Behind the massive oak, in a private corner of the garden, Dracula--prince of darkness, lord of the undead--squatted on a stool, cradling an empty china cup in bony hands. "Not another tea party," he groaned, spinning the cup with a flick of his wrist, letting it wobble across the table top.
Above his head, fending off direct sunlight, was a little white cloud. It rumbled a warning, dropping a small fork of lightning into the marigolds.
Sitting next to Drac was Mutt, a patch-work dog. He jogged excitedly in place, ears flapping wildly. "Don't ler HER hear you say that; the Mistress is not to be trifled with. No, no, no, no, no."
"Molly's not even here," Drac said.
"I can smell her coming around the tree," Mutt warned.
Next to the patch-work dog, Suzie Love-Me-Lots rolled her bright blue eyes. "I think it's going to rain," she observed cheerfully. "Give me a hug! I need lots-a lovin'."
"Rain?" Molly echoed, stepping around the base of the oak. She approached the table with a plastic tea service. "I hope not. I slaved in the kitchen all day to make this stuff, and I intend to have fun." In addition to her cotton sun-dress, Molly wore a straw hat, sunglasses, a blue string of wooden beads, and her mother's best pair of opera gloves.
She took her place at the head of the table; though it really had no head at all, being perfectly round beneath a yellow checkered table-cloth.
In the last chair, the cat yawned, unimpressed by pomp and circumstances. She lowered her whiskered head to sniff hopefully at the small plate set before her. Sadly, it was empty.
Molly set the tray down, and picked up the tea pot. It was half-full of water, flavored with a fistful of crumbled leaves. Molly filled the cups before her, and reached into a pocket for small white stones. "How many sugers do you want?"
"I don't need any." Suzie Love-Me-Lots giggled. I'm sweet enough already."
Mutt whined hopefully. His paw thumped the table four times.
Molly gave the patch-work dog a sympathetic pout, furrowing her brow. "Sorry, puppy. You're on a diet. You can just have one."
The cat, in turn, blinked twice. Molly dropped two stones in the cat's cup, stirring them in with a twig. Then she turned to Dracula, bridging her eyebrows in inquiry, making bat-wings out of them. "Well?" She asked.
"I'll take a Bloody Mary or Margaret, Jill or Jane; any of your friends will do," Drac answered.
"Here's your tea." Molly set it down.
"That's all we got. You can just pretend that you like it."
Dracula hissed his displeasure. The cloud over him darkened, grumbling, dropping a second lightning fork into the flower beds, followed by a knife and spoon. Dracula subsided under the implied threat; were the cloud to open, letting direct sunlight through, he'd be toast--burnt toast. "I hate being a pigment of imagination," he muttered, as a cup without stones appeared before him.
"Mol-----ly-----" The VOICE came from a distance, locking their little corner into a moment out of time. Everyone froze in place except for the cat who only flicked an ear in casual interest.
"Oh, drat!" Molly cursed. "It's Mother."
Mutt whined in fearful sympathy.
"Don't go," Suzie Love-Me-Lots whispered. I don't want to die."
The cloud grew pale, trembling.
Drac smiled toothily. "She's only just started calling you. Surely, we've time for another round of this wonderful beverage..."
"Nah," Molly said. "I better go see what she wants. I'll be back."
"No!" Dracula's hypnotic eyes blazed like red-hot coals. "I command you to stay; the dream dies in the absence of a dreamer."
The cat flicked her tail-tip in agreement, wise in the ways of dreams. She then began to lick her belly-fur into place as Molly left her chair.
"I've gotta go!" Molly insisted.
Drac beared his fangs and kicked back his chair, leaping to his feet. His claw-like hand extended. He reached for Molly but went through her without touching her. It was as if neither one of them had any substance to speak of. Dazed and confused, Drac let his hand fall back as Molly hurried away.
A small bird began to trill somewhere.
The cat grew focused. She began to chatter, clashing her fangs together, practicing her death-strike. With great pleasure, she imagined a small bird in her teeth, its vertebra grinding, separating as she made her kill.
"Something's wrong," Drac spoke at last. "We're all still here, alive--more or less--even though Molly's gone. I don't understand. Could there be another imagination at work?"
Mutt yapped joyously.
Cloud spilled more silverware from his silver lining.
Suzie Love-Me-Lots clapped porcelain hands together. "It's a miracle!" She cried.
Too bored to remain any longer, the cat stretched, rippling her back. She jumped down from her chair, and vanished into the flower beds in search of distraction.
"Wait, Dracula pleaded, a dread suspicion flooding his mind. "Here, kitty, kitty, kit--"
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