Nestled between towering windmills and spinning clown heads sat the most peculiar resident of Hole-in-One Haven—a lanky, white rabbit dressed in a crisp vest and neatly pressed pants. He wasn’t just any rabbit. He was The Rabbit, and he lived for two things: mini golf and ice cream.
Every morning, before the first players arrived, The Rabbit hopped through the course, inspecting each obstacle with the seriousness of a tournament official. The loop-the-loop? Smooth. The pirate ship? Swinging properly. The dreaded volcano hole? Ready to ruin someone’s day.
But once his inspection was complete, The Rabbit’s real mission began: securing the first ice cream of the day.
He sprinted to the snack stand before the park opened, tapping his large foot impatiently as the sleepy vendor wiped down the counter. “One triple-decker strawberry swirl with hot fudge, whipped cream, and a cherry—STAT!” he announced.
The vendor sighed. “You’re here every single morning…”
“And yet, you’re still surprised!” The Rabbit grinned, balancing the towering scoop like a prized trophy.
But then—disaster struck.
Just as The Rabbit turned toward the course, eager to enjoy his treat atop the windmill, he saw Bully Beaver grinning by the 18th hole. The Beaver had one mission in life: to challenge The Rabbit’s mini golf supremacy.
“I bet you my ice cream sundae…” Bully Beaver sneered, “…that I can beat you on the final hole.”
The Rabbit gasped. The stakes were high.
With his ice cream trembling in one hand, he grabbed a putter and took position. A single shot down the slope, through the castle doors, and into the hidden hole would decide everything.
The Beaver took his shot—plop—off-course, doomed.
The Rabbit smirked. He lined up, measured the angle, and with the perfect swing sent the ball rolling… rolling… rolling… straight into the hole.
Victory!
The Rabbit cheered. And, most importantly, now he had two ice creams