Alice the Amazing ⇒ STRANGER THINGS

[74] Alice's Adventures in Margaritaville

A/N [from 2022] You know how I said part 4 was going to get scary then sad then weird and fun? Welcome to the weird and fun!

{The Piggyback, Part III}

Alice regained consciousness when she heard the familiar chords of Lance's favorite song:

"Wasting away again in Margaritaville..."

Eyes still closed, she stirred. It felt like she was lying in her bed. Was she in bed?

"...searching for my lost shaker of salt."

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. What happened? Wasn't she just in the Upside Down with Steve?

"Some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but I know it's my own damn fault."

What sounded like a chainsaw revving up drowned out the song's outro. Alice snapped her eyes open and bolted to a sitting position.

She was in bed, but it wasn't her own. It was a California-King-size waterbed with a fluffy white duvet cover.

The bed was in the middle of a modest one-room apartment. Across from the bed was a set of French doors leading to a sandy beach. Glistening blue waves lapped the shore in the distance.

To the right of the bed was a small living space: a sofa, TV, and shelf of board games.

To the left, a kitchenette. Alice blinked a couple times to ensure she was actually seeing what she thought: Clive Cottontail dumping tequila into a blender (the "chainsaw" she heard) while humming the Jimmy Buffett song.

"What the fuck?!" Alice said.

Clive turned and beamed.

"Alice!" he said. "Oh, I missed you!"

He hopped off the counter and across the room, jumping onto the bed with a soft thud.

"Did you hear the song?" he said urgently.

Alice rubbed her forehead.

"Wait a minute," she said. "My Walkman fucking up and playing Jimmy Buffett—that was you?!"

"Yes!" Clive said. "Vecna tried to sever our connection when he took your powers. Thankfully, that brute didn't realize just how strong such a connection is! Even with your weakened powers, I could reach out in my own way. I couldn't become corporeal, so I went with the next best thing."

"This song was the next best thing?" Alice deadpanned, nodding in the direction of the boombox on the counter playing "Margaritaville" on a loop.

"My original plan was to play a bunch of different songs," Clive said sheepishly, crossing his paws behind his back. "And mash them together, to make messages! But it turns out paws are not great for changing cassettes."

"But they are great for making margaritas!" a scratchy voice said from the sofa. "Hop to it!"

Alice whipped her head toward the right, eyes bugging out when she noticed: "Mews?!"

Sure enough, the Henderson's late cat sat atop a pile of pillows, looking regal.

"That's Cheshire Mews to you," she purred.

Alice let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Oh, shit," Alice said. "This dream...this one takes the cake as weirdest one ever."

"You're not dreaming, Alice," Clive said quietly.

"No, I am," Alice said. She pushed back the comforter and stood from the bed. "I passed out in the Upside Down, and I'm probably in the back of an ambulance, and they gave me morphine or something, and now I'm having insane dreams where my imaginary friend and my dead cat get drunk and listen to beach music."