"What are you up to Wabbit?" The Wabbit was fed up with waiting and took himself around the gallery. He was passing a famous sculpture that the Wabbit always called The Woman in the Window, but she was really known as Tuccia. "Nothing!" said the Wabbit cheerfully. "I've been watching you, Wabbit and you're definitely up to something." The Wabbit came clean. "I've been commissioned by the museum to see if visitors really know what they're talking about." Tuccia inclined her head. "Not many then." The Wabbit grinned. "I myself became a work of art in the process." "You think you're Ripley," said Tuccia. "From Alien?" questioned the Wabbit. "From Patricia Highsmith," smiled Tuccia. "As you well know, Wabbit." The Wabbit stuck his paws in his fur and shrugged. Now they heard voices from afar and the Wabbit went tense. "Are they looking for my image?" Tuccia listened. "Yes, and they're coming this way." They both froze. "Here he is," said an onlooker. "It's a moving exhibit. It's a miracle!" The Wabbit groaned. "I heard him," they yelled, "I heard him!" The onlookers were shouting with wild abandon. "Have some decorum," frowned Tuccia. "She speaks too," yelled the crowd, "A double miracle." The Wabbit was fed up. He addressed the gathering. "A miracle is primarily a Christian concept. But you can make us an offering." Tuccia laughed. "Go to the bar and get two glasses of prosecco."
