I opened the giant map I keep in my basement "lair". It's really a rec room, but Cheshire insists it's a lair.

"Feed me," he also insists.

"Eat a rodent, I'm PLOTTING," I insist. Cheshire mumbles something under his breath and heads upstairs.

I must have fallen asleep while plotting. My head is pounding, and I don't have any clothes on. Did Cheshire undress me? He's a cat.

Bleary-eyed, I feel around for my glasses. I put what I thought was them against my eyes. It was a petri dish.