5. The Wabbit and Popular Opinion

The Wabbit shook his head and in conjunction with Tuccia, he thought of an idea. He'd canvass the viewers opinions. He borrowed a clipboard and did exactly that. He left Caravaggio's painting with an astronaut he'd just met and persuaded him to reframe and remount the painting. Then he allowed visitors to file past. In total he spoke with 180 visitors. The results were fascinating. Four people thought the astronaut was Caravaggio. Around half were convinced the Caravaggio painting was a fake but were unable to say why. Some eighty visitors held that the painting was indeed the original, pointing to the detail and fine brushwork. Two visitors had seen other versions in various countries, but liked this one better. One visitor thought that this was a fine copy using scan technology. All the same, he made a bid of several million for it. One was unhappy about his children seeing it and covered their eyes with a brochure. Another eight preferred the picture of the Wabbit but despite enquiries, couldn't find it. The Wabbit promised everyone the final results, but knew that although they were interesting, they were unsatisfactory. "Needs more research," he said. The astronaut nodded. "The last exhibit got a prosecco." "Coming up," grinned the Wabbit - and he called the bar. 

4. The Wabbit and Tuccia in the Window

"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." 

3. The Wabbit becomes the Picture

The Wabbit's fur could hold many things. But when he took out the object out, it became the original size. He struggled a bit, but he was in the right room and no-one was about. He offered the painting up then slapped a paw to his head. It was back to front. With a bit of effort, he righted it then attached the fixings. Finally, it was on the wall. He stood back. It looked as if it had always been there. Someone was coming so he turned to look at a different painting. An attendant passed it by as if it had always been there and disappeared into another room. "Phew," gasped the Wabbit. Then more people arrived and gathered around. They looked the painting up and down and discussed its merits. Then one saw him. The Wabbit froze flat against a wall. "Early depiction of a wabbit," said the viewer. "Late sixteenth or early seventeenth century," nodded another. "Just look at the brushwork." The studied him for a while. "The work of one of Caravaggio's students?" suggested another. "Lovely blues, just look at the pigment," said yet another. They gazed for a while. "Let's view the others and come back" said the first. They moved on. The Wabbit saw his chance and crept quietly away. The viewers returned but the wabbit had gone. "It's been stolen," they gasped, "raise the alarm." A frenzy broke out, but the Wabbit was far off in the cafeteria, sipping a Prosecco and chuckling. But his plan was far from complete ... 

2. The Wabbit and the Stolen Painting

The Wabbit made a sudden dash for the door and down the stairs. He was too fast for the waiter. Tucked under his arm, the painting threatened to escape, but the Wabbit secured it and carried on. He could hear cries behind him but ignored them. He scurried round the entrance and back into the museum. A handy corner afforded him a hiding place. Museum staff came and went. He could hear them as they searched for a missing painting. "Where is it?" shouted an irate attendant. "It's Just Stop Oil up to one of their idiot pranks," shouted another. There was confusion. There was yelling. There was consternation. The Wabbit smiled and shrank further into the corner. "I'm an international art thief," he grinned. Sirens wailed outside. "I seem to have caused an incident," thought the Wabbit. He activated a switch under his fur and all but vanished. Voices became louder. "What's been stolen?" asked a policeman. "We're looking for it," said an attendant. "Looking for what?" said the policeman." The attendant shrugged. "We don't know, we just know it's missing." The policeman rocked back and forward on his heels. "What's it called?" The attendant shrugged. The Curator loomed into sight. "Nothing's missing. The entire museum has been searched. Nothing has gone at all." The Wabbit grinned. His plan was going well.  

1. The Wabbit and the Quick Hop Through

The Wabbit was having a hop through the Palazzo Barberini Museum. It was full of fantastic old pictures which he fully appreciated - so he'd told no-one otherwise his friends would give him chapter and verse. He especially liked Judith beheading Holofernes by Caravaggio - which he found a little horrific. "Theatrically lit," he murmured. Then he smiled. He found his way to the museum caffè, which was quite a grand affair. He looked up. "Solar panels?" he mused. "Most intriguing." He mentally placed the museum on his private list, then called for a prosecco. "Subito, Commander," said a waiter and indicated a seat. "No-one is supposed to know I'm here," said the Wabbit. "I won't tell a soul," replied the waiter. The Wabbit sat down. He felt peckish. "Do you have a salad club sandwich?" he asked. "Best in town," said the waiter. The sandwich was huge. He devoured it with gusto and beckoned for the waiter to return. "Did Caravaggio like sandwiches?" "Oh yes," replied the waiter, "especially artichoke panini." The Wabbit indicated he would like one. "It's called a Caravaggio Club," said the waiter. He brought one and another glass of prosecco. He paused. "Commander, about that painting poking out of your fur?" "My goodness," said the Wabbit. "I thought something was uncomfortable."

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The gang was on its way to one of the many Caffès in the shopping centre. Lapinette was in a good mood, and she bounded into the Wabbit's paws. "What was that for a sort of adventure?" she shouted. The Wabbit was in good humour too. "It was a mythical adventure, full of mystery." Lapinette was full of beans, and she yelled, "Our stories are the principle conduit of mythology today." Skratch meaowed long and hard. "That's a synoptic historical generalisation if ever there was one." Wabsworth laughed. "Symbolic?" "Skratch paused. "No, synoptic." The Wabbit looked cynical. "Are you referring to the gospels." Skratch was nonplussed. "I mean it as pulling things together into a common point of view." "Mathew, Mark, Luke and John," said Lapinette. "Haud the cuddy 'til ah get on," added the Wabbit. "Wabsworth giggled. "That was synoptic." Skratch considered. "I think I know what you mean. Herzog said we have no adequate images." Lapinette laughed again. "Warner Herzog ate his shoe." "Les Blanc was being disingenuous," said Skratch, "The production of your images, the Kelpie, demands new images. Otherwise extinction will occur, and the Kelpie will bring it." Lapinette's mouth fell open. The Wabbit interjected. "If I don't get a drink in a minute, we'll all be extinguished."

6. The Wabbit and up ride with the Kelpie

The Wabbit was returning home by boat and he thought it was all over. Kelpies were gone - as were Nessie and the Agents of the Wabbit. He congratulated himself on a job well done. He thought he'd continue down the Tiber as far as it went. But without warning one of the Kelpies appeared in ghostly form. It shimmered in a mist of its own making. "Want to ride on my back, Commander?" The Wabbit knew better and shook his head. But he smiled. "You were a good opponent, Kelpie. Now go back to the watery depths." The Kelpie shook his giant mane and sprayed water across the Wabbit. "You haven't seen the last of us. We can bide our time." The Wabbit grinned. "Bide on then." The Kelpie began to sink to the bottom of the lake until only small bubbles remained. But then he spotted turbulence and heard a groan and a whinny. The Wabbit knew the mythical creatures would return. He started to think. If he could make an alliance with the Agents of Rabit it could be the start of something bigger. The engines changed note and the boat increased speed. Soon he would be home. He leaned on the rail and sang a sea shanty - although he knew no seafarer in their right mind would sing one in these modern times. "Say goodbye to all your dear kin, for they hate to see you go. In your young prime to this place of mine. In the still loch far below."

[Up ride with the kelpie]