Hey all. So, here is my attempt at copying the style of "The Colonel". I believe I failed, but hey, I guess that's creative writing for ya.
Wonderland's Waiting Room
What you have heard: it is false. I may have slipped, but I never hit my head. I fell too long. The ground welcomed me after crashing through the ceiling. I sat up. There was blood pouring from my knee in a crimson torrent of passion. Around me, a bizarre décor. There were doors surrounding me of nightmares and dreams. Clocks had wedged themselves into the dirt. They go counter-clockwise, until time is irrelevant. It is just a passing fancy. The glass table is round with ornate legs. It looks as if an author had penned them from cursive. The bottle was meant to be consumed, so I did. Upon shrinking, the checkerboard ceiling appeared a gigantic game with debris acting as the pieces. I found the right nightmare, acquired the correct key, and I opened the door. Stepping through the threshold, I found a ground that existed in my mind. Its pebbles were memories. Its stones were dreams. The brilliance of the sun reflecting off the giant face-flowers blinded me. I felt myself on the brink of war: did I hit my head? Can this be reality? A pinch did nothing to stir the world from being. Compared to the dim reaches of the waiting room, the air around me sang. The air always sings in Wonderland.