The Mad Hatter (temporary title)

Dong...dong…dong…dong…dong…dong… The clock struck six once again. It had every minute for about as long as the Mad Hatter could remember. “Tea time!” the Hatter proclaimed gleefully, though he wasn’t quite sure why. For, as far as he could remember, he had been tired of tea time, tired of it since the concept had ever entered his mind.
“Tis, tis,” responded the March Hare, showing none the same conviction. “Do you suppose that one of these days we shall clean these dishes accumulating upon our table? They are becoming ever so cumbersome, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I dare say we could. But that would require effort on my part now wouldn’t it, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we? Besides, if we cleaned up now, we wouldn’t have anything to clean to clean up later and that would be quite the issue come cleaning day.” “But we don’t have a cleaning day!”
“I never said that we did! Honestly Hairy, you grow madder by the month.” “Is that not calling the kettle black, Brian? I do believe they call you the-“
But the Hatter’s speech was cut off by the snore of a dormouse who had fallen asleep upon the table and now had cupcake icing smeared across his sleeping face.
“Darn dormouse! Has he enough sense to keep his snore volume to a minimum so that those around him may at least enjoy the pleasantries of conversation?” And with that the Hatter smacked the rodent upside the back of his head. The dormouse coughed and regained composure enough to pick himself up and deposit his body against a nearby tree, where which he began to snooze once again.
Dong…dong…dong…dong…dong…dong… The dormouse took no notice to the tolling clock, he was already well asleep.