The Wabbit called his opposite Wabsy on the radio; he had a funny feeling things weren't right. "Wabsy, have you got a Six?" Radio feedback moaned and whined. "Check your six," agreed Wabsy. The Wabbits grimaced and did what rabbits did best. They froze. They did not look round. They said not a word. The Six towered over them as the Wabbit tapped an emergency Morse message for Wabsworth's team further down the beach. .-- . .... .- ...- . .- --. .. .- -. - ... .. -..- Dots and dashes confirmed they were on their way. The Six spoke suddenly with a haunting tone. "I am the next number and I have come. I am the Sixth Force." Without turning, the Wabbit snapped. "What about the Fives?" The Six's ghastly laugh curled like smoke around the beach huts. "The Fives are as fake as talk show hosts." "No fives?" said Wabsy. "Just one two three four six," moaned the Six. "Then what about seven?" demanded the Wabbit. "Never heard of it," said Six. "And if there was a seven it would be deficient. I'm six. I'm perfect. I'm a cosmological constant." The Wabbit scowled and snarled. "You're past your prime." "How dare you!" said the Six. The Wabbit's super hearing indicated that Wabsworth's team was close - so he decided to annoy the Six some more. "You're just six of one and half a dozen of the other." The Six reared in fury and shouted. "Your days are numbered!"
[.-- . .... .- ...- . .- --. .. .- -. - ... .. -..- : Morse. "We have a giant Six"]
