The Wabbit lets it Snow

The little plane darted away from the spacecraft. "Oh since we've no place to go," sang the Wabbit. "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," trilled Ghost Bunny. The Wabbit settled back and relaxed. “The Alpini will be delighted," he said. "Will they go on the piste?" asked Ghost Bunny. "Most certainly," he grinned. "Why do they like snow so much?" said Ghost Bunny,"They like to ski down the slopes drinking flaming aperitivi," laughed the Wabbit. "Are they jolly?" asked Ghost Bunny. "Try and stop them!" said the Wabbit. There was a pause. "How did you come to be here, anyway?" he asked. "Just hitched a ride on a passing cloud," said Ghost Bunny. "Your wailing has much improved," said the Wabbit. "Yes, I've been in training." replied Ghost Bunny. "Who with?" enquired the Wabbit. "Lapinette," said Ghost Bunny. "Oh," said the Wabbit. There was a very long silence while the Wabbit tried to visualise the scene. "Where do you practice wailing?" asked the Wabbit. "At night in a deserted market off the Via Nizza," said Ghost Bunny, “I’ll show you." Suddenly she let off the most high-pitched wail and the Wabbit's ears flapped over and down the back of his head. "Don't you get into trouble?" said the Wabbit. "The Carabinieri usually arrive," murmured Ghost Bunny softly. "What then?" asked the Wabbit. “They sit in their car and eat panini," said Ghost Bunny. "Some things never change," said the Wabbit.

The Wabbit's Path is Blocked

The Wabbit had used all his slime ammunition mopping up the ice mice, so he casually slung his weapon over his shoulder and looked towards his plane and home. But the plane was surrounded by even more ice mice. The swarm of mice had blocked his path and he could see there was no direct way through. The Wabbit’s mind raced. "Should have gone to Machu Picchu," thought the Wabbit recalling his expert advisor. Then to his horror the Wabbit spotted a familiar cylinder and his heart sank. "The devils have my Silver Iodide," he groaned and his pulse quickened and he looked all round for another route. It was then that he heard it, a long moaning cry way up in the air. And the Wabbit's ears swung and pointed and stiffened and he swore to himself that he had never heard such a sweet sound. Ghost Bunny wailed as she came out of the sky like a missile and she dipped and dived sharply and moaned again. She hurtled towards the ice mice with a terrifying sound that chilled even the Wabbit's blood. As the Wabbit watched, he saw the mice gradually freeze rigid one after the other until they were like statues. The Wabbit smiled with all of his 28 teeth. "Any more party tricks?" asked the Wabbit. "I haven't even started," said Ghost Bunny and she fluttered down and smiled the most innocent smile a ghost wabbit could muster. "What shall we do now?" she murmured. "Dump the silver iodide and give these Alpini a break," said the Wabbit.

The Wabbit makes his own Luck

The Wabbit climbed up and through the surface hatch, loped several paces and then wheeled quickly around. Even with his special insulation, he could feel the cold air bite through his fur. He dusted his paws for good luck and reached for a blue canister from his waist belt. The canister made a soft snick as it locked into place and his emergency weapon emitted a high pitched whine that hung threateningly in the icy air. Suddenly, the ice mice tumbled through the hatch and rushed straight at the Wabbit in overwhelming number. The Wabbit ignored their menacing cries and fired his first round, unleashing a stream of viscous blue slime which fell all around the ice mice. They cried out with penetrating squeaks as their feet stuck to the slime and the slime stuck to anything there was to stick to. Even though the mice tried with all their might, they couldn't break free. "Thank you, Blue Snail," murmured the Wabbit mysteriously. "Turn it off, turn it off," shouted the mice as they tried to free their limbs, but the slime stuck them to any surface like glue. "It doesn't turn off," shouted the Wabbit, "It was a design option!" He ejected a blue canister and was about to load another when he looked down briefly. A stray ice mouse was grabbing for his ammunition, but it was a sitting duck. The Wabbit gave it a push that sent it tumbling into the widening blue pool. Then he hunched down and thought long and hard as he watched the captive mice. He clapped his paws together for warmth and tried to figure it out. "It only took a minute," thought the Wabbit. "That was too easy."

The Wabbit gets Dragged In

"Oh look what the ice brought in," squeaked a voice. "Riff raff," squeaked another. "The filters aren't working again," squeaked yet another. The Wabbit looked all around. He hadn't expected to materialise in quite such a disgruntled gathering. "You are the Ice Mice," said the Wabbit directly to the gathering. "You have the advantage of us," squeaked a senior ice mouse. "I am the Wabbit," said the Wabbit. "So what do you want with us humble ice mice, lagomorph?" asked the biggest ice mouse. "Small matter of snow and the lack thereof," said the Wabbit. "We're only doing our job," said an ice mouse. "You are placing our Alpine wabbits in grave difficulties. They cannot ski when they're on the piste," explained the Wabbit. "It's no concern of ours," said an ice mouse. "It is now," said the Wabbit. "We only take spare ice," moaned an ice mouse. "There is no such thing as spare ice," replied the Wabbit and held his paws over his ears as the ice mice squeaked pitifully. "I therefore insist that you leave these clouds with speed. Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once," said the Wabbit. One of the ice mice jumped forward and put its face directly in the face of the Wabbit. "And what if we don't?" he leered. "Well you've got to ask yourself one question," replied the Wabbit. "What's that?" spat the ice mouse. "Do I feel lucky?" smiled the Wabbit.

The Wabbit and the Big Green Thing

"Control do you read me? Over," said the Wabbit and then he said it again for good measure. The radio crackled. "Ground Control, Commander. What can we do for you?" "Do you have a manual of Unidentified Flying Things to hand," asked the Wabbit. "No Sir!" replied Ground Control. "Why not?" said the Wabbit sharply. "Not much call for it," said Ground Control. "Well I am reporting an Unidentified Flying Thing," said the Wabbit. "What do you think it is, Sir?" asked Ground Control. "If I knew, then it would be an Identified Flying Thing!" snapped the Wabbit. There was a sudden crash as the Wabbit lost altitude and he grappled with the controls and yelled. "Control, do you have an expert on Unidentified Thingies?" "He's on vacation," said Ground Control. "Find him," growled the Wabbit. "It would be useful if you could describe the thing, Sir." "Yes of course, before it drags me into its innards," muttered the Wabbit. "It's a Big Round Green Thing with a Pulling Everything Inside Thing attached, is that OK?" he said. "Patching you through to our expert in Machu Picchu," crackled Ground Control. "Machu Picchu," grumbled the Wabbit and he steadied the joystick as the plane shook violently. "Hello Commander," said a voice. "Enjoying your holidays?" asked the Wabbit through rattling teeth. "Yes, awfully nice. Good line isn't it? I can hear you so clearly," said the expert. "Grrr. I don't care, what am I supposed to do?" shouted the Wabbit. "Pray," said the expert.

The Wabbit Flies Out

As the Wabbit glanced down he could just make out Big Blue Snail. He dipped his wings twice in greeting and happily patted one of his blue canisters. Now the Wabbit was able to change course and he smiled to himself as he muffled his radio with a paw. "Major Tom to Ground Control," he whispered." The radio squawked and squealed and an angry voice said, "This isn't Lifegate Radio, Commander!" The radio squawked again and the Wabbit fiddled with the squelch control. "Patching you through McGarrett," said Control in a resigned tone. The Wabbit grinned as he heard Lapinette's voice. "Wabbit can you see anything?" asked Lapinette. "I saw Big Blue Snail," said the Wabbit. "Where are you then?" sighed Lapinette. "Over the Mole Antonelliana. Snail's on a picket of museums," said the Wabbit. "He needs to move on," said Lapinette. "And quickly," said the Wabbit. "Can you see the clouds the Alpine wabbits talked of." asked Lapinette. "Yes the clouds are a little strange," replied the Wabbit. "Alto cumulus?" said Lapinette. "They're my favourites," said the Wabbit, "but they're swirling up and down." "Then approach with stealth," said Lapinette. The Wabbit bent down and adjusted the propeller pitch. Then he expertly removed a circuit board from behind the instrument panel and threw it over his shoulder. "Setting a course in," said the Wabbit. "In bocca al lupo, bello," said Lapinette and then she was gone. The Wabbit thought for a minute. "Crepa," he murmured. "No amount of careful planning can beat pure luck."

In bocca al lupo. (In the mouth of the wolf) = Good luck. Crepa: = May the wolf die