Twinkle twinkle little bat

A new, twisted, darker version of the tea party scene from Alice in wonderland. For an assignment in my writing class and also part of a story i am writing

The moon hovered in a deep black sky.  Its smile grew into a ghoulish grin. 
There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having wine at it; a Dormouse was lying between them in a pool of blood, almost half dead and singing to himself, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head. 
Alice struggles as she is tied in binds to an electrical chair just at the end of the table.
Why don’t you have some tea?” the March Here asks in an amusing tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing but wine, smothered cake, and broken dishes on it.  “You know for a tea party you do a poor job of presenting tea!” She remarked.
“That’s because there isn’t any,” said the March Hare, laughing hysterically.
“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it. Didn’t they teach you manners when they locked you away?” asked Alice, raising an eyebrow at him.
 “I have learned that it isn’t very civil to come to tea party without being invited,” said the March Hare, pointing a fork at Alice. “Naughty, naughty.”
 “I didn’t know you were having a tea party,” said Alice: “I was only passing by before you snatched me.  I’m on a mission.”
 “Oh yes, yes! To hunt down the rabbit. We’ve all heard.” Said the March Hare, who laughed so hard in his menacing mirth, he fell to the ground.
The Hatter opened his eyes very wide in a hazard enlightenment, as if he had more to add; but all he said was, “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”
“There is no time for riddles!” thought Alice.  “You have already asked me this one many times- your riddles are pointless,” she added, aloud.
 “Do you mean to say that you cannot find out the answer to it?” Said the March Hare.
 “Exactly so,” said Alice.
 “You should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on. “There is always an answer! You just never look hard enough.  You always give up because nothing is simplified for you.”
 “I do not,” Alice hastily replied; “I mean- I do- say what I mean.”
“Oh, woopsies! I am so sorry to announce the Dormouse is dead,” Said the Hatter, and he poured a little shot of wine upon its nose.
“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.
 “No, I had given up a long, long time ago,” Alice replied. 
 “Me too!” said the Hatter, who pushed the button that sent a thousand volts through Alice’s body.

Author's Note

This is not only for a story i am writing but also for an assignment in my writing class where you take a piece and flip the idea (for example, i found a poem about black- i write a poem about white).