Hunting the White Rabbit

Alex threw his tranquilized turkey down. The crowd gasped. The Queen looked furious. “I want the white rabbit,” he declared.

“The white rabbit is not yours to hunt,” the Queen said with too much calm in her voice.

“If I find it first, it is!” Knocking over the card that held the dart gun and yanking it from him, he ran zig-zag around the cards as quick as a jackrabbit. He spotted the box of red darts and lunged for them.

He made his way for the fence, shoved the cards in his way back over the barb wire and clambered over them to safely escape the boundaries of the Queen’s property.

Leaning against a tree, he loaded the gun, listening for the Queen and her army. The startled rabbit dashed before him, and he gave chase. Over fallen logs, through brush, under vines, and around trees he dashed, cottony tail in sight. Finally, he zagged and Alex zigged, aimed on the fly, prayed, and squeezed the trigger.

Bounding to the spot where he went down, his hand gripped two white ears and held them up for the Queen.

The End

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