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Friday, January 29, 2016
9. The Wabbit's Door of Perception
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
8. The Wabbit and his Point of View
The hat span towards the Wabbit and the Wabbit watched it spin. But everything moved slowly. Skratch's three heads were shouting. "Catch the hat." Energy from the blue blast coursed through his body and the Wabbit's fur felt electric. Somewhere to his right, Jenny covered groans with curses. He slowly held up a paw and looked at it. It pulsed with a cold blue light. Time stopped. The Wabbit wondered whether he could start it again and flexed his paw to see what would happen. The hat started to spin slowly and Jenny's curses sounded like they needed new batteries. The Wabbit flexed his paw twice. The hat froze. All was silent. Ghosts eddied around him but they couldn't touch him. Again the Wabbit flexed his paw and now the hat was coming at him fast. Skratch's voice was a high pitched wail. "Your piece of the code! Put it in the hat." But the hat flashed past the Wabbit's head. Jenny caught it and flung it at the Wabbit. The Wabbit grabbed. Suddenly he had the hat, but it was as slippery as a wet bar of soap and it wriggled away. The Wabbit held up his paw and its glow bathed the hat in blue light. The hat flopped lifelessly to the deck. Jenny was calling. "Put on the hat, Wabbit." The Wabbit stooped and picked it up. He tucked his piece of the code into the lining with the others. Then he carefully placed the hat on his head ...
Monday, January 25, 2016
7. Skratch and the Three Head Leap
Skratch the Cat was used to heights, but he didn't appreciate any help. He went with the blast anyway and wrapped a sinewy limb around a rope. Then he swayed to and fro and took in the view. Jenny had vanished down a ladder and he'd lost sight of the Wabbit. Eddies of air snaked towards him and tore at his fur like piranhas. One by one his cat lettering plunged deckwards and even though he kicked and clawed, he could do nothing to stop his piece of the code escaping his grip. "Pesky ghosts!" hissed Skratch. It was a bit of luck that it fluttered past one of his two extra heads. A single cat snap rescued the code. Skratch purred gently but it was a moment's luxury. He let go of the rope and in free fall, dodged the ghostly eddies and took back the code. His other head was gazing at something and through its eyes, Skratch saw the Wabbit in the midst of a blue blast. They looked one and the same. Skratch caught a rope and paused for a moment and thought, "Who's dream is in charge?" A voice seemed to speak. "Only the Wabbit has nightmares like this." Now he could see Jenny in a corner of the half deck. The strange air was around her like a swarm of bees and he heard Jenny curse as they ripped her hat from her grasp. Skratch's heads spat as one. He let go of the rope and with a single leap, pounced onto the lower deck. Ninety feline teeth snicked as they fastened on Jenny's hat ...
Friday, January 22, 2016
6. Jenny and the Ghostly Blast
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
5. The Wabbit and the Dream Ship
Monday, January 18, 2016
4. The Wabbit and the Missing Page
Friday, January 15, 2016
3. Skratch and the Astral Plane
The voice came from the old graveyard. Tombs lay in dense undergrowth and they ventured in. Skratch hovered slightly above the ground and seemed quite content. "I'm on the astral plane," he purred. "I did not summon you." The Wabbit felt slightly vexed. "You're dreaming," he with a shortness that surprised Lapinette. "No, I was meditating," meowed Skratch, "and now I'm in touch with everyone in this cemetery." Lapinette butted in. "Why have you got three heads?" Skratch nodded them all. "I met Cerberus and we got chatting about heads and numbers." The Wabbit became impatient. "Why are we here?" Skratch's left head nodded. "You, Wabbit have to perform a task." The Wabbit shook his head vigorously. (He had only one and felt it quite enough.) "Who says?" he snapped. Skratch's three heads bobbed. "The occupants of the graveyard." The Wabbit scowled. "I have enough managers," he said. "Let them talk to the Department." "Skratch's heads meowed all at the same time. "I'm afraid they insist on you, Wabbit." "And what if I remain untasked?" asked the Wabbit. Skratch hissed three times. "Then I'm afraid we all remain here." The Wabbit thought hard and his nose twitched. "What about you, Wabsworth?" Wabsworth groaned. "I don't think I can cope with a three headed Skratch for long." "OK," said the Wabbit. "You Lapinette?" "Let's see what they want," smiled Lapinette and she waved at Skratch's heads. The Wabbit shrugged. "Maybe three heads are better than one ..."
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
2. The Wabbit and the Sadness of War
Wabsworth and the Wabbit followed the soft haunting voice. "It's Lapinette! said Wabsworth. "What is that song?" "Shhh," said the Wabbit. They listened. Wabsworth touched the Wabbit gently. "La Locomotiva," said the Wabbit finally. He looked up and down the rows of anonymous graves and with a sad shake of his head, he murmured, "the flowers of the forest are a weed awa'." Wabsworth decided to stay quiet but he studied the scene. Then he spoke. "Are we are in Lapinette's dream - or is she in ours?" The Wabbit was entirely uncertain. "Should we disturb her?" whispered Wabsworth. The sun filtered through the trees and shadows sharpened. Suddenly Lapinette turned. "How did you get here?" "You're dreaming," said the Wabbit. Lapinette scrutinised them both from head to toe. "You look real enough to me." The Wabbit smiled pleasantly. "Look at your paws." Lapinette gazed down. She could see through them, so she reached out and gingerly touched a gravestone. Her paw passed through it as if it was air. But the more she stared, the more substantial her paws became. Eventually she was solid. The Wabbit sighed with relief and explained. "I came though a green door into Wabsworth's dream routine." Lapinette was pleased to be opaque and became chirpy. "Is it possible we're in a collective dream?" "A collective dream is a movie," said a grave voice ...
[La Locomotiva: revolutionary song about a train driver by Francesco Guccini
Flowers of the Forest: Ancient Scottish bagpipe tune commemorating the Battle of Flodden]
[La Locomotiva: revolutionary song about a train driver by Francesco Guccini
Flowers of the Forest: Ancient Scottish bagpipe tune commemorating the Battle of Flodden]
Monday, January 11, 2016
1. The Wabbit behind the Green Door
Wabsworth, the Wabbit's android double, was dreaming for the very first time and found himself hopping in a quiet graveyard. He felt a peace he had never experienced and was smiling to himself, when he heard the crunch of gravel. "Wabbit!" sighed Wabsworth. "What on earth are you doing here?" The Wabbit materialised and waved tentatively. "I'm afraid I broke in." He noticed Wabsworth's quizzical look and shrugged. "I broke in through the green door." A few translucent leaves fell. "You're in my dream," said Wabsworth, "and my dream doesn't have a green door." The Wabbit shook his head and held up a paw. "I scraped my paw and it's green and it hurts. So this can't be your dream." "I didn't dream a green door," insisted Wabsworth. The Wabbit ignored this and looked around at names on gravestones. Some of them he knew had passed on and he felt sorry. Then he spotted a few who hadn't but he rather wished they had. The Wabbit puzzled a bit then addressed Wabsworth. "I came through a door from the street." Wabsworth rummaged under his fur to switch off his dream. But nothing happened. Wabsworth's teeth set rigid. The Wabbit took pity. "Well since we're here, we'll have a look around." Wabsworth's face lit up. "It's well tended, maybe there's a caretaker." The sound of footsteps on gravel broke the silence and the Wabbit grabbed Wabsworth's shoulder. "We'll take cover and watch." Then they heard a familiar voice ...
Wednesday, January 06, 2016
The Wabbit and Boredom
The Wabbit hunched in front of his favourite door. The sign said it was a school, but he had never seen anyone go in or out. So if he was bored he would stand in the street and wonder about it. "What's really behind the green door?" he thought. This kept him occupied for a full five minutes until he got restless. He stomped his feet a little. The Wabbit was between missions, a place he didn't like to be. He preferred to be in the thick of things, not the thin of things. No creature he knew got as bored as he. They all went on vacation or pursued a favourite hobby. Wabsworth his android double liked to bathe in a spa in the hills and return smelling of sulphur. Lapinette went to the furdressers and it took all day, sometimes two. Skratch the Cat attended week long movie marathons and emerged blinking through rectangular eyes. That wasn't to say the Wabbit hadn't tried. He'd taken up several pastimes, few of which had been successful. His jigsaws always missed a vital piece which he later found clinging to his fur. In an attempt at a giant collage, he found himself permanently glued to a table. His sallies into motor sport did, however, meet with success. But they were usually marred by some incident. In a cross country motorcycle trial he was well ahead but pitched into a hole with his scrambler on top of him. There he remained for some time until spotted. The Wabbit thought and thought and thought. Then it came to him in a flash. "Thinking is a hobby!"
Monday, January 04, 2016
The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè
"Here it is!" Lapinette was delighted with her new find. The Wabbit grinned a lopsided grin. "But there's Wabsworth in your new caffè." Lapinette sighed. "You can't keep anything a secret," A red reflection glistened momentarily in the wet street and a loud purr announced Skratch the Cat. "What a pleasant surprise!" he meowed, "I was going to visit the cats of Rome. But I can do that tomorrow." The Wabbit gestured for prosecco and tramezzini all round. Wabsworth rose for Lapinette to take a seat and turned to Skratch. "What was that for a kind of adventure?" Skratch warmed his paws. "I've been thinking about it," he purred. "It was a reconstructivist post modernism, which transcended iconic representation." Lapinette hid a smirk and sat down. "Archetypal revisioning," she said firmly. Now the Wabbit sat down and shrugged. "I thought it was about movies." "Quite right," said Wabsworth, "a post-ecodical trauma unfolded." "With us in it," smiled Skratch. "Can you dig it?" repeated the Wabbit. "Diggin' dystopia?" laughed Lapinette. "Sounds like a possible musical," murmured Skratch and he made a note in his fur. The Wabbit's tummy rumbled loudly so Lapinette handed him a sandwich. "Thanks," said the Wabbit, rubbing his stomach. "I seem to have to have a touch of dystopia."
[tramezzino: a triangular sandwich in Italy, From tra (between) and mezzo (middle)]
[tramezzino: a triangular sandwich in Italy, From tra (between) and mezzo (middle)]