The Wabbit gets a Surprise

The Wabbit skidded around the door and screeched to a halt in a manner that was very un-hospital like, especially for early in the morning. He had heard a voice that he knew well. His fur prickled all over and his ears stood bolt upright like a Belgian wabbit. It was the sweet voice of Lovely Lapinette, his beloved. “Hello Wabbit” The Wabbit gazed up from the bottom of the bed and Lapinette’s face appeared over her notes. “What took you so long?” said Lapinette. The Wabbit was aghast. “Train, bus, plane, helichopper!” The Wabbit blustered and gasped and puffed and panted. He hopped up onto the bed against all hospital instructions, dropped all the supplies on the bed in an untidy heap and butted Lapinette's nose in a loving but over-forceful fashion. “What are you doing here? No one tells the Wabbit anything!” "I'm sorry It's all a bit of an enigma," said Lapinette. The Wabbit did not like enigmas. "There was some misunderstanding," continued Lapinette. The Wabbit was quite well acquainted with misunderstandings since his own could be quite oceanic in scale. He sat back and watched Lapinette wrinkle her cute nose. "All will become clear," she said mysteriously. The Wabbit somehow doubted that and concentrated instead on Lapinette's ears which he found quite enticing ...

The Wabbit and the Surgical Vending Machine

The Wabbbit rounded the corner with a turn of speed and there it was. The Wabbit knew - because there was a picture of it in his papers. He had never seen a surgical vending machine before and he stood to the side in case it spoke to him. There seem to be no end to the number of things that spoke to the Wabbit. He took some extra time to look at his extra special list which was entitled "Medical consumables" and read it out loud to himself . "Gauze bandage, surgical dressing, white, tasteless, soft, strong absorbency, ventilated well." The Wabbit looked up. It was rather specific but there it was at number B7. Suddenly a robotic voice spoke. "Please make your selection. Place your coins in the slot and wait patiently. Your surgical dressings will arrive in due course in the space below." "Maybe they will," thought the Wabbit. Engaging his special ears, he hovered and deftly flicked the requisite number of coins into the slot. Before he had reached the floor, there was a rickety rumbling and a dull thud as a package arrived in a glass screened cabinet. "Mind your paws," said another voice. The Wabbit turned to find himself addressed by a white-uniformed medic. "He can be well tricky that one." The Wabbit carefully prised the package from the space and crept silently backwards, one paw at a time, until he was out of sight.

The Wabbit proceeds from the Landing Pad

The Wabbit emerged from the door of the helichopper. His legs were shaking and his 28 teeth were chattering so much that he could barely hear his pilot, Franco Contadino. “Don’t forget the importantly important package. Sir! Gotta go, sir. Incoming injured, sir.” The Wabbit turned, chattering and muttering through his teeth. “I think I might be the incoming injured, Franco.” He looked at the package. There was always another package and this time he had to tuck it under his fur. It was bigger than usual and it stuck out. “It’s about time they thought about my fur,” grumbled the Wabbit. The Wabbit scanned his papers and hopped towards the hospital building. Inside, he scrambled amongst the feet of doctors and nurses and dodged the wheelchairs of patients who’s limbs stuck out at peculiar angles. “At least only my package sticks out,” thought the Wabbit, feeling a little sorry for his fellow mammals. He kept to the ground floor where he was to pick something up. “It’s always the same story,” thought the Wabbit. “Go here, go there, pick this up, deliver it wherever.” But secretly, the Wabbit enjoyed all these things he complained about and his mood quickly changed. So as he hopped to the supply room, as instructed, he found himself humming a ditty that he had made up himself. “I’m bringing news from nowhere, together with other stuff. I got rather fancy ears and a heart full of love.” The Wabbit was so delighted with his silliness that he nearly missed the supply room door.

The Wabbit experiences Turbulence

The Wabbit was always saying he couldn't be surprised. "I have seen it all," he would say prissily. "And I am seldom if ever impressed." This was quite untrue as the Wabbit well knew. The Wabbit had been whisked away again and this time he was astonished. In any case, he was getting tired of being whisked at short notice. His teeth chattered and his bones vibrated as he looked out and down at a city he vaguely recognised. "This helichopper business is all very well," shouted the Wabbit to himself. As usual, the Wabbit's military slang was hopeless. "If that's Turin, I could have come here on the Big Red Train." The Wabbit was screaming now as he felt his already sensitive stomach drop, then lift again, then drop. What hadn't been a surprise was for the Wabbit to see Franco Contadino at the controls of the helichopper. The Wabbit shouted at the top of his voice. "Franco! Less vibration. This feels like a rusty egg beater." "Sir! It's the turbulence, Sir! Never had a flight round here without turbulence." The Wabbit saw the landing pad loom rapidly into sight and as he poked Franco with his paw, he could barely hear his pilot's voice. "Brace for impact Sir! I mean prepare for landing, Sir!" The Wabbit covered both eyes with both paws and fell silent.

The Wabbit in Transit

The Wabbit had disembarked from the plane feeling rather floaty. The aircraft had flown round and round in circles, whilst the Wabbit was plied with salad sandwiches and copious quantities of carrot juice. He had been surprised when he found he was the only passenger on the plane but he had used the opportunity to hop up and down the aisle and look in all corners. Then he looked at all the literature behind the nets on the back of the seats. When the novelty wore off he snoozed and slumbered until eventually the plane landed with a bump and came to a standstill. At his temporary destination, the arrivals board indicated that the Wabbit had been delayed. Yet the Wabbit knew there had been no delay whatsoever. In any case, no-one was likely to meet him, because he had been told to go immediately without hesitation to the Transfer Lounge and await instructions. He hoped there would be no more hospitality there and when he hoped that hope, his Wabbit stomach began to revolve, then churn. The Wabbit could only take so much uncertainty. He made his way to the Transfer Lounge with a grumbling, noisy tummy and as the Wabbit hopped, his fellow passengers turned around to locate the source of the weird sounds.

The Wabbit is whisked Through

The Wabbit sat on the terminal bus to the aircraft. And as he headed out he couldn't help noticing his likeness on the tailplane. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. On the other hand, there had been a most odd occurrence in the terminal. The Wabbit had presented his documents and his bag in the normal fashion. Then, all of a sudden two burly attendants had appeared on either side and whisked him away. "Through here, Mr Wabbit. Everything is taken care of!" The Wabbit had pondered as he was quickly whisked. "Is it indeed? Is it really?" He had thought that perhaps some special arrangement must have been made to ensure his speedy return. "Here are your new travel documents," said the right hand whisker. The Wabbit had read them. "But they're for home back to to here." He recalled exclaiming this rather loudly. "Exactly Mr Wabbit." The Wabbit had put a paw to his head in exasperation. "Well, couldn't I just stay here, instead of going home and then coming back," The burly attendant smiled. "That's not the way it works Mr Wabbit, not the way it works at all. How would you know you had been if you hadn't gone?" The Wabbit remembered shaking his head. On the other hand, he had thought it would be nice to just relax, order a salad sandwich. snooze a bit. "This way Mr Wabbit." The attendant had then cleared the way. "Make way for Mr Wabbit. Stand aside for the Wabbit." The Wabbit cringed at the thought as he looked at through the window at the plane. It had its benefits, he thought. But sometimes it was hard to be a Wabbit.

Lovely Lapinette thinks about The Wabbit

The Lovely Lapinette had fallen to wondering about her beloved, the Wabbit. He was probably far away but then again, this mightn't be so. Their missions and adventures meant they were often apart. But sometimes they had been only a few hops distance from each other and had not known. "Oh I hope he's not getting into any particular trouble," thought Lapinette. A voice in her head advised her that in all likelihood the Wabbit was talking philosophy to someone on a bus. Lapinette agreed with the voice. That would be the Wabbit. But she knew he could get into scrapes. Once she had been forced to rescue him from a left luggage locker at the railway station. He had locked himself up in a well meaning, complex but ultimately doomed plan to catch a notable burglar. Lapinette remembered the look on his face when she levered open the door and he hopped out. She couldn't help giggling. Then sometimes the Wabbit would say, "Hang on a minute, I've got a great idea!" Lapinette knew that often it was great but she was cute enough to realise when it wasn't. Lapinette sighed. She wondered if she should contact him again on his communication device but decided against. The Wabbit would be in touch in due course.

The Wabbit is philosophical on the Airport Bus

The Wabbit was on the bus to the airport and felt at a loose end. For preference he liked to hop just behind the driver because then he felt in control of the bus and this helped him to be a more relaxed wabbit. So the Wabbit began playing one of his favourite games for passing the time. It was a game in which he would make an alphabetical list of world literature featuring wabbits. He started as usual with Alice in Wonderland but had only got to Br'er Wabbit when a voice disturbed him. "Where are you off to, Wabbit?" "I'm not supposed to talk to the driver," said the Wabbit. "Rule doesn't apply to wabbits," replied the driver. The Wabbit was a little evasive. "I am going to the airport." "Yes, said the driver. I meant in a Quo Vadis kind of way." He paused. "Well, where do you come from?" The Wabbit really wanted to rest but decided to ask the driver a question. "Do you believe in time travel?" The Wabbit relaxed and sat back and waited. There was no reply. The Wabbit grinned broadly with all of his 28 teeth. "In a close universe perhaps I am the bus driver and you are the Wabbit." The bus driver laughed and drove in quiet contemplation for the rest of the journey. Then he helped the Wabbit from the bus, lifting down his small bag. He looked at the Wabbit with affection. "Goodbye, Wabbit. Don't stay away too long." The Wabbit smiled and was gone, lost amongst the cases and trolleys.

The Wabbit dreams of Lovely Lapinette

The Wabbit's sleep lasted a long time. It was a sleep so deep that he dreamt of many things. He dreamt of buses and trains and planes and goddesses and faceless statues. Oh, how the images whirled around in his head. And his legs kept running, running, running without stopping. Tinny voices echoed. "Here are your orders!" "Expedite them, without delay!" "Have a Lagomorph Lager," said another. "Here is your Loyalty Card. Come again soon!" Then the round face of Thoth loomed and boomed and exclaimed, "Jolly Good, Jolly Good. Thrice Good!" And a skeleton finger drew a rag and a bone and a hank of hair in the desert sand. The Wabbit's legs twitched frantically and he made small growling noises. The images gradually faded. Then suddenly in the dream the Wabbit saw his beloved, the Lovely Lapinette. He dreamt that she had fallen into the hands of the sinister agents of Rabit and that they had demanded a King's ransom for her return. Suddenly he was there amongst them, fighting back to back with Lapinette as they felled the evil agents with pieces of pointed carrot and celery. And throughout the frantic struggle, the tough voice of Bodyguard, Franco Contadino yelled "Sir! Round em' up? Sir!" All at once the battle was over. And in the dream, Lovely Lapinette and the Wabbit sat on their hind legs and were speedily served a wonderful picnic by the Goddess, Unut the Swift One. The Wabbit awoke with a start! His communication device had fallen out of his bag and was flashing for the first time. He picked it up with both paws and the face of Lovely Lapinette swam in to view. "Ciao Bello!", she said with a dangerous smile. "I hope your not getting into any trouble?" "Not me," said the Wabbit with the special voice he reserved only for Lapinette. "It's a little too quiet around here for me."

The Wabbit in the dark basement of the Goddesses

It wasn't hard for the Wabbit to see in the dark basement, coming from a great line of wabbits of a nocturnal disposition. "Looks more like a lion than a wabbit," thought the Wabbit. But as usual he felt disinclined to point it out. "If you knew what I knew, Wabbit, your fur would stand on end." The Wabbit's fur stood on end anyway. The voice was beguiling and silky smooth. "First there were the tomb robbers, then the merchants, then the so-called archaeologists. They were the worst. Bones everywhere." The Wabbit thought he could hear a little sob as the Goddess continued. "In here, in this ancient sarcophagus, lives Unut, Wabbit Goddess. They call me The Swift One." The Wabbit responded with respectful tone. "I have brought the ... stuff, Your Swiftness," said the Wabbit. "Now I will be complete," said Unut. "Come Wabbit, jump up and sit on my head. It will be like old times." Up jumped the Wabbit and took the rag, the bone and the hank of hair from his bag. In an instant they dissolved and all that was left was a little sand. "Oooh," thought the Wabbit. Unut spoke once more. "Thank you Wabbit, your mission is complete. And I am somewhat in your debt. You may request an audience with me at any time." Thank you Your Swiftness," said the Wabbit. But there was silence. Even though her eyes were completely open, she was most definitely in a deep wabbit sleep. The Wabbit detached from her head with some difficulty and as he did so, his paws made soft plopping noises. The Wabbit felt a sense of loss. He slid down the sarcophagus and flopped on the floor of the basement. Then he too fell deeply asleep.

The Wabbit is admitted by Thoth, Three Times Great

The strange force pulling the Wabbit stopped without warning and he found himself staring up at a giant figure. "That looks a bit like a baboon," thought the Wabbit, but he was much too polite to say so. Then the figure spoke. "I am Thoth. Three Times Great." Thoth paused for what seemed like an eternity. Then again his booming voice echoed through the long corridors of the old museum."Great Great Great!" The Wabbits ears went quite flat as the thunderous voice swirled around him. "OK, all right," thought the Wabbit, but he decided to err on the side of courtesy. "Your Thrice Greatness, I seek the Standing Goddesses." "Yes Wabbit, my Good Fellow," said Thoth. "Jolly Good. Just sign here." A long and complicated form appeared in front of the Wabbit and it was written entirely in heiroglyphics. The Wabbit had not the faintest clue but he had come a long way so he made his wabbit signature. Thoth continued. " ... and here and here and turn over and sign there. And now the date and the place, Museo Egizio." Thoth stamped the form three times greatly with three great thuds. Suddenly he towered over the Wabbit and his voice no longer boomed. It was impossibly low. So low that the Wabbit had to strain his ears forward. "Do you have the stuff?" The Wabbit noddded his head. "Jolly Good!" said Thoth as he lightly touched the Wabbit. The Wabbit's paws went completely limp and he felt himself falling, falling - into the depths of a darkened basement.

The Wabbit finds the entrance to the Egyptian Museum

The Wabbit set off in search of the Egyptian Museum, hopping under the lengthy porticos to keep out the rain. But the cobbled streets frustrated his paws. So he cartwheeled a bit and sang a little song to keep up his spirits. "This wheel's on fire. rolling down the roadway, better notify my next of kin ..." Suddenly, the Wabbit was brought up short. "This is the place all right," thought the Wabbit. "It's a facsimile, a reconstruction but a standing statue nonetheless. I have reached my destination." The Wabbit checked his bag just to see if the important objects were all in place and was about to proceed to the door, when he felt the most peculiar sensation. He was being pulled by an unknown force towards the entrance. And as his paws slid across the slippery cobbles he could hear a voice and it was a distinctive Cockney voice that stood out. He was saying something familiar. "Just go in Wabbit. You don't ''ave to 'ave me blow the door off for you, do you?" "I just didn't hear that," thought the Wabbit. With little choice, he headed inside.

The Wabbit looks out from a High Place

The Wabbit looked out over the Turin skyline. He thought that if he went to a high place he could see everything there was to see. The top of the film museum was a long way up and even with his powerful new ears, the Wabbit held on to the railings with both paws. Somewhere out there was the place of the Goddesses where the Wabbit was to deliver his importantly important objects. It was a lot of space to cover, even for the Wabbit. "Home of the Standing Goddesses, Home of the Standing Goddesses. Where could that possibly be, I wonder," wondered the Wabbit. "I'll just keep looking and perhaps I'll spot it." The Wabbit hopped between the feet of the crowds of school children who streamed out of the giant lift. "Standing Goddesses," murmured the Wabbit again, rather quietly to himself. "You're in the wrong museum, Wabbit". The voice of the lift attendant broke into the Wabbit's thoughts. "The Wabbit hopped up to the lift. "What museum?" "The Egyptian Museum of course. It's the only museum that has Goddesses around here." The Wabbit looked back across the city. "It's quite a hop, but worth it." said the attendant. "They might let you in free, what with you being a wabbit." The Wabbit was very pleased. He would not have to use his emergency coin. So the Wabbit hopped into the lift and shut his eyes very tightly indeed as the lift hurtled downwards at speed.

The Wabbit gets a Surprise Meal

The Wabbit was definitely hungry. He had hopped all around and the extra items in his bag had not made it any lighter. “I have too much baggage,” said the Wabbit sagely to himself. With some time on his paws, he was nearing the Big Railway Station. So he wandered into the back streets, to an area that had been recommended by his friend Antiqicat on a previous trip. He soon found himself in the Ghetto di Roma. “This is a very interesting place,” thought the Wabbit. “And the food smells delicious.” So he hopped on a fence for a better look and an even better sniff. The Wabbit could smell heavenly artichokes and his very favourite sliced carrots. “Gnam, gnam,” thought the Wabbit. Then the Wabbit heard a voice and murmured to himself, “Where’s that voice coming from?” He was always asking himself questions. “The kitchen, Wabbit.” The Wabbit didn’t think he had spoken out loud. “People can even hear me think now," thought the Wabbit. “Time for a snack,” said the voice. “I’ll bring something out. I have wafer thin strips of artichokes with side tubers, your favourite carrot strips on a bed of grass and some fresh water.” The Wabbit sat on the fence and tucked in. And what he didn’t eat, he tucked away in the small space that was left in his bag. Sated, the Wabbit hopped to the station and quietly boarded the train for Turin.

The Wabbit encounters the poorly constructed Graffito

The Wabbit headed up the road at speed. With his bag of importantly important items on his back and wearing a toothsome grin, he gazed all around. He looked up and down and to each side to take in all his surroundings, because that was the way of the Wabbit. But then his eyes caught something that brought the Wabbit to a screeching halt. The Wabbit's exclamation was loud and echoed from the walls. “What is this blot on the escutcheon?” He had never been very sure what an escutcheon was, but he assumed it was something good, since it could be blotted. The Wabbit read to himself aloud. “Rabbit Racist” Then he repeated it and shook his head that there could be such a thing. The Wabbit welcomed all mammals irrespectively, unless they wished him some particular malice. He paced up and down and up and down, fretting and his back paws made a staccato sound on the road. It was only when he found himself complaining about the misplaced quotation marks that he realised the graffito didn’t say “Racist”. It said “Resist”. “Now that makes more sense,” said the Wabbit to himself. “But it should really end with an exclamation mark!” The Wabbit then made the appropriate correction with a red emergency marker that he kept in his bag - and loped onwards before anyone saw it was him.