Tale Weavers, this week – anything goes; only two stipulations. One: at least some of your tale should transpire in March. Two: that the tale have at least a moment or two of madness!
BBC.uk: a march hare
Some sort of Shakespearean insulting* seemed to be coming from the far end of the garden. Donning flowered rubber boots against slugs, my ball cap against stray falling stars, and grabbing my retractable barge pole for other protection, I slinked down to the back gate. A hare was demanding the gate open; the gate was obviously ignoring the request.
“Thou warped flap-mouthed nut-hook,” he spittled, shaking a paw and an ear at the offending piece of hardware. “You lick-spittle ballock-washer.” This was one mad mad hare. Approach with caution.
“Good afternoon, Sir Hare (hoped he liked titles). Can I be of assistance?” The hare swung around and semi-focused his crazed eyes on me.
“Mistress – are you acquainted with this g-d a-h?
“Yes, it’s my fence.”
“Well, then kindly tell the mammering motley-minded giglet to step aside at once.”
“I’m afraid, Sir Hare, that’s not how things work here. The personage who wants to move through, must first unlatch the fence themselves.”
“Themselves!” The indignant hare rose up to his full height, but too short to ever reach the latch. Then he sighed, lowering himself to the ground, looking quite depressed. “I suppose by now it’s 75 minutes to 69 past 6.”
“Somewhere it is, I answered.
“What a dankish clapper-clawed fustilarian I am. I’ve missed the Mad Hatter’s Bracket** and Tea Party for sure! How is this March Hare to get his March Madness now?”
“Simple,” I replied. “Come with me – remember to wipe your paws on the mat. I’ll get some refreshments, and we’ll watch these guys stand up on stage and say why they should run the country and the world. It’s mad and it’s madness.”
* From Facebook – it’s a hoot!
** picking who will play who in the March Madness American College Basketball Tournament – a national obsession in March.
bbc.uk: another march hare