The Wabbit and Lapinette speeded to their winter retreat out on the Po Delta. There they would make plans to counter the alien pizzas. The Wabbit hurled the jeep along an icy road and muttered about the Devil's Elbow in Scotland. Lapinette clung on and grinned ear to ear. "What's that?" muttered the Wabbit. A garish disc flashed past on the driver's side. Another followed it on the passenger side. The discs emitted a whining sound, a bit like a pierced haggis. Lapinette looked back. They disappeared into the trees then whirled back. "I think they beat us to it," growled Lapinette. "They just can't be topped?" smirked the Wabbit. He put his foot to the floor and the jeep slalomed along the ice. The pizzas faded into the distance. Lapinette tapped the windshield. "Where do you think they're they from?" The Wabbit thought for a minute. "The Coma Cluster is far away." The jeep hit snow and the sound was like a dog crunching biscuits. The Wabbit changed gear and sped on. "Maybe they came out a black hole?" suggested Lapinette. "A black hole in a black sock?" quipped the Wabbit. Two more pizzas dived out the sky and skimmed along the treetops. They were muddy red with a dull green trim. "That one's called Basil!" sneered Lapinette. "And the other one's Tom," said the Wabbit. Lapinette snorted. "They want a piece of us." "But we won't deliver," laughed the Wabbit ...
