The trap was laid. The marks were set up. All the Wabbit and Lapinette needed from the Rabbits Foot Cult was gullibility. A knock came to the old unused door at the back of the building. The Wabbit answered. He led them in to a dark and dingy hall and up a flight of rickety stairs. Even the biggest of the Cult seemed nervous and his followers shook in their cloven hooves. The stairs cricked and creaked. "I don't like the dark," said one. "I don't like rickety stairs," said another. "Shut up," said the leader, "They said we'd be able to drink the blood of virgins." A follower moaned a long moan. "Don't they have anything else?" "You're supposed to be a Satanist!" yelled the leader, "You'll drink it and like it." The Wabbit and Lapinette beckoned them on. "Just a little bit now, not much farther." She scampered up a few more steps. "My hooves hurt," said a Satanist. "Don't worry. I promise you a black mass to remember," said the Wabbit. Lapinette was going to say it would be the party of a lifetime but she thought better of it. "This better be good," said the leader, "I cancelled an important Satanic engagement." "We have goat curry," smiled the Wabbit. "What about bats?" said a Satanic follower. "I hate bats!" said another. "Bats are off," shrugged the Wabbit. "Eek! What's that over there?" said another of the Cult. There was a crash as he stumbled on the stairs. "An in-house ghoul," said Lapinette ...
