The hare pulled a watch from his pocket, stretching it as far as the fob allowed.
“Drat!” he wheezed, at the lateness of the hour and the inconvenience of having once again misplaced his pince-nez. Where in the world was that girl?
It was a steamy September morning, the 193rd repetition of the time-fantasy loop. The Queen would be livid. When, afterall, wasn’t she?
But still.
“Drat!” he scurried down the path. He’d do his part, at least.
She was there, at rabbit hole’s edge, swinging her maryjanes and tossing blonde curls.
“Let’s go find Waldo, instead!” she giggled.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2018)
Microfiction Madness Story Prompt (April 2018): Write a 100 word or less story or poem based on the photo:
Valley of the Trolls 
That hare needs to get hazard pay. It’s fine when it is a girl named Alice waiting by the hole entrance – but what about the fox?
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Alice’s got his back. Nobody–but NOBODY–messes with the blonde!
😉
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