"Whoah!" yelled the Wabbit as he grabbed what he could. "Yikes!" shouted Lapinette. Lapinette had trained at the Marinsky Ballet and had no trouble with a foothold. But she'd also seen the dank shape of evil paws and didn't like the cut of their jib one bit. Magic Red Rabbit balanced precariously on a strut and peered down. A row of eyes peered back. "There they are," he cried. "There are all the red rabbits." The hall of struts darkened and a voice boomed out. "Now you're trapped with the rest. You'll be here until the end of time." The Wabbit shook his head and looked up. "This isn't Amtrak! Get us off the rails and release our friends." Suddenly the framework sagged and the Wabbit looked down. A pit of spikes pointed back so he held on tight. Lapinette whispered. "Do you have a plan?" "I have a Plan B," said the Wabbit, "so what time is it?" The voice boomed from the heights of the framework. "It's later than you think, rancid rabbits." "That's good," whispered the Wabbit to Lapinette, "help is already on its way." "What shall we do in the meantime?" asked Lapinette. "Insult them back," suggested the Wabbit. Lapinette thought for a moment then glanced up. "Your paws need pruning." Magic red rabbit joined in the fray. "Sore hocks, sore hocks!" "You've all got the monkey pox," yelled the Wabbit. It was as if an earthquake struck. The building shook and the framework with it. "We'll make you wish you'd never been born!" boomed the voice. "That's nothing new," yelled the Wabbit. And he checked the time ...
[sore hocks: ulcerative
pododermatitis is a condition in rabbits usually affecting feet.]
