The Hare gathered nuts, just as he gathered people. He felt a certain kinship with a squirrel he met on the road, and did not feel the need to explain.
“Are there nuts in July?” I asked.
“There are nuts he said, plenty of them”
and he lead some euphoric-looking people into the room, each of them tied loosely with leaves like an organic chain gang – the best kind. one of them held a flower between his teeth, the other stroked it where it purred and all the cats of the neighbourhood responded.
One extolled the virtues of marshmallow, one made blackcurrant jam leap forward from underneath her skin,
she counted the hours up to this moment and passed, along a line, the truth serum that was required to cut though all this nonsense. If this is all too much for you to take in, only note this – it was like the best hot chocolate. The chocolate I tasted in a Bratislavan Café once, but that’s not important.
One of them was a newsreader, but was delighted and confused to find that now the news was different – a different hymnsheet which extolled something that felt like the future but was more like the best bits of the news already told – the dog who rides the skateboard, for instance.
And someone who worked in security for a big company, guarding a building with nothing in it. He got a lot of reading done and so could account for this as if he was reading it.
“So, people” said The Hare “I see you are here, because I dragged you. It’s a start. Regardez-Vous this room: it has no corners, don’t upset it”
“Proceedings henceforth will be highly scientific. You will be a sort of puppet show.”
The Hare then unceremoniously scattered cushions, kittens and pillows upon the floor.
“There!” he said, as if he had achieved something more impressive.
“Now the only down is ground, AND THE GROUND IS SOFT AS MARSHMALLOW!”