Waddling. Side to Side/9

The Dodo, puffing very grandly, kept on quacking the word ReBoOt.

“Would this change Wonderland?” Alice asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.

The Dodo, catching his breath, answered with pompous pity. “A ReBoOt is simple: one forgets the errors, clears the memory”—he puffed and wheezed—“and hopes the story will run smoother this time.”

“But what if it forgets too much?” Alice pressed.

“Then,” said the Dodo, “Wonderland crashes! Or you crash! Or both—QUAACK!”

No question followed.

The creatures waddled side to side, swaying like a metronome. Wings flapped out of time—up when they ought to be down, down when they ought to be up.

Alice, finding it all perfectly unreasonable and therefore just right for Wonderland, burst into helpless laughter.

The Mouse, usually a champion sprinter, ran oddly slow behind the Duck. Its sharp muzzle jabbed Donald again and again, sending him springing upward—quacking perfectly on cue every time. 

Its tail almost waddled side to side, its little belly sketched along the ground, leaving a faint, zigzag mouse trail behind it.

William For Traffic/6

Alice's hand drifted out, almost from habit, as if to scroll.

“Ahem. I serve a different function." sighed the Mouse. “He clicks, I talk.”

Giggling, Alice tucked her hands into her lap. “How curious! Do you tell stories?”

“Indeed,” said the Mouse while whacking his tail.  “Short stories—shorter than this.”

“Then tell me about William the Conqueror. No longer than a meter.” Alice suggested eagerly.

“William the Conqueror,” the Mouse began—“Hrrmph!” (as solemnly as a mouse could manage)—“flanked by a swarm of grown-drones, drove his AI- guided limousine, armoured in diamonds, straight into the heart of battle...”

“That’s not the William in my lessons!” Alice broke in, a little rudely (though she did not mean it).

“Little lady, listen close!” the Mouse squeaked, puffing his whiskers, “Everyone—yes, everyone—loves absurdity!”

He twitched his tail for emphasis. “It’s the only thing that truly generates TraFFic."

Tumble-Tumble Trouble/5

Alice went tumble-tumble — splash! — into something wet.

“Oh no,” she sighed.

“What is this?”

“A pool of your own tears,” whispered a voice.

“My tears? But… I don’t recall weeping.”

She tapped at her soil-tangled hair, while pictures upon pictures skittered through her mind.

I ought to be ashamed of myself, she thought.

So busy for a little girl — yet she noticed something drifting near: fur, whiskers, a long, twitching muzzle.

“Clumsy, big-footed… Ratty,” Alice guessed.

The creature bristled.

“Mouse. Handsome. Tail a meter long. On your desk sits my cousin.”

Stamping the water, he insisted — almost desperately —

“Mouse!”