The Cloak of Invincibility

The Queen returned a few minutes later, strutting toward them. Alice gasped. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The Queen wore an imperial grin but nothing else. He was totally naked. Alice looked up at the sky, down at the ground beneath her feet, anywhere to avoid looking at the unpleasant corpulence that stood before her.

“I am now invincible,” said the Queen. “There is nothing more to worry about.”

“But he’s not wearing anything,” Alice whispered to the White Rabbit.

“And do you want to be the one to tell him?” answered the Rabbit.

“Step closer to me, Alice if it pleases me,” said the Queen.

“I really couldn’t, your regalness,” Alice replied.

“But you must,” the Queen insisted.

“I shouldn’t, your sovereigness,” said Alice.

“I command you!”

“I shan’t, your nakedness.”

Leaves stop rustling, birds stopped chirping. A painful silence gripped the coutyard. Breaths were held. The only movement was Alice’s trembling. The Queen looked at his extremities — his feet, his legs, his hands, his arms. He looked at his torso. He looked straight at Alice It was a malevolent look. “Whatever are you talking about? Now step closer or I shall have your head.”

Alice didn’t budge. The Queen’s face got redder and redder. He fumed. But wait –the Queen seemed to be getting smaller. He was getting smaller! So was the White Rabbit and all the others.

The Cheshire Cat’s head appeared and now hovered above them. The Walrus waddled in, followed by the carpenter. They too were smaller. When Alice stood face to face with the Cheshire Cat, she realized it was she who was growing larger.

“Enough, enough,” said the Walrus. “This negativity gets us nowhere.”

“What do you mean?” asked the now full-sized Alice.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “to talk of noble things. Like election day and making choices, and voting, you ding-a-lings.”

“The sad truth is,” said the Cheshire Cat, “an estimated 40 percent of us won’t vote at all.”

“That’s terrible,” said Alice.  “We should be ashamed.”

“Off with our heads,” added the Queen.

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A writer of fiction and other stuff who lives in Vermont where winters are long and summers as short as my attention span.

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