6. The Wabbit and the Change of Plan

The Wabbit and Lapinette sat down at a beer crate to discuss a change of plan. The Wabbit said that Lapinette’s plan wouldn’t work because the creatures were too bright. Lapinette said that she could persuade them with feminine guile. The Wabbit responded by saying that usually worked, but in this case the Slifts were impervious. Lapinette asked why. The Wabbit argued that where matters of profit were concerned, only one thing worked. Lapinette rapped the crate with a paw and asked what that could possibly be. The Wabbit shrugged. "Force," he said emphatically and he hit the crate so hard that it shook and bits fell off. Lapinette sighed. "What do I have to do?" she asked. The Wabbit advised Lapinette that she should stick to the first part of her plan, but to raise the price of the fake fur to an unimaginable level. "What will you do?" she asked. The Wabbit shrugged again. "I will make any alternative impossible."  "The Slifts won’t like it," said Lapinette. The Wabbit drew back his lips and 28 teeth sparkled in a shaft of light that sliced through a hole in the roof. "Rock the Kasbah," said the Wabbit.

5. The Wabbit and Livestock Exchange

The Wabbit couldn't do a thing. Dragged into a stockyard shed, he found himself staring into the muzzle of Lapinette's automatic. He was seldom lost for words, but Lapinette made up for it. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was a whisper but it was really a yell. "You nearly blew my cover!" "Oh," said the Wabbit, weakly. "Your cover," he repeated inanely, nodding his head. He fumbled with his pistol and tucked it back into his fur. "I might need to change my plan!" hissed Lapinette. "Your plan," repeated the Wabbit. "Don't keep repeating me," yelled Lapinette. "Repeating?" The Wabbit's voice trailed off and he shrugged without enthusiasm. "Who are these creatures?" he asked in an attempt to be assertive. "And perhaps we should keep our voices down." "Slifts!" whispered Lapinette. "They're commodity skinners in the fur trade." The Wabbit flinched. "And where do you figure in all this?" "I'm posing as broker," said Lapinette, "and I persuaded them to buy a vast amount of dodgy faux stock that will glut the market." "Who'll buy livestock then?" said the Wabbit. "It'll cost the Slifts a fortune in fodder." "They'll bellow when they run out of Options," scowled Lapinette.

4. The Wabbit of the Stockyards

This looked like a stockyard to the Wabbit and his fur crawled. Something deep in his species memory scraped him with sharp claws and he shrank into a corner and pulled out his automatic. "I don’t like the smell of this," muttered the Wabbit and his nose twitched. He could smell rust and brick and wood, but there was another thing - something from the past. The odour became palpable. The smell of rubber hoses and drains, a damp smell like old gaiters long abandoned in a dank cellar. It was only then that he heard them. There were three and they floated a half metre above the cobblestones. The Wabbit’s ears pricked up and he strained to understand the short series of moans and crackles that hung in the air like ghostly static. He picked up single words. Packers, breeders, consignment, merchandise, livestock. His paw gripped his gun tightly as the spectral voices became clearer. "Ghastly business we’re in," said one, "I can hear the creatures bellow." "We meet demand," said the other. "It's not as if it’s us who eat them," said the last. The Wabbit's ears grew hot and he gritted his teeth. A hard object poked him in the ribs. He knew for sure it was the barrel of an automatic and it certainly wasn't his own. Then a voice. "Stay completely still and don’t move a hair."

3. The Wabbit and the Watching Brief

The Wabbit followed Lapinette closely and remained completely unobserved. As a secret agent, that was his job. At the same time, it was Lapinette’s job as a secret agent to spot him. But she seemed so intent on her journey that she didn’t seem to notice the Wabbit on her tail. He followed her all the way from the seaside and into an old industrial neighbourhood in the city. All this time, the Wabbit stayed a discreet distance behind while theories raced though his head. What on earth was her destination? "It might be another fashion show," thought the Wabbit. Perhaps she was going to meet a different kind of agent altogether - a fashion industry agent who pocketed 30 per cent of her vast earnings. The Wabbit considered and glanced around the area. It had seen better days and although it was under development, it didn’t seem like a fashion industry sort of place. But he remained icy calm and hopped quietly along the sidewalk in pursuit as Lapinette crossed the road to an old building. It looked like an abandoned railway station, but on closer inspection he reckoned it was a factory or a warehouse. The Wabbit stopped, looked for another way in and changed direction. "Uptight, out of sight," he hummed.

2. The Wabbit and the Fashion of Fur

It wasn’t difficult for the Wabbit to crash the event. With a paw over the date, he flashed his ancient press card and hopped across the beach. "I’ll never get the sand out of my fur," he grumbled. Worse was to come. Amidst much attention, Lapinette was modelling a strange garment. "It’s a fur coat," muttered the Wabbit with astonishment. The Wabbit knew several things. He knew Lapinette already had perfectly good fur. His fur could feel the beach was baking hot. And the campaign against the fur trade was dear to their hearts. He glanced up at a familiar sound to see Susan the Biplane trailing a fashion banner. The Wabbit flinched in the sun's glare. "I really am in the dark." So the Wabbit ignored the temperature, watched Lapinette strut the runway and had a think. He examined all the options. "Lapinette is up to something," he murmured, "and I’m going to get to the bottom of it." He was gripped by a flash of inspiration. "I have it!” thought the Wabbit. "Now what’s that thing models do – smize?” He fluttered his eyes and although he felt foolish, loped gracefully forward himself, raising his paws higher than was strictly necessary. "I can model my own fur and get on the inside," he grinned. "Then I won’t be in the dark." He heard a polite clapping. "Fur whom the bell tolls," he grinned.

1. The Wabbit and the Fashion Poster

One evening the Wabbit was out for a constitutional hop and that entailed stopping at several points en route for carrot aperitivi. As he hopped, he mused on old missions and smiled in a satisfactory manner, wondering what mysterious adventure life would throw him next. It was just getting dark as he rounded a corner into a favourite square that was to be his last port of call before he headed home. "What the binkie is going on?" he exclaimed. Several people looked around and seeing nothing but a rabbit looking at a poster, continued on their way. But the Wabbit stared and stared at the poster. "No-one told me anything about this!" he complained. "I am always kept completely in the dark." Now it wasn't at all true that the Wabbit was always kept in the dark. In fact, it was usually the Wabbit who kept others uninformed - sometimes under orders, sometimes for their own good and sometimes for entertainment. He considered for a moment. "Lapinette told me nothing of this, so perhaps it's meant to be a surprise." The Wabbit's eyes glinted. "I'm going to say nothing," he murmured, rummaging in his fur for ancient press credentials that were long out of date. "The surprise will be on Lapinette," he grinned.

The Wabbit at the Adventure Caffè

The Wabbits positioned themselves in a caffè outside a cinema and waited for Skratch the Cat to emerge. Then they pretended they didn't see him. "Hello!" cried Skratch. "Hello! I'm over here!" "Oh, hello Skratch," said the Wabbit, smiling. "What a surprise to see you here." Lapinette hid a giggle. "I was at the movies," said Skratch, "I viewed Infanzia Clandestina." "That's an interesting film," said Lapinette. "The violent scenes were filmed using cartoons." "It should have had an Oscar for that," said Skratch, "but we were excluded as usual." "It has already been done," said the Wabbit, "It was in the early jazz days when Louis Armstrong was in a cartoon." Skratch nodded in agreement. "It's a controversial area," he exclaimed. He paused and pointed. "What's that you have there?" "It's an ancient jazz album," said the Wabbit. "Can you play it?" asked Skratch. "I need a phonograph," smiled the Wabbit. "I know a market where we can get one," replied Skratch, "and by the way, that Blues Bat adventure was a fine example of music genre." The Wabbit grinned ear to ear. "Yes," continued Skratch, "you allowed the main character generous expression." "You sound like film programme notes," said the Wabbit. "I do it part time," laughed Skratch.

7. The Wabbit and the Bat's Blues

The Wabbit was as good as his word and coloured spotlights lit Bat Diddley as he took the stage. The Wabbit and Lovely Lapinette started to sway and their bat wings swung a rhythm of their own. "Wooooh," they sang. "Bat's Blues, wooooh!" Bat Diddley hopped forward on his cartridge feet, then spread his wings and sang in a deep smoky voice. "I'm a Blues Bat, baby. I get round fine at night." "Wooooh" sang the Batettes, "wooooh." "No time to hang around, baby," wailed Diddlley, "I make everything just right." He waved a wing to the Batettes and hopped to the side. "Just right," sang the Wabbit. "In the night," sang Lapinette. "Out of sight," sang the Wabbit. The Batettes swayed and shimmered in the lights as they spread their bat wings high. "I don't need no echo," sang Diddley, "'cos I can see you fine." "Fine, fine," sang Lapinette in the backgound. "I know your location, baby," sang Diddley, "and soon I'll make you mine." He waved his wings once more. "Mine, mine, mine, mine," sang the Wabbit and Lapinette. The music faded. "How did I do?" muttered Diddley. The Wabbit grinned a broad grin. "I see someone over there waving a cheque."

6. The Wabbit and the Colour of Sales

The Wabbit took Diddley the Vinyl Bat to a favourite wall, near a school in Via Genova. When Diddley saw it, he was ecstatic. "Oh I do like these colours," he exclaimed. "Excellent, aren't they?" said the Wabbit. "I want them for my collection," said Diddley. The Wabbit shook his head and jumped up and down. "Just take your time and appreciate the colours," he said, making a flouncy gesture with his paws. "Now Diddley, if you had your choice of colour what would be it be?" "Diamond," said Diddley immediately. The Wabbit smiled, because he felt he was making progress. "Have you thought of a back up colour?" asked Lapinette. "Platinum or gold," said Diddley. The Wabbit grinned a very big grin indeed, using all of his 28 teeth. "If you want those colours you need to have substantial recording sales," he said. "And if you want sales, you must promote yourself with a gig," said Lapinette. "I can get you a gig!" said the Wabbit. "With flashing lights?" asked Diddley. "I'll do my level best," said the Wabbit. "What about my Batettes?" asked Diddley. "I'll need at least two." "You have us!" said the Wabbit and Lapinette.

5. The Wabbit and the Bat's Choice

The Wabbit decided it was time to put colour to the test and persuaded Bat Diddley, the Vinyl Bat, to go with them to the market. "What lovely shirt colours!" said Diddley, "I must record them at once." The Wabbit shook his head. "You need to be in the moment, Diddley. What colour do you like?" "I like them all," said Diddley. "You have to choose," said Lapinette. Diddley rummaged on the stall without deciding. "I'll record the colours and choose later," he said. The Wabbit shook his head again. "You have to buy a shirt and keep it." "What about that red one?" said Diddley. "It's a little garish for your complexion," said the Wabbit and he steered Diddley across to a claret coloured shirt. Now Lapinette knew that was the colour of the Wabbit's favourite football team, but she decided to stay quiet. "That shirt has particularly excellent hue and tone," said the Wabbit in the manner of a disinterested expert. Lapinette smiled to herself. "Do you know, I think you're right," said Diddley, "it rather suits me." "Then what's it going to be?" asked Lapinette. "I'll take it!" cried Diddley. "This is only the start," grinned the Wabbit.

4. The Wabbit in the Kingdom of the Bat

The Wabbit and Lapinette found themselves transported to a large hall that was completely monochrome - except the colour from a panel of photographs. "Welcome to my Hall," said the large Vinyl Bat. "I do hope I didn't scare you." "Not at all, Mr ..." The Wabbit squinted at the Bat's label in search of a name. "Mr Diddley?" The Bat nodded. "Well Mr Diddley, I'm afraid you've been stealing our colour." Diddley the Vinyl Bat was horrified. "Borrowing!" he exclaimed, "The effect is only temporary. We put the colour back immediately" Lapinette tried to see her left eye without success, but the Wabbit peeked at his glasses and could see the blue had returned. "Then why are you borrowing colour?" he asked. "To record it," said the Vinyl Bat. "We're making a complete record of all the colours in existence." "On vinyl," said Lapinette. "On vinyl," said the Bat. The Wabbit considered. "I still don't get it," he murmured "A complete collection of colours will be available on vinyl," said the Bat in a loud, emphatic tone. He stared at the colours for a second and rotated slightly. Then with a click of his cartridge feet, Diddley the Vinyl Bat returned colour to the panel of photographs on the wall. "Oh," said the Wabbit, "that's groovy!"

3. The Wabbit and the Bat out of Hell

The Wabbit and Lovely Lapinette abandoned puzzling out the presence of vinyl bats and took the metro home. And as they hopped down the escalator, they talked about the bats and began to laugh as they batted the whole problem around. The Wabbit sang a few verses from Bat out of Hell but had to stop when Lapinette kicked him on the leg. "I'll be gone, gone, gone, ouch!" yelled the Wabbit. "You're bats in the belfry," giggled Lapinette. "I cant help it, it's my way," said the Wabbit and he held his paws up like wings. Lapinette held her paws up too and they hopped forward in unison. "Go, go, go with a smile!" sang the Wabbit and he hopped forward again. "Batdance! Do it! Keep bustin'!" chanted Lapinette and she hopped too. They hopped up and down and waved their wings and chortled. They were so enjoying themselves, they became quite oblivious to anything around. "I always ask that of all my prey," said a voice. The Wabbit and Lapinette stopped dead and looked at one another. "Did you sing that?" asked Lapinette. "Not guilty," said the Wabbit. He glanced over his shoulder and so did Lapinette. "Uh oh," they murmured.

2. The Wabbit and the Vinyl Bats

The Wabbit and Lovely Lapinette followed the bat and found themselves in a piazza just off Via San Francesco D'Assisi. "There are scores of them," said Lapinette, clutching her automatic. The Wabbit looked and thought hard. "There's something familiar about them," he replied and he pushed Lapinette's automatic away. "I don't think they're malicious." "But they seem to have taken the colour out of that building," said Lapinette. "It needed a clean," said the Wabbit. "No harm." They both looked up for a while, but nothing moved. "Are they asleep?" murmured Lapinette to herself. "You're the one with the bio acoustics certificate," said the Wabbit. "Do you want to give them a shout?" "In that position," stated Lapinette, "they can sleep and be ready to fly." "Then of course they do all that fluttering of wings and squealing," said the Wabbit.  Lapinette listened for a minute. "Can you hear that?" she asked. "I can," said the Wabbit and he angled his ears, swivelled them around and concentrated. "I can hear Jack Brenson and his Delta Cats," said the Wabbit. "That," scoffed Lapinette, "is Rocket 88 and it was really Ike Turner's band." The Wabbit stared at Lapinette. "You've been raiding my records!"

1. The Wabbit and the Colour Thief

The Wabbit and Lapinette jumped off the tram and were hopping across the bridge, when there was an occurrence. "Whoa!" said the Wabbit. "What?" said Lapinette. "That poster," said the Wabbit. "It flew off the bus and left only black and white." Lapinette glanced at the Wabbit. "And you're missing a frame from your super-glasses." The Wabbit touched his glasses. "No it's still here," he said. "But your left eye needs make up." Lapinette shrieked and pointed in horror. "The blue has gone from half your glasses!" "We're suffering a loss of colour," said the Wabbit. They both looked around and then up. Lapinette pointed. "It looks like colour theft. What on earth is that?" "It's some kind of bird," said the Wabbit. "Or a bat," said Lapinette. "Bats eat fruit or insects," said the Wabbit. "They don't eat colour." "It's not tasty," agreed Lapinette, shaking her head. The Wabbit tried to imagine how colour tasted then shook his head too. "In any case I thought bats were blind." "Quite the opposite," said Lapinette primly. Lapinette had a certificate in bio-ecology and acoustics, so the Wabbit quickly conceded. "Seeing is believing," he said.

The Wabbit and the Jazz University

Skratch the Cat met the Wabbit emerging from the university and fell alongside. "Hello, Wabbit where were you?" "Oh, hello Skratch," said the Wabbit, "I was just giving a talk on jazz and rabbits." "Really," replied Skratch, "can you give a whole lecture on that?" The Wabbit looked snooty. "Jazz," he said, "is the natural music of rabbits," and he left it at that, as if the statement alone was enough. "How so?" asked Skratch, inclining his head. "Rabbits appear and disappear at will," stated the Wabbit. "Now you see them, now you don't?" queried Skratch. The Wabbit nodded gravely. "And so it is with jazz," he said. "In jazz, there are notes that aren't really there and we rabbits lean on spaces that aren't there." "How do you know they aren't there?" asked Skratch. "Because we can't hear them or see them," said the Wabbit. Skratch's brain whirled. "They're ghosts!" said the Wabbit. "They don't exist as such -  we just imply them." "Oh I see!" said Skratch, without conviction. "Well, talking of things that aren't there, isn't it colourless around here?" "Do you know all theory is grey?" said the Wabbit. "You hum it and I'll join in," said Skratch.