The Wabbit and Lapinette emerged blinking from the cinema. The Wabbit had shown signs of enjoying himself and for that, Lapinette gave much thanks. "I do enjoy a good western," she chirruped. She quickly suggested an aperitivo at a caffè around the corner. There she could engage the Wabbit on an esoteric topic involving the iconography of cowboy hats. Lapinette admitted to herself that she had enjoyed Mann's Winchester '73. A rifle won in a contest had made a dark cinematic journey in which successive owners met a fate worse than the last. "Yes," said Lapinette, "it was bleak and moral and had an ironic circularity." The Wabbit half listened and agreed. But there was a reflection in his glasses that bore some familiarity and he kept an eye on it. "See anything unusual?" he murmured. Lapinette was amused. "These Hallowe'en promotions get earlier every year." The Wabbit relaxed. "I thought it was the Devil," he said. Lapinette looked at him shrewdly. "It's a new release where cowboy skeletons battle for the ranges." "Yippy aye oh," laughed the Wabbit. At that very moment a surge of hot breath blasted up the escalator. From a loudspeaker came the sound of a thousand steers thundering across the prairie. Then they heard a mournful voice intone. "Yippy aye yay. Yippy aye yay." "Is this a promotion?" asked the Wabbit. "I really don't think so," sighed Lapinette ...
