Things were too much to handle so the Wabbit called a recess. Back at the safe garden, they enjoyed a well earned rest until the Alien Pilot arrived. He was being dragged along by a bunch of grapes and looked none too happy. "These are the Grapes of Wrath. They insisted on being heard," he said, He tried to shake them off but they held his hand fast. "We are the seedless grapes," they said; "We want our seeds back and we know you can help." The grapes spoke and moved as one. Their voices were tinny but with a sweet edge that was a little menacing. Stems quivered as they cried out for their lost seeds. "I will hear you," said Lapinette; "Tell me about the seeds." The grapes swayed back and forth and let out a mournful cry. "Greedy corporations took them for profit. Now we cannot propagate and re-fruit." The Alien Pilot freed himself from the grip of the grapes. "They can't rightly be considered fruit since they have no seeds within." "No seeds within," wailed the grapes:" "No seeds! What shall become of us?" They danced in rage and excreted small amounts of moisture. "I thought grapes were berries," murmured the Wabbit. "Don't you berry us," shouted the grapes; "We'd rather be raisins." "I'll programme you in then. For mediation," said Lapinette. "Will there be wine?" shouted the grapes.
