The Wabbit rushed Wabsworth to a quiet spot, but it was already happening. Wabsworth's chest opened and monstrous facsimiles scurried out. They came out small but didn't stay that way. And there were more and more. The Wabbit backed up to the wall and held up his paws. It was a way to buy time - and indeed, they stopped at once. It was then that the Wabbit had a bright idea. Wabsworth was his android copy and he knew his idiosyncracies better than any other being. "Environmental tourist tax!" he yelled, "each visitor counted separately." Curiously, all the creatures looked at the Wabbit and waited. "Discounts for smaller groups, less harm." The creatures began to merge. "If you fail to pay," shouted the Wabbit, "the matter will be referred." The creatures looked perplexed behind drooling faces. "Non payment is always referred to the Ministry for Revenge," continued the Wabbit cheerfully. He was mostly making it up - yet the Ministry for Revenge was real enough. No case ever brought to that bleak, foreboding edifice had been resolved in the lifetime of the plaintiff, but the creatures didn't know that and they shivered. "In the environment," shouted the Wabbit, "fewer tourists are less wear and tear." The copies gradually merged until there was only a single large creature standing. "May I inspect your licence to tour?" asked the Wabbit ...
