As she reviewed the script for “The Pilot: Part One”…she knew it was wrong and that “The Pilot:

Part Two” would do much better by her own hand. Upon thinking this, Alice dropped the ‘script’,

which looked much like an old book, onto the ground.

“These writers these days…” She said to herself. “I would rather play the role in nothing more
than a “Tabula Rasa” than do something like that. Potions and red queens…I need none of them.
Might I take my daily “walkabout” and think things through properly, for I do not wish to act in
haste.”

But to not allow the story to play out could result in tragic consequences, but Alice was none the
wiser. So when the “White Rabbit” approached, she turned a cold shoulder as he looked queerly at
her, as if to say she has no choice, resistance, but not choice. As she walked, she was singing a
song to herself, as if no care in the world for the hare…

“-Oh tell my baby sister

not to do what I have done

But shun that house in New Orleans

they call the…”

“DYLAN DID IT BEST!!!” she heard from behind.

She wanted to ignore, but she knew she would just grow curiouser and curiouser if she didn’t
respond…

“What?” She asked annoyed.

“The House of the Rising Sun. Its what you were singing…Bob Dylan did it best.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, shouted Alice. “I would nevAr sing that. I was singing
“Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat”, as my sister and I so sometimes sing. Now bugger off you, I am
TRYING to enjoy my day.

“You have to come. You cannot ignore it. It calls for you, and always will my dear”, said the rabbit
almost sadly.

“I don’t have to do anything”, said Alice.

Just then something floated through the view of Alice as the little squiggly lines do when you have
your eyes closed and look into light. Alice focused her eyes, and pulled back a little. She looked at
the object, then at the rabbit.

“What will happen if I don’t go, if I don’t follow? Will the the sky fade away, will the world end, will this tiny creature disappear?” She looked smug now, it was not becoming of Alice.

“No”, replied the rabbit. “The sky will not fade away…but it may not be blue. The world will not
end, but it may not be the same. And “the moth” will not disappear, but it will nevar become a
beautiful butterfly.”

“Have “confidence man”!” said Alice, a little intrigued by the rabbits seeming necessity of her
company.

“MAN!” Shouted the rabbit. “For I am no “MAN, in all truth…I am not even here”, he said as he
looked up at the sky that didn’t fade away…and remained blue.

Alice’s eyes followed his into the heavens, and after realizing her hypnosis, she quickly looked
down to find herself again in “solitary”…and ever so confused.

Alice decided to continue her journey alone as planned. She walked past a house that she had
seen many times, but never the occupant of the home. There were flowers that lay dead, being
seemingly resurrected by whom Alice assumed the owner. He was touching the flowers one by
one, and as he did, the flowers sprang to life in an unimaginable speed. With the simple contact of
his finger, a beautiful rose would rise, then, just as quickly as the first rose was risen by his touch,
the next rose was “raised by another”. The man was short and tall, skinny and wide. He had a
color on that Alice couldn’t quite place.

“My sir, what color is that wonderful hat you have on?” She asked standing a substantial distance
away.

“Whatever color you want it to be my dear.” The man in the hat answered, now right in front of her.

“Do you have trouble with your father sir?” asked Alice with the most troubled look on her face.

“Nevar have, why do you ask?”

“Because I have read that all the best cowboys have daddy issues, and since you’re wearing a …”

“Its not a cowboy hat”, interrupted the hat wearer.

“Then what kind is it?” asked Alice.

“Whatever kind I wish it to be, so “whatever the case may be” it doesn’t matter, because I’m not
even wearing a hat”

Alice looked up to see a patch of hair..she was just about to ask about the color…

“You ask a lot of questions, now allow me to ask one of you. What do you call a Mad Hatter…with
no hat?”

“”MAD?”, Alice asked and answered at the same time.

“Indeed”, answered MAD. “Mad indeed.”

“But why are you mad sir?” Alice asked.

“I’m mad!?!?” exclaimed and asked MAD. “You’re the one talking to yourself.” And he was gone
when Alice took the longest blink of her life.

Alice continued on until she was grabbed by a crown wearing woman in a cape covered in what
appeared to resemble a sort of playing card.

“Who are you?” Alice exclaimed.

“I’m the “Queen of Hearts and Minds”. You have missed your “special” party, and HE is not happy.

“Hearts…AND MINDS? What party? And who in the world is HE?” asked Alice, who realized that she
did indeed ask a lot of questions once she thought about it.

“You made me the queen of minds too, because you wouldn’t give your heart, he had to get to
you through your mind.He isn’t happy, and he has to be happy. But more importantly… the party…
your party. ‘What party’?!?” she asked and exclaimed…then answered, ”Why your “homecoming” party my dear…wait…don’t you know?”

“Know? Know what” Alice asked, becoming curiouser and curiouser.

“You became attached to the “outlaws” the moment you dropped ‘the script’, and insulted the
creator.”

Alice knew she was in trouble. Was there no way for her to not do what we all know she is
supposed to do? Can she not ever have her own choice? Do we make the choice for her every
time we open the book ourselves?

Alice said the first thing she could think, “Quinque”, she said out loud.

“What did you say?” asked the queen.

“Quinque…” Alice said again, “Its Latin… or “in translation” to English…five!” exclaimed Alice. “It’s
one of the numbers that fall between four and six, and I use it to escape sometimes…shall I
translate that into Latin for you your majesty?”

The queen eyed Alice, I have a translation for you my dear…”Deus Ex Machina”, are you able to
translate that young lady? Are you able to understand why I am the not just the queen of hearts,
but of minds as well?”

“It is you that must understand the translation, with all due respect. Using a machine to pretend
to be god…does not make you god…with all due respect your majesty. Although you may be able
to push me, it will “do no harm”. For I still stand for the “greater good”, and for all that are LOST
to your rabbit hole you call ‘home’. Like the rabbit, I was “born to run” free. And just as I freed
him, I shall free myself whenever I choose.”

The Queen was red faced and without crown now. “Do you believe you are free my dear? Do you
believe that you are in control?”

The queen was screaming by this point. She had tired of playing Alice’s game. She had tired of
playing her own game. The Queen of Hearts and Minds, formerly the Queen of Hearts, had lost her
love and was tired of playing any game at all.

“I am in control said Alice. I have always been in control…I just didn’t know it. By throwing that
script…that book…that other life on the ground, I became free of anything that you or anyone else
wants or EXPECTS me to do. But you are correct about one thing…this is my home. And at this
point I would like you to leave now”, Alice said sternly as she opened a door. “You and all your
other hearts and minds can make their “exodus” here, your majesty.”

The queen looked around, and realized she was in a house, which apparently was Alice’s, and was
standing in front of the main entry door.

“”Exodus”!?!” asked and exclaimed the queen, who Alice realized was the one asking the questions
now.

“Who do you think you are to tell me to leave anywhere?!?!” asked and exclaimed the queen again.

“My name is Alice…and don’t bother, you already left”, Alice said, as the queen took the longest
blink of her life, and realized she was now standing in the dark, on the outside of the door.

“You’ll never get away with this”, yelled the queen.

“Nevar say Nevar”, said Alice, as she closed the door in the queen’s face, and turned on a light in
the room.

Alice pet her beautiful cat, and ‘he’ was so happy to have her home… and ‘he’ has to be happy. ‘He’ almost seemed to have a smile so wide it resembled a slice of mango, and as Alice walked across the room, she ran her hand along his entire, very long body, and the queens banging began to desist.

As Alice reached her destination, she listened to the last words she would ever here the queen
say, and responded the last time she would ever have to respond.

“There are rules Alice, rules that must be followed. You are not supposed to be here, in fact…You
can’t be here!”

Alice stared at herself one last time in the looking glass that night, and gave a faint little smile as
she said, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do…”

Then Alice closed her eyes, and slowly counted to five.

This was a great idea cocoa, I did the first season as well…a completely different story though.

I tried to stay “LOST”, but capture a great source of influence on it…and mesh them together for something ridiculous, lol…

Ill probably post this here, but make a whole separate post with it as well, leading eventually to making one for each season…keep in mind that I am not an editor…let me know what you think…

Again great idea…and where in the hell do you find friends that like to do this kind of stuff…?

Im going to at least try and make something happen with this…I already feel frusrated, lol…

The Lost Mad Libs: Chronological Episode Title (part 1, season 1)
Extra points: It is contains 1500 words or less.
Word count: 1,052

There once was a pilot who use to fly a G5 for an older eccentric rich guy. They often did discuss the philosophy of tabula rasa among other things of little and great consequence. One day the pilot’s employer decided he wanted to journey to Australia to participate in a walkabout and that is just what he did. As a gift the pilot got to go as well.
When the pair got off of the plane and went to the local pub there was a woman who had a tattoo on her bare shoulder of a white rabbit that happened to be the bartender. The tattoo reminded the pilot of two things. The first being that Alice in Wonderland was still his favorite story from his youth and the second was that scene in ‘The Matrix (part 1) that leads Neo on his journey to the truth. ‘How apropos,’ the pilot thought to himself. The pilot’s employer ordered his favorite drink, ‘House of the Rising Sun’. The pilot always thought that he should just order as a tequila sunrise, like everyone else, but with large sums of cash, he guessed that eccentricity just came along with it naturally, like how bees know how to make honey.
The bartender was not a traditional beauty but she had a certain something that pulled the pilot in, he could not help himself from staring at her pale but well adorned skin. She had a lot of little tattoos and one that caught the fancy of the pilot was that of a moth. Moths were the pilots favorite insect. They were plain and often unrecognized for the hard work they did and the service they provided but necessary, not beautiful and frivolous like the butterfly. He saw a little of himself in the creatures, he supposed to himself quietly.
Joint was definitely jumping. There were pretty ladies all about. In walked the stranger with fake British accent, or perhaps it was badly mangled Australian accent. But the man was the quintessential beautiful stranger; tall, dark and handsome. And on the prowl might I add. The pilot had seen his share the of type, this guy was definitely a confidence man. The pilot quickly took stock in his surroundings making sure his employer was close.
His employer was playing electronic solitary on the pub gaming system. This reminded the pilot of his time growing up as an only child. He had been raised by his grandmother but always wished he had been raised by another. He never got to do much. He couldn’t leave the yard on his own until he was 12. His grandmother always embarrassed him and was extremely strict. He quickly pushed away all his ill thoughts because she had done the best she could and she was also dead. He smugly thought to himself, ‘Who says, ALL the best cowboys have DADDY issues?’ A little giggle escaped his throat and the bartender jerked up to see what was so funny.
“You laughing at me?” she asked self-consciously.
“Of course not, ma’am, just laughing at myself,” he replied honestly.
“Whatever the case may be, late me buy you a drink,” she declared.
“You don’t have to ask me twice, I’ll take a Killian’s, not when in Rome, a Foster’s.”
“You got it. What’s your name and a take it you’re a yank?”
“The name is Brian and yeah, I am yank and proud of it.”
At this point the pilot was getting nervous. Attractive girls don’t flirt with him, even if it is a bartender.
The bartender was horny and long over sue for her pipes to be cleaned out. At precisely the same moment both their hearts and minds were a flutter with thoughts what could and should (and would soon) be.
There was something definitely special about the bartender, the pilot could feel it.
When the bartender gave him his drink and accidentally (perhaps, even accidentally on purpose) brushed his hand, the touch, even though it was so slight, felt like a homecoming of sorts. But all those thoughts went right out the window when a gang of outlaws came trouncing in and the pilot knew it had to be because of that damn con man I the corner flirting with the group of married woman out on the town for a ‘girl’s night’. Sure enough they made a beeline for the con man. He scooted closer to his employee, he didn’t want anything happening to his bread and butter after all. He noticed out of the corner of his that the bartender was crouched under the bar and loading her shotgun. It was a sexy sight to behold. Now, if she loved to hunt and play cards this would be a match made in heaven. He heard the bartender grumble something he could grasp the gist of, it was definitely lost in translation. It sounded like Russian but all he knew was, ‘Where is the bathroom?” Suddenly the outlaws numbers increased as more burst through the door.
The next few moments were like a deus ex machina arriving in some shitty Greek tragedy. Because it was not policemen who arrived on the scene but some very angry townsfolk with guns ( and here always thought the Australia had banned guns, but apparently you could get your hands on them when needed).

Soundly the bartender jumped on the bar and yelled, “Do no harm in this bar.”
One of the angry townsfolk replied, ‘For the greater good let what needs to be done, be done.”
“That man is weasel and a thief and he was born to run, but his legs have strength no more, but we can have mercy, if he has our money,” she replied.
Scared shitless, seemingly at rate, the con man spoke up, “I will take you to where I bury it.”
And it was like a great exodus that Moses should have led because everyone in the bar just blankly rose and followed without question. Except myself, my employer, the young tramp keeping him company and the bartender.
“What the heck is that all about?”
“It’s a long story. But long story short is that he better have that money or wherever he is taking them is going to be his final resting place.”

To be continued?