The team headed for Palombini's in EUR for their customary drink but were distracted by the market. "I didn't know there was a market here," said Wabsworth. "Every second Sunday," responded Lapinette. "I see a trader I know," remarked Wabsworth. "They go around," shrugged the Wabbit. The trader was a Calabrian with a special line in hot peppers that the Wabbit especially liked. They hopped a little farther. "Skratch, do the usual!" The Wabbit couldn't wait for Skratch to pronounce his special wisdom. "What was that for a special sort of adventure?" Skratch thrashed his tail. "It provided a means of commenting on society and its current mores. I'd say it does not fall into a genre." Lapinette grinned. "Maybe they all do. It's not new." Wabsworth wanted his word. "Strictly speaking they are folkways. Everyone agrees that they are so." The Wabbit groaned. "That doesn't mean they are. This was counter-hegemonic." Skratch hissed. "Counter hegemonic you say?" Lapinette was fast to offer her critique. "Perhaps the zombies as tourists do eat the flesh of society. Weighing down planes, polluting the atmosphere, using up any available accommodation. Turning our varied cuisine into pizza, pasta, tiramisu. They devour capacity and invert our world. Everyone carries two trolleys and does the same everything on the cheap." Skratch stepped back. "That's very sage, Lapinette." The Wabbit nodded his head. "Let's head to Palombini's." "What shall we have?" asked Wabsworth. "Prosecco Rosé?" quipped the Wabbit.
