Inside the Main Hall, special guests gathered for the preview of Wabbit Con. "Ah Wabsworth," said the Wabbit, I hope I'm on that list." Wabsworth waved his clipboard. "My list is blank. I'll write you in and you can be first." The Wabbit smiled and viewed the hall. "I must say the Department has done well." Lapinette agreed but did not say she had routed cash from the Wabbit's Dinosaur Fund to pay for refreshments. The Wabbit relaxed and watched adventure stills on the big screen. But through light jazz playing from the sound system, drifted a conversation between two fans dressed as Lapinette. "Where are you from, darling?" "Los Angeles, honey." "How fabulous. I'm from London." "I love London. Say, can you hear a ticking?" "No, it must be part of the music." "Well it's going right through my head." The Wabbit swung and tuned his ears to fans dressed as Ice Mice. "I do like jazz," said one, "but the percussion isn't right." "Do you mean that ticking?" "Yes, I can't get rid of it. It's all I can hear." The Wabbit turned to Lapinette. "Have you got a ticking noise?" Lapinette frowned and listened hard. "It sounds like an oven timer." The Wabbit sprung in the air and yelled at the top of his voice. "Free aperitivi in the basement!" In the stampede that followed, he pushed Lapinette under the jeep. The Wabbit heard the roar and saw the flash before everything went black ...
