The Hare in Harry's Hair
Short Story by Carrie Martin


Harry sat in his backyard, shaded from the afternoon sun by a pair of pear trees. He was very busy playing in the dirt with his favourite collection of plastic dinosaurs when the neighbour's grumpy old dog went berserk.

"AROOOOF....WOOOOF....AAAARF....GRRRR."

Something furry and blue with two long ears zoomed through a hole in the fence. Before Harry could tell what it was, the creature rocketed into the air—straight towards him! T-Rex somersaulted out of Harry's hand, and the furry blue thing landed flat on the top of his head.

Harry squealed and ran around the yard waving his arms. "Get it off me! Get it off!"

But the thing didn't budge one bit. In fact, it gripped his thick, curly orange hair even tighter.

Harry burst into the house. "Mom! Mom! There's something in my hair!"

A large shape covered in polka-dots—Harry's mother—bounced into the kitchen. "Harry? Why do you have a hare in your hair?"

"How can I have a hair in my hair? Hair is hair. And besides, hair doesn't have ears."

"Not hair, Harry—HARE. A rather large rabbit."

Harry stomped down the hallway, to the long oval mirror at the bottom of the stairs. He stared at the hare. The hare stared at Harry. Then he sat on the bottom stair and sighed. What a miserable predicament, he thought.

He rubbed his chin, wondering how to remove the hare from his hair. "Right," he said, after much consideration.

He trudged back through the kitchen, swinging his arms, past a slightly amused mother and out the door. He grabbed his bicycle and took off down the street. "See how you like this," said Harry to the hare.

The hare clung even tighter to Harry's hair and said, "Tut-tut."

Harry pedaled faster and faster through the neighbourhood, until his cheeks turned red. "Get ready to fly," he told the hare and skidded abruptly to a stop.

The hare said, "Tut-tut-tut", but didn't budge one bit.

Two girls walked by in flowery sun dresses, holding matching pink ice-cream on matching pink cones. They peered at Harry over the top of their pink round scoops. Harry blew a big wet raspberry at the two girls. The blue hare blew a tiny raspberry, and they cycled away.

Next, Harry zigzagged across a bumpy field, riding over the bumpiest bumps he could find. But the hare didn't budge one bit.

Harry cycled all the way to the water park. He stopped just outside the ticket booth, and fumbled inside his pockets for change. He counted three dimes, seven nickels, and eight quarters.

He grinned and told the hare: "If you're not going to play fair, I'll just have to blast you off with water." Then he paid the fare—all eight quarters—to the ticket attendant and strolled into the water park.

He plonked his bike on the grass, beside a bench where two old ladies sat chattering a little too loudly from under oversized sun-hats. The old ladies gasped. They looked at each other, then at Harry, then at each other, then at Harry again.

"It's rude to stare you know," said Harry. The hare nodded in agreement. Then Harry pulled off his shoes and socks and tugged the t-shirt right over his head. The hare didn't budge one bit.

Harry charged into the splash pad wearing only his shorts (under where he wore his underwear) and a hare hat. The other children were too busy running and screaming and getting wet to notice Harry and the hare splashing by. The hare clung even tighter to Harry's hair, closed its eyes, and said, "Tut-tut-tut-tut-tut."

Harry threw his arms up and ran wildly through the squirting sprays of water. They both got soaking wet, but the hare didn't budge one bit.

"Okay, that's it. You asked for it," grumbled Harry. Like a bad-tempered bear, Harry marched his bare feet out of the splash pad, around the pool, and up the steps to the giant twister waterslide.

The hare clung even tighter to Harry's hair and said, "Tut-tut-tut-tut-tut. Tut-tut-tut."

Harry dived—hare first—into the yellow tube, and down they went, sliding and swirling. They slid and swirled all the way to bottom and then flew out the flue into the pool.

When Harry resurfaced he was giggling uncontrollably, but the hare didn't budge one bit. Harry swam like a frog over to the pool's edge, still giggling. The hare gave a little giggle too.

Harry patted the hare's head. "You win," he said. "Now let's go home."

"Tut," said the hare.

Fifteen minutes later, they crashed through the door to Harry's kitchen where his mother was cooking dinner. "Are you having a friend for dinner?" she asked Harry as he sat down at the table.

"Yes. Can you please set an extra plate for my hare?"

"Certainly. What would your hare like to eat?" His mother set an extra plate beside Harry.

"I think, that my hare would like a carrot sandwich," said Harry.

Without a pause the hare said "tut" and lovingly dabbed Harry's orange eyebrows with its two front paws. Then Harry's hare sprang off his bushy hair and took a seat—just in time for dinner.

Carrie Martin Writes ©2014-2017