"But there’s plenty of room," said Alice.

"If you were carrying a sign, then we could invite you," Mad Hannity said.

"It should be handwritten," Duck Armie added, "because this is a grassroots tea party. One of my secretaries at my lobbying firm can make one for you if you like. Now that AIG isn’t paying us as much, they have so little to do."

"Thank you," Alice replied. "But I should like to know what the sign will say."

"Oh, something rash," Duck Armie said.

"Did someone call my name?" said a large badger who had been asleep on the table.

"Oh no, Chairman Rash," Duck quacked, " no one would be so disrespectful as to utter the name of Chairman Rash Limberger, without first bowing to you, the Head Cheese. I was merely suggesting that her sign should say something rash."


Rash nodded. "And racist," he added, "like a picture of President Obama with thick lips and a Hitler moustache, in a Mao uniform, shining somebody’s shoes." Then he nodded off again.

"You can stay," Birdbill O’Really said loudly, looking at Alice meaningfully. "Sit here beside me."

"Have some tea," the Mad Hannity offered.

"But there isn’t any," Alice said.

"Of course not," Mad Hannity sniffed. "It’s Wall Street tea. It's the proper tea for revolutionaries protesting against high taxes."

"But didn’t President Obama cut taxes for 95% of Americans?" Alice asked.

"Oh, that’s all right for them," Duck Armie said. "But what about us—the real Americans?"

"Socialists!" cried another voice. It came from an old man hidden behind a teapot. "There are seventeen socialists in Congress!"

"That’s Old Uncle Joe," Birdbill O’Really said reverently. "Isn’t he inspirational?"