"Who is it, Alice," the parrot riddles, "that contains only the half of the whole?"
"Why the answer is me, of course, Whippoorwill," answers Alice, quite confidently, "because there's only a half of my whole remaining above this worm hole, and I'm very much looking forward to sinking all the way down!" At which Alice starts to giggle and wriggle about in order to drown herself in the worm bath.
"Right answer, Alice!" squawks back Whippoorwill. "But for all the wrong reasons. Think again and quickly, Alice. Before you sink down too deeply."
"But the worms have such a warmthiness about them, dearest Whippoorwill," says Alice, ever-so-happily. "I've never felt so much at home..."
"Alice, listen to me clearly," says Whippoorwill in a surprisingly human voice. "These are not worms that you're drowning in, these are wurms; worms with a U in the name: the name that stands for Wisdom-Undoing-Randomized-Mechanism, as you well have learnt. The wurms just want you to go crazy, and to remain in the future for ever."
"What in the earth are you talking about, Whippoorwill?" asks Alice, up to her shoulders in the soil. "And what is so very wrong with going crazy?"
"Alice, you will never get home at this rate," squawks the parrot: "You will be forever lost in time."
"But I am home," replies Alice, sternly, trying to stamp her foot. "And if being home is the same as being lost, well then, I shall want to be gratefully lost for ever!"
I'm trying my squawking best to lead you back to the past," replies Whippoorwill. "Only by following me will you get home in time for your writing lesson."
"Lessons! Pooh to lessons! Oh dear, I said a naughty! Well I don't care. I want to be naughty! I like it here, really. Let me sink, my feathery friend..." And Alice does sink then, deeper and deeper.
"Very well," beaks the parrot, "I shall now leave you to the wurms. Let the crazies swallow you. You obviously want to be a pretty fool." And with that utterance the parrot flies off into the far distance and Alice is suddenly alone again; suddenly alone with only the wurms of warmth to nuzzle at her cheek-bones. Mister Dodgson and her sisters, Lorina and Edith; they have all vanished quite away. And Alice does feel like she is being swallowed, all of a sudden. At this moment Alice notices something else again nudging into the corner of her vision. She has a real job turning her head around in the wurms, but somehow she does. And this is what she sees: a large grandfather clock has appeared on the grass, a few yards away from Alice's sinking visage. The clock's hands are applauding the imminent arrival of two o'clock. And then the clock's mouth dings a double dong; it's two o'clock in Wurmland and out of the clock's body come bouncing three large and very bulbous black dots!
"Oh dear!" Alice murmurs to herself. "Here I am being eaten alive by the crazy wurms, without a hope of escape; and the time is two o'clock! I'm late for my lesson! And if I'm not mistaken, that trio of large, black and angry-looking bubbles racing towards me is an ellipsis! Oh, what a horrible creature an ellipsis is! Maybe I should escape from this wurmy world. But however can I manage it?" The wurms were now nudging against Alice's nostrils! "I must try to think of a plan!" she mumbled. "Now let me see... the wurm came into my body through my mouth; how can I now get rid of that wrigglesome wanderer? Only by the never passage, I fear."
(The never passage is of course the nether passage: the passage that can never be written about. But if my dearest Alice can only escape the world of the wurms by this terrible evacuation, then so be it, for I must give my writing to the young girl's future.)
By this time (thanks to my hesitation in the story's telling) the three dots of the ellipsis monster are gathering around Alice's head in a squelchy triangle of bubbles.
"My name is Dot," the first bubble says.
"My name also is Dot," the second bubble says.
"My name is also and also Dot," the third bubble says. The trio of bubbles move in on Alice, ever closer, ever closer...
Alice feels herself being engulfed by the wurms and the Dots, and very terrified she is by the stifling presence of these two engulfers; so very terrified that she actually excretes the wurm.
(May I by the way explain that the rather naughty word excrete comes from the Latin for separate and discharge, and if a word comes from the Latin, it surely cannot be that naughty? Suffice it to say politely that Alice did separate and discharge the wurm from her body, through the never passage...)
And through this passage Alice arrived back in her tiny cell below the police station. Long Distance Davis was curled up, snail-like, in his shell of a hat on the dirt floor, still travelling in the wurm's dream. Alice shook her head from side to side twenty-seven and a half times, in order to dispel the remnants of the wurminess, and then she announced sternly to herself, "Whippoorwill was right: I have been a pretty fool up to now. I have allowed myself to be carried along by strangers through this future world. From now on, I shall carry myself! I shall find my own way back to Great Aunt Ermintrude's house."
Alice noticed the jigsaw pieces scattered on the floor. She picked them up carefully, added the snail piece from her pocket, and rearranged all six of them around the stolen feather from Whippoorwill. It was then that she found the real answer to Whippoorwill's last riddle: Who is it that contains only the half of the whole? Alice realized that the parrot had said hole, and not whole. Who is it that contains only the half of the hole? That was the question. Alice now knew that the hole that Whippoorwill had riddled about was the hole in her jigsaw of London Zoo, or rather, the twelve holes that the missing pieces were waiting to fill.
"Why, this whole future I'm trapped within," Alice cried out loud, "is nothing more than a jigsaw of the past. If I can gather together all of the lost pieces, perhaps I will find my way back through the hole in time!" She then counted the pieces she had already collected: the termite piece, the badger piece, the snake, the chicken, the zebra and the snail piece. "That makes six pieces," she added to herself. "I have six more to find, because twelve pieces were missing from my long-ago jigsaw. I did give the right answer to Whippoorwill's riddle, but for all the wrong reasons. I am the girl that contains only the half of the hole."
Alice tried her best to remember the six pieces she was still missing: "There was a spider from the spider house, and a cat from the cat house, but they are both in the possession of the police! And what about the other four pieces? There was a fish missing from the aquarium, I'm sure, and also a crow from the aviary, and a parrot, I believe. Why, that piece must represent Whippoorwill! I must surely catch him so that I can arrive back in time for my writing lesson. And I still don't know the correct usage for an ellipsis, even though a three-dotted monster wanted to eat me in Wurmland! But there was one other jigsaw piece missing as well. Now then, what was it? Oh bother, I simply cannot recall it, no matter how hard I try! And anyway, however shall I find those jigsawed creatures while I am languishing in gaol? And what about Celia? I must also find my Automated Alice. And I expect I must also try to find out who the real Jigsaw Murderer is, in order to prove my innocence! Oh dear! I've got so many things to find. I shall never get home!"