Sonic the Hedgehog
Nack in Wonderland
By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: Ahhh, as always, Nackie is Sega's (but since they aren't doing much with him, I WANT HIM!!! LOL)! Nic is Sega's too (or is she Archie Comics, along with Hershey the cat?)! Sonic, Knuckles, Robotnik, Antoine, and Bunnie are Sega's too!! Sam Spade is copyright ???? Dr Hackenbush is copyright ??? Then all Alice in Wonderland characters are copyright either Disney or Lewis Carroll (or both). The "voice from the door" and the "sanity arrest" were borrowed from Rainbow's story "Monkees in Wonderland"! The La-Z-Boy on skis is from a sketch on the Tonight Show!! Everything else is mine!! LOL, well, almost. . . . In case this fanfic gets a lil too goofy, my apologies to Lewis Carroll, but my congratulations for writing such fun books! ^_^ Hehe. . . . Also, the bit about the Floating Island being over Australia is something of my own creation; the reason for it is: Have you ever noticed that most (if not all) the animals on the FI are indigenous to Australia???!

Nack the Weasel sighed. He had been very bored for the past few days, without any varmints to go chasing after.

He idly picked up a book on the hotel nightstand and looked at the cover. "'Alice in Wonderland,'" he mused aloud, then laughed. "Of all the hotels in the world, I'm staying in one that puts copies of Alice in Wonderland on the nightstands!"

He looked out the window. "Storm's comin' up," he declared, seeing the dark purple and black storm clouds.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "What the . . ." Nack turned to look. A piece of paper had been shoved under the door. Nack picked it up and read:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
And all the kings' horses and all the kings' men
Couldn't put Humpty together again!

Below that was:

Watch out, weasel! I know you're looking for me!
But you won't catch me! Hahaha!

Nack grumbled to himself. He hated death threats. The note was unsigned, but he knew who it was from—a bad boy known as Jack Be Nimble. He often sent messages in nursery rhymes to anyone who looked for him.

He opened the door, looking in vain for Jack Be Nimble, or whoever had left the note, but no one was in sight. Nack shut the door and sighed.

The TV happened to be on. Nack gasped as he found himself staring at a badly animated version of . . . himself!

"What in the name of heaven . . ." He went over and stared at the screen. "I don't think I like that. Somebody put me on the television without my permission!"

Abruptly the telephone rang. "Hello?" Nack said rather gruffly, upset about the death threat and the crude version of himself on TV.

"Nack, it's me." Nack recognized his sister's voice.

"Yeah, Nic, what is it?"

There was a pause, then Nic burst out, "You accepted that job for Barnaby Bradson!"

"Maybe I did. So?" Nack asked, clearly confused.

"Dang it, Nack, he was gonna hire ME!"

Nack was silent, then came back with, "Oh, and so you think I purposely stole the job from you, is that it?"

"You said it, I didn't!" Nic returned.

"Look here, Nic—Bradson didn't say anything about hirin' you. . . ." Nack tried to explain. "I didn't know anything about it!"

"You're lyin'!" Nic yelled. "You knew and you decided you wanted the job instead!"

Nack bristled. "You know, Nic, sometimes you can act so childish. . . ."

"Me? Childish? You're the one who always steals jobs from me!" Nic snapped. "Sometimes I wish . . . I wish . . ."

"You wish what, Nic?" Nack asked, and then immediately wished he hadn't.

"I wish you'd just go away!!" Nic yelled, slamming the phone down.

Nack stared at the receiver, then started muttering to himself angrily. What the heck had he ever done to make Nic act like she did with him? He couldn't figure it out. Most of the time she treated him like he was worth less than snail slime. "Sometimes *I* wish I'd just go away too," he grumbled.

The window suddenly broke apart, sending a roaring wind into Nack's hotel room. The Texas weasel turned to look. "What the . . ."

Lamps fell over. Papers flew across the room. The mirror hanging on the wall abruptly decided to detach itself and whacked the hapless weasel over the head. "Ow!" he yelped loudly and collapsed to the floor in a heap.
~~~~Wild transition~~~~

When Nack finally aroused, he was sprawled across a giant mushroom.

"Oh great, I'm on the Floating Island somewhere over Australia," he muttered, supposing that he was at Mushroom Hill. He half-expected Knuckles to pop out at him any minute and yell.

And suddenly Knuckles *did* pop out . . . or at least, it *looked* like Knuckles. . . . Nack gasped. The red echidna had a necklace of what looked like peace beads, and another one with the peace sign on it. He was holding a guitar, which he was strumming, and his dreadlocks looked even longer than usual.

"Hey, man, peace!" Knuckles held up his right hand, which, Nack noticed, was missing the ever-present glove, in the peace sign.

"Uhhh . . . do I know you?" Nack asked, climbing off the mushroom. "Ain't you the guardian here?"

Knuckles paused. "Am I? Groovy, man."

"What's your name?" he pressed. He almost felt like added, "Or do you not know it," but restrained himself.

"Name? What's in a name?" Knuckles waved his hands around. "A rose by any other name is still a rose."

This guy's cracked, Nack thought to himself. He removed his hat and scratched his head. Aloud he said, "I'm confused."

"We're all confused," Knuckles replied. "We're all searching for meaning in our lives." He opened a bag of sunflower seeds and began munching on them. He offered them to Nack.

"No . . . thanks," Nack said, idly thinking that perhaps it was something in the seeds that was making Knuckles act so weird. "Where are we?"

"Physically or metaphysically?"

"Excuse me?" Nack gave him an odd look.

"Physically," Knuckles went on, as if he hadn't heard, "we're in the Looking-Glass World."

"The WHAT??!" Nack burst out.

"And metaphysically, I am floating on a cloud, high above the Earth, playing my guitar, and there is harmony throughout all the world," Knuckles continued, again not seeming to hear. "Where are you metaphysically?"

"I still don't know where I am physically!" Nack responded, frustrated.

"I must go," Knuckles said suddenly. "I do hope you will find the answer you seek." And the echidna vanished into thin air. Nack gaped at the empty space where he'd been standing, then looked around, suddenly realizing the scenery had changed.

Psychedelic '60s colors swirled around him as he fell . . . Down, down . . . Faster and faster . . .

And then he crash-landed into a giant cupcake.

There was dead silence for several long minutes. Then a gloved hand broke through the surface and Nack pulled himself up, choking on a very large sprinkle decoration. When he finally got his respiratory problem under control, his attention switched to removing the frosting from his hat.

That was when he discovered the annoyed-looking creatures staring at him.

"And what're y'all lookin' at?" he snapped. "Ain't you ever seen a weasel fall in a giant cupcake before?"

"'Weasel'?" one of the nondescript creatures repeated. "What is a 'weasel'?"

Nack's mouth dropped open. "What the . . ."

"We do not know what a weasel is," said a second, which suddenly looked strikingly like Sonic the Hedgehog. "We do know that you are the first to make a completely vertical fall into the Cupcake of Gooiness."

Nack climbed out. It didn't seem that gooey to him. "What the HECK are you talkin' about?" he demanded.

"The Cupcake Games," the first one said.

Nack closed one eye, scrutinizing him to see if he was serious. He was.


A loud squishing sound was heard, cupcake flew everywhere, and Nack whirled around, just in time to see the strange character who'd uttered the exclamation rise up out of the Cupcake. It had horns for ears, and for its mouth. Its eyes were wide as cymbals . . . No, they *were* cymbals!!

"What kind of insanity is this?!" Nack yelled.

"Insanity?" The one who looked like Sonic spoke up, glaring at Nack as if he'd just said the world was flat. "This is a most precious occasion. It takes much skill to perfect a fall into the Cupcake of Gooiness."

Nack's mouth dropped open.

"He doesn't appreciate the Cupcake Games!" a third yelled indignantly, waving a pitchfork. "After him!!"

"You'll never take me alive!" Nack replied, dashing off into a nearby forest, with a whole group of critters chasing after him.

He used his tail as a spring, leaping up into a tall pine tree. Unfortunately for him, the pine tree wasn't accustomed to weasels flying up on it and it threw him off.

"Yeow!!" Nack went soaring through the air, heading for . . . where??
Nack was sure he was going to impact somewhere hard, but instead he found himself crashlanding on an odd couch, which seemed to be upsidedown, only the cushions were on the underside, which had become the topside. The couch started pressing forward, slowly at first, then increasingly faster. Nack found himself holding on for dear life.

"Here now! What's this??"

Nack looked up and found himself staring at a small, nervous-looking white rabbit. "Oh brother," Nack said to himself.

"Preston doesn't like to be startled," the rabbit chastised.

"Preston?" Nack repeated.

"The couch," the rabbit said in an overly-exaggerated voice, as if he were talking to an ignorant child.

Nack leaped down, realizing for the first time that he was in someone's house. "What the heck's goin' on here?" he demanded.

"I'm late! Oh, I'm late!" the rabbit cried, looking at the watch "Preston" had suddenly pulled out from under its cushions. He jumped on the couch. "Forward march!" He seemed to have entirely forgotten Nack existed . . . not that Nack minded.

Nack watched in astonishment as the rabbit rode off on the couch, through the door, and down the street.

"This is too far-out," Nack muttered. "I musta really hurt myself with that mirror!"

He took a few steps forward and suddenly plunged downward . . . down, down, until he landed in an official-looking office behind a desk. A floppy fedora hat plopped on his head and he suddenly found himself wearing a classic private eye trenchcoat.

"What in the . . ."

The door burst open and a nervous playing card ran in. "Mr. Spade!" it yelled frantically. "Mr. Spade, I'm in dire need of help!"

"My name isn't Spade!" Nack protested.

"It says so right on the door!" the playing card insisted.

"Oh yeah? Well, we'll just see about that." Nack leaped out of the chair and over to the door. "Sam Spade, Private Eye" was painted across the plate glass window. "Now, waiiit a minute . . ."

"Oh no! We can't wait any more minutes!" The playing card looked ready to panic. "You must find out what happened to the Queen's rosebushes! They were supposed to be delivered today!"

"I can't worry about rosebushes!" Nack yelled. "I'm not Sam Spade!"

"Mr. Spade, we can't be fooling around!" the playing card moaned. "If the Queen finds out the rosebushes aren't here, she'll have me executed!"

Nack was getting frustrated. "I'm not Sam Spade, I'm tellin' you! Humphrey Bogart was Sam Spade!!"

The playing card grabbed Nack by the trenchcoat and shook him. "Help me!!"

Nack gasped, the room starting to spin. "I'll help you!" he choked out. "I'll help you, but I'm . . . not . . . Sam Spade!" The playing card seemed unable to hear. "Hey . . . you're cuttin' off the circulation!" Black dots twirled around in Nack's line of vision.

Just when he was sure he was going to pass out, he was suddenly smacked in the face with . . .

"A mushroom?" he said in disbelief, returning to complete alertness.

"Mary Ann!"

Nack whirled at the sound of the indignant voice. "Huh??!" He was back in the white rabbit's house.

"Mary Ann!" The rabbit was holding a whole basket of mushrooms. "Where are my gloves, Mary Ann??!"

"What in the . . . DO I LOOK LIKE A GIRL??!" Nack yelled.

"Don't bother me with questions, Mary Ann!" the rabbit snapped. "Just get my gloves!"

Nack scratched his head, noticing that his Stetson was back and the trenchcoat and fedora were absent. "What happened to the playing card?"

"Mary Ann, you've been watching too much television again!" the rabbit scolded. "Oh, here my gloves are—right here on top of it!" He went out the door, still scolding Nack.

Nack wandered idly over to the TV.

"What're you lookin' at?" it snapped.

Nack stepped back. "What the . . ."

"All day, every day, everyone stares at me!" the TV complained. "How would you like it if everyone stared at you?"

"I almost feel like everyone is," Nack muttered. He wandered upstairs, trying to figure out how in the world he was going to get home.

Over the hall closet was an odd sign that read "Do not open door at risk of setting off alarm." Nack glared, then swung the door wide open anyway. A loud scream of "AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGH!!!!!!!!!!!" met his ears and the weasel gasped, slamming the door shut again.

Suddenly a shrill voice started singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat" all off-key. Nack, appalled at the crazy song (and at the voice), went down the stairs and traced it to a washroom, where Antoine D'Colette, or at least what *looked* like him, was dumping a box of hats into the washing machine.

"What in the heck are you doing?" Nack demanded.

"Doing ze laundry, what does it look like?" Antoine snapped.

"It looks like you're makin' a mess!" Nack declared, as Antoine emptied an entire box of Tide detergent into the washer.

"I have to get ze hats clean!" Antoine replied.

"Half of one of them scoop things that come with the detergent would suffice!" Nack exclaimed.

If all this was astounding, it could never prepare him for what came next. Antoine reached down and picked up a huge bottle of something. He started adding that to the mix.

Nack gasped, recognizing the smell. "Wait a cotton-pickin' minute!! You can't put gasoline in that there washing machine!!"

"Of course I can!" Antoine snapped. "I can do whatever I please, Monsier!"

"Not as long as I'm in this house with you, you can't!" Nack yelped. "You're gonna get us both killed!"

Antoine turned the dial on the washing machine. Nack leaped to restrain him but he wasn't quick enough. Amazingly, the washer didn't seem affected by the new substance and began its normal rounds.

"See? It is perfectly safe," Antoine said stubbornly.

Nack stared at the washer suspiciously, then followed Antoine out of the washroom.

He hadn't got more than ten feet when a loud BOOOM!!! ricocheted all through the rabbit's house and then both he and Antoine were thrown forcefully out through the nearest window, shattering what, on contact, appeared to be glass, but which Nack realized later had really been hardened plastic wrap (!!!).

They tumbled down a hill before coming to a halt near a huge mushroom. Nack gasped, trying to catch his breath. "For cryin' out loud," he choked out, "I told you it wouldn't work!"

"Ahh, where is my memory these days?" Antoine mused. "Last week it was ze antifreeze."

Nack groaned, slapping his forehead.
Leaving Antoine to puzzle over the gasoline in the washer, Nack headed off again, wondering how in the heck he was ever going to get back home.

Suddenly an arrow whooshed over his head. Nack ducked just in time. "What the heck are you tryin' to do, you varmint??!" he demanded, yelling in the general direction the arrow had come from.

"Make you fall in love," came the reply, and a large man leaped out of a tree.

"Dr. Robotnik??!" Nack exclaimed.

"Who? Look, buster, I'm Cupid!" Robotnik replied. "And I have a lot of arrows to let fly today!"

Nack rubbed his eyes. "Oh, for the love of Pete," he muttered. "You expect me to believe nonsense like that??! You were tryin' to kill me with that thing, weren't you??"

"Kill you? Good heavens, no!"

Nack, keeping his dignity intact, tipped his hat back on his head and stalked away, just as the insane Robotnik/Cupid shot more arrows at him. Breaking into a run, then a leap, Nack soared up and into a large spruce, which, in turn, socked him across the face. "Hey!" he yelled indignantly, plunging down into the frigid cold waters below.

As he slowly sank to the bottom, weak from the impact, he suddenly noticed Bunnie Rabbot . . . Only she was . . . A mermaid, he realized.

"Hello, sugah," she greeted him. "An' are you goin' to the Queen's picnic too?"

"No," Nack gasped, "I think I'm going to Davy Jones' locker!"

At that moment, what looked like a school locker at the bottom of the ocean opened up and a grizzled old man looked out. "You? Young whippersnapper? Yer comin' to my locker?"

"Not as long as I'm *alive*!" Nack shot back, suddenly receiving a burst of strength. He fought to get back to the surface, which, of course, wasn't terribly easy, considering that Nack can't swim.

Noticing the root of a long seaweed, Nack grabbed it and slowly inched his way up. Bunnie swam around him, encouraging him, until he, at last, had made it to the top, where he collapsed, coughing, on the shore.

When he looked up, however, he discovered he wasn't where he had been before he fell in. Instead, he was laying on the floor in a large mansion, and, apparently, had just come up out of an indoor swimming pool.

"Master Spade! Are you alright??!" A concerned-looking butler suddenly appeared in the doorway. "I only left for a few minutes to make certain the porcelin stew wasn't boiling over!"

"I'm . . . not . . . Sam Spade!" Nack choked out, still trying to catch his breath, not bothering to figure out what 'porcelin stew' was.

"Master Spade, should I get Doctor Hackenbush?"

"NO!" Nack exclaimed, panicked. In such a backwards place as this, he hated to think what their doctor would be like.

"Are you sure, Master Spade?"

"I'm more than sure," Nack growled. "But I'm NOT SAM SPADE!!!" He looked around wildly for an escape, and leaped out the window, crashing unceremoniously to the ground below. Picking himself up, he sprinted out of the yard. "Durn it!!! I'm sick of this place!! I want to be back in America!!!"

As he ran, he became aware that he was being chased by several unknowns. He ducked into the bushes, hoping to loose them in the thick foliage.

Suddenly a flashlight was shined right into his deep blue eyes. "What the . . ."

"Fang the Sniper?" Sonic stepped into view, dressed as a cop.

Nack's eyebrows narrowed at the much-disliked nickname. "Nack," he corrected.

"Fang the Sniper," Sonic repeated, ignoring him, "you are under arrest!"

"What in the heck for??" Nack demanded.

Antoine also moved into the light. He too was clad in a policeman's uniform and cap. "For ze unpardonable crime of being sane in an insane world!"

"Are you outta whatever bit of a skull you have??" Nack yelled indignantly. "That's madness!!"

"Of course it is," Sonic said in contempt. "The rule around here is insanity."

Nack looked from one to the other. They were deadly serious, if such a concept was known here. "You'll never take me alive!" he yelled, suddenly dashing off into the bushes, which were covered with snow.

With the two "police" closing in, Nack sprang into the air, realizing too late that he was heading for . . . a La-Z-Boy on skis. "Yeow!!" Crashing down on it, the chair immediately started moving down the mountain. Sonic and Antoine stopped, gaping in shock.

"I'm gonna hate myself for this in the morning!" Nack yelped, sailing down through several feet of snow. One large chunk shot up at him, smacking him in the face. "On second thought, I'm hating myself for it now!!"

The ground was looming closer. Unfortunately, the rock was even closer. The La-Z-Boy rammed right into it, and Nack went flying. He was propelled ahead he didn't know how many feet and crashed down at the bottom far below.

"Owww," he moaned. "This is it . . . I'm coming, Mama!"

Suddenly the head of a cat appeared, then the body. "Hello, Nack."

"Hershey?" Nack gasped.

The black cat shook his head. "No, I'm the Cheshire Cat." Nack blinked, suddenly realized he'd been hallucinating. The cat was actually a sandy-colored tabby. A male sandy-colored tabby. "I can tell you how to get home," he added.

Nack was fading, but he managed to choke out, "How?"

The Cheshire Cat's body disappeared again, leaving his head suspended in midair. "Just . . . wake up," he whispered. "Wake up!"
~~~~Wild Transition~~~~

"Wake up!! Oh, wake up, will you!!"

Nack was startled back to consciousness by something cool and damp on his forehead . . . and by Nic's sharp voice.

He finally managed to wrench his eyes open. Nic was applying a wet cloth to Nack's forehead, and she didn't look all kinds of happy. Probably still stewin' about that durn job, Nack thought. "What're you doin' here?" he asked weakly.

Nic crossed her arms. "Well, actually, I thought of some more things to say to you, but the phones went out because of that tornado that whipped through a couple of hours ago. I came down here to yell at you in person, and the desk clerk let me into your room. You were layin' on the floor with that stupid mirror on top of you." She didn't mention how she had burst into his room, screaming and yelling, then turned pale upon seeing him in the hallway crumpled underneath the heavy gold-rimmed mirror. "I got you over to the couch here, but you didn't wake up for a long time. You kept moanin' and yelpin' and screamin' weird stuff like 'I'm not Sam Spade!'"

Nack blushed. "I was just dreamin'?" he said, almost to himself. He turned back to Nic with a lop-sided, rueful grin. "I guess you're gonna say those things to me now, ain't you?"

Nic stared at Nack for a long time. "No," she said finally. "I'm not." She didn't elaborate.

Nack reached for the phone. "Look, I'm going call Barnaby Bradson and tell him that if he wants to hire me, he has to hire you, too."

Nic looked shocked, blinking several times. Then she smiled slowly.

"Believe what you want, Nic, but I didn't steal that durn job from you," Nack went on.

Suddenly Nic gasped.

"What? What?" Nack turned to look at her.

"I thought I saw a kitty-cat," Nic said, practically in a whisper. "But he vanished."

Nack's mouth dropped open. "Sandy-colored tabby?" he asked.

Nic nodded slowly. "How the heck did you know??"

Nack groaned and didn't reply. "I was dreamin', wasn't I?" he muttered. "Or was I?"