On a rainy and windswept evening, the Wabbit and his team mustered at Campo de' Fiori. The rain had eased off a little, but the wet cobbles glistened with colour. The Wabbit hated getting wet so he agitated for a restaurant or even a Caffè to be chosen immediately. "Skratch isn't here yet," said Lapinette. "Yes I am!" meaowed Skratch. He'd approached from Via dei Baullari. He had an acquaintance there and so was a little late as usual. The rain dried up altogether and they stood chatting for a minute. Wabsworth posed the question. "What was that for a sort of adventure we just had?" Skratch leaned backwards as only a cat can do. "Typically, skeletons are connotationally regarded as untrustworthy, signifying obviously evil aspects such as death and decay." The Wabbit nodded. "But in this case the skeletons were a single entity, the Gashadokuro, further defined as bloodthirsty and dangerous." It started to drizzle again and the Wabbit shuddered. "I feel the problem with the Gashadokuro was that he represented a distorted death, his bones comprised soldiers who died on the battlefield but were never buried." Wabsworth nodded. "They fought honourably but were treated dishonourably," The Wabbit was getting wetter and was not impressed. "That was hardly our fault!" Lapinette knew all the Wabbit's foibles. "I suggest we go into one of these restaurants where it's dry." "And I can have a dry Martini," said the Wabbit. "As long as it's not watered down," laughed Skratch.
