The Wabbit was feeling jolly by the sea. Little did he know his team was following him. He jumped on and off the wall in merriment and glee. Lapinette was right behind him and so was everyone else. It was the day of the Artichoke Festival and they all felt full of beans. "Wabbit!" shouted Skratch. He was right at the back. "What was that for a sort of Adventure?" The Wabbit didn't move a hair of fur. He continued perambulating. But Lapinette could see there was a twitch of his ears. "Tell us O Great One, what adventure did you have on your own?" Wabsworth leaned in. "Tell us or we won't buy you a Prosecco!" Now the Wabbit looked back and smiled. "It was a cult phantasy concerning Nazis and Rats," he exclaimed. "Come, come, Wabbit," meaowed Skratch, "It was an attempt to engage with seriality." Lapinette bounced on and off the wall. "It was almost an extension of trans-medial narratology." Wabsworth scoffed. "It wasn't that innovative. You were a modern Arthurian knight, playing with the moral values of a time long gone." The Wabbit smiled. "Time has passed me by?" Everyone shouted, "And so shall we!" They all laughed. Skratch meaowed again. "What of this Spritz with fried artichokes?" The Wabbit rocked with mirth. "Fritto, fritto fritto!" Wabsworth looked at the sign. "It's a good price." Lapinette shook her head. "Thirteen euro inclusive? I've seen better." The Wabbit shrugged and put on a Sean Connery voice. "Itsh on the she front. Time for a shellabration!"
