White Rabbit

The lick of paint dripped dot after dot after dot of red. Late Late Late. Being a White Rabbit had meant timeliness mattered. For in the Hall of Greats all were swift and agile and for heaven sake on time!

‘Goodness’ he said as he saw the paint, the girl and good heavens even the Red Queens guards. All stood thrusting about paintbrushes upon roses. And drip drip drip they hadn’t, in the least bit dried. Fully bloomed roses they were, with petals that pouted from the weight of paint and wrinkled in ways roses just shouldn’t. All along the grass were spots of paint. If one had to guess the culprit, she’d only need to see an extra spot of red of on the ten of hearts, or splatters of it on the six of spades, or a large smear upon the brow of a young girl. But who had time to think. All this thinking went on in bunny time- which is like regular time except with a creature far more anxious, whom hops on the spot to think. And certainly on any other occasion he might have considered helping, heck at any other time but oh no he was terribly late! 

A long, loud horn blasted sound into the air and finally disturbed the White Rabbit out of his thinking. In fact, it disturbed the cards and in turn the girl too. All of whom scrambled to and fro, discarded their brushes amongst bushes, ran some more, until falling upon their knees. The White Rabbit blew his own trumpet and announced her coming, perhaps she wouldn’t notice his absence or lateness. He was not mistaken for as soon as the Red Queen arrived she erupted in disorderly screams of heads that needed be chopped off. The White Rabbit understood her horror as he looked at the miserable soggy roses that had once been magnificent. He wouldn’t agree on the head chopping, no his ancestors never approved violence- but still her word was law and he hadn’t the voice to say otherwise.

After witnessing the trembling of the girl who called herself Alice. The White rabbit remarked subtly that the flamingos awaited her Majesty, and were most eager to play in her sport. He also mentioned that perhaps the girl might make a humble opponent. That sparked the Red Queen with delight that coloured her cheeks rose -rather than the awful tomato shade it had been moments earlier. See the Queen loved to show anyone her game, particularly when she would more than likely win against them. Her superiority was never questioned where games were concerned and that suited the folks at court well enough. For if they could spend an afternoon without fear of a loss of head they were more than pleased. Afterall nasty business that was, head chopping.  And so a very small Alice caressed a pale pink flamingo who’s feathers felt like silk. She smiled right until she was told to grip his legs for their game of croquet. A game in which the White Rabbit was sorry to say that she had quite the little frown and pout as she handled the creature in a way she thought was most undignified.   


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