A small paw tugged at Alice’s skirt. It was the Mouse, his whiskers twitching in time with the music.
“You’re not running,” he squeaked.
“Am I meant to?” Alice asked.
“The Dodo says everyone must run,” the Mouse replied, “It’s the rule.”
“But the rules were never announced,” Alice countered.
The Mouse blinked slowly. “Precisely. That’s the only truly fair system. Now you must run, or you’ll be Still. And to be Still is to be Out.”
“And what does Out mean?”
The Mouse looked at her with profound pity. “Why, it means you’re not In.”
And with that impeccable logic, he vanished into the swirling, tra-la-la-la-ing mass.
Alice paused, shrugged as if it hardly mattered, and off she ran—darting between legs, bumping the Dodo, treading on the Mouse, nearly tripping over the Duck.
Her hair streamed wild behind her, her voice tumbling out in song.
“Tra la la la la…” she sang aloud.
Tra-la-la-la-laing like a computer caught in an endless loop---until someone finally pressed Escape.
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