“Yoo hoo! Anyone up there? It’s me, Alice. Seems I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole and could sure use a little help from my friends.”
Alice, hi! Barb here at Window on Main Street.
“Wait, hold on a sec., I’m getting a text. Hmmmm, that’s weird, all it says is ‘run 4 ur lives.’”
What’s weird is how you’re getting service at the bottom of a rabbit hole? Never mind, check your news feed for updates.
“Got it! Wow! According to the Wonderland Newswire, a potentially dangerous situation is developing over at the big white asylum on Pennsylvania Avenue, and those close to the situation confirm one of the inmates, identified as Mad Hatter, has taken over the asylum.”
Alice, can you see anything?
“Well, since I am standing at the bottom of a hole, not much.”
Look around until you see a big mirror around there someplace.
“Barb, how did you know? There’s one right over in the corner, but how’s that going to help?”
Since when do rabbit holes have corners? Never mind. Alice, trust me on this, try walking through the mirror.
“Are you nuts? I’ll be cut to smithereens.”
If it helps, call it a “looking glass.” If my hunch is right, it’s a portal that leads out of the rabbit hole.
“OK, here goes. Oh my gosh! It actually worked.”
It is so hard these days, Alice, but all it takes is a little trust. OK, what do you see? Anybody there you can talk to?
“There’s a tea party going on. I don’t want to crash it, and judging from the guests it must be a costume party. Wait, I see the big white asylum and someone has just emerged, his hair is on fire and he’s running this way.”
Alice, who is it? Do you recognize him?
“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s not Ralph Perk, rest his soul. Sir, you with your hair on fire, stop running. You’re fanning the flames, calm down and tell me what happened in there. What was so incendiary your hair committed an act of spontaneous combustion?”
And the flaming haired man replied, “It is too awful to speak of. The Hatter has gone completely mad this time. He is holed up in the Doral Room over in the west wing. He’s spinning gold from taxpayers’ money and screaming ‘no collusion, no quid pro quo.’”
Epilogue – Last we heard from the land of wonder, Tweedledum Mick and Tweedledee Rick were busy debating how to redefine the term “quid pro quo.” No word yet on the success of their endeavor.
And we are happy to report Alice, with some help from her friends and a rescue harness, got up and out of the rabbit hole, which has been sealed.
Then on Oct. 24, the children of Hamelin Falls, fearful the Mad Hatter would sic Rudy the Pied Piper on them again, attempted to win his respect by stealing pumpkins from the surrounding countryside then spinning them into golden goo.
To further amuse Hatter, the kids became court jesters of a sort and merrily slid atop sleds on the golden goo down a Hill named Grover. Legend is the hill was named for President Grover Cleveland, but no one knows why.
The quickly developing story continued with Rapunzel, Alice’s replacement, who reported from the garden of the roses just outside the asylum the day bulldozers moved in to clear the land for Hatter’s presidential profit center and depository for funds derived from the sale of MWGA hats (Make Wonderland Grand Again).
Author’s Note – We conclude this week’s offering with apologies to Louis Carroll, the Brothers Grimm, President Grover Cleveland and The Beatles. And we would be remiss if we did not thank those who read all the way through without calling the FBI.