3. The Wabbit and the Awards Game

The Wabbit and Moloch caught up with Skratch at the cinema. He was doing something with a sign and Wabbit waved up to him. "He's caught up a post," said Moloch, "I'll help get him down." The Wabbit shook his head and shook with mirth. "He's a cat, Moloch. He needs no help." Nevertheless Moloch jumped up and shook the post with vigour. "It's OK Moloch," said Skratch, "I'm just repairing this sign. It was incorrectly signifying the signified." Moloch was disappointed. He'd always wanted to rescue a cat from a tree. Now he'd been deprived of his opportunity. "Let me know when you're coming down," he yelled. "I'll be sure to do that," purred Skratch. "Skratch, we need your advice," said the Wabbit. Skratch paused and rested his paws for a second. "Fire away," he said. "It's rather embarrassing," said the Wabbit. "I'm the most discreet cat I know," meaowed Skratch. The Wabbit began a long explanation. "I want to support Moloch and his Monster Show. In return he'll support my nomination for Rabbit of the Year." Skratch purred long and loud. "I'm not sure you're Rabbit of the Year material," he said. The Wabbit looked relieved. "I thought you might say it was unethical." "No-one cares about that," said Skratch, "it's all fixed in advance." The Wabbit didn't know what to say. Moloch said it for him. "I heard the Monster Show was the same." Skratch agreed vociferously. "I get invited to the Cat of the Town every year - but every year I decline." The Wabbit couldn't get his head round this. "Because there's a whopping fee," said Skratch, "and the prize always goes to some Felix or other. Who's in the Monster Show?"  "Godzilla," said Moloch. "Aha," said Skratch. He jumped down from the sign and shrugged. "Then I rest my case." 

2. The Wabbit and the Monster Show

The Wabbit spotted Moloch near Porta Palatino and hurried to catch him. But Moloch was standing stock still and talking into a microphone held by a camera crew from the state broadcaster, RAI. The Wabbit took little notice and strolled straight in front of them. He tapped Moloch lightly on the knee. "What's happening Moloch?" he yelled. The camera crew gave up at that juncture and Moloch looked down at the Wabbit. "Wabbit, you're interrupting my interview. Kindly desist." The Wabbit grinned and waved the camera crew away. "We'll come back later, Moloch when your friend is finished," said the journalist with a sigh. The Wabbit tapped Moloch on the knee again, "Spill the beans, Moloch!" Moloch's chest expanded. "I'm being interviewed for the Monster Show." The Wabbit was taken aback. "Why is there all this interest in the team?" he murmured." "What interest?" said Moloch. "I've been proposed for the Rabbit of the Year," said the Wabbit. "Oh really, I'm a judge for that but I'm not supposed to tell you," said Moloch. "Why not?" asked the Wabbit. "You might lobby me unfairly," replied Moloch. "Wouldn't dream of it," smirked the Wabbit. He thought for a minute. "You'll support me of course." Moloch was appalled. "I need to be absolutely fair," "It is fair," said the Wabbit, "I'm clearly the best contender. I support you for the Monster Show, you support me for the Rabbit of the Year." The Wabbit considered the matter a little more. "Let's take advice on the matter." "Who from?" asked Moloch. "Someone who know his way around these things," smirked the Wabbit. "Skratch the Cat?" smiled Moloch.

1. The Wabbit and the Wabbit of the Year

The Wabbit strolled back from his balcony at the Department of Wabbit Affairs. It was a mite chilly but warm in the sun and his fur felt good. All of a sudden, Lovely Lapinette poured herself through the door. "Wabbit, I have exciting news." The Wabbit waited to hear what it was. His definition of exciting was rather different from most people, but he smiled. "Lovely Lapinette, I wasn't expecting you!" Lapinette looked overjoyed. "You've been nominated for Rabbit of the Year!" The Wabbit secretly grimaced because he hated that sort of thing - and everything that went with it. "What are you going to wear?" shouted Lapinette with glee. The Wabbit had no hesitation. "My kilt," he shrugged.  Lapinette scowled. "The moths got it; you'll need a new one. And you need the whole outfit, sgian dubh the lot." The Wabbit grinned. "Don't worry, it's all wrapped in a protective cover in the back of the wardrobe." Lapinette was all cheerful again. "You'll need your fur trimmed." The Wabbit brushed his paws up and down his fur. He thought it looked OK, but he shrugged again. "Where is this Rabbit of the Year presentation?" Lapinette span round in a pirouette. "Location yet to be determined." "And the date?" continued the Wabbit. "Sometime next month," grinned Lapinette. The Wabbit breathed a sigh of relief. It all sounded a bit vague, so he had some time. Perhaps he would be called away urgently. He felt cheered. "What if I win?" he ventured. Lovely Lapinette gaped. "You? You're a normal brown rabbit, you'll never win. But there will be a gala dinner. Everyone that's anyone will be there." Now the Wabbit was miffed. "Is there anyone I know that's up for it." Lapinette shook her head. "It's all secret. No-one is supposed to know, so don't tell anyone." The Wabbit smiled a secret smile and Lapinette saw it. "Wabbit - don't you dare!"

The Wabbit at his Adventure Caffè

The team gathered at the Adventure Caffè and for once it was a proper coffee bar. The barista wore a mask since COVID flu had ravaged the land, but it didn't stop him making perfect coffees. This was the coffee bar in the Lavazza museum and they were looking forward to trying the new blend. "It's a good thing we're cartoons," said the Wabbit, "or we might get this flu as well." Camilla flounced a bit. "Oh never mind all that. Let's be cheerful." Wabsworth was watching the barista with interest and he spoke out the corner of his mouth. "Tell me Skratch. I was wondering what sort of adventure we just had." Skratch meaowed forcibly. "It was an open adventure." Lapinette looked sceptical. "By which you mean it didn't have a proper ending?" Skratch purred for a long time. "Hardly. The story wasn't sufficient to produce narrative irresolution or ambiguity." Wabsworth continued watching the coffee being made. "No, it wasn't a tactic for producing narrative delay. The ending was secure and systematic." Lapinette paused and looked at the Wabbit. "So. What did you do with these guys anyway?" The Wabbit smirked an evil smirk. "I sent them for severe chastisement." "That's very biblical," said Skratch. The Wabbit was highly amused. "No, I just boxed their ears and sent them on their way." Wabsworth was astonished. "Where did you deliver the box to?" "Not literally, Wabsworth," said Lapinette. The Wabbit reached under the table. "I have the ears here. In a box." "Eeek!" cried Lapinette. She buried her eyes in her paws. "Only joking," said the Wabbit. Skratch moaned, "Where's this coffee?"  Wabsworth leaned forward and tapped the barista on the shoulder. "Hurry up or this will never finish!"

8. The Wabbit and the Art Preview

Everything was going to plan. The Wabbit borrowed the Film Museum for the show and it was meant to be a surprise. One minute Humphrey Bogart was on the screen and in the next it was Chagall's painting of the Dream Rabbit. On strode the Wabbit and lifted his pointer. He tapped the picture. "What you see before you is a copy of a copy of Chagall's famous painting. I do have the original copy under lock and key." He paused and looked around. A few people had arrived. "I'm offering you one of the finest copies of a famous rabbit there is. Perfectly rendered in oil and canvas." Two figures arrived at the back and they looked shifty. They were obviously the ones. "Now I can't offer you the original," continued the Wabbit, "that's safely locked up in the Museum of Modern Art in Paris." His walkie talkie crackled a bit and he murmured into the mouthpiece, "That's them at the back." Lapinette tensed. Her balcony hideout concealed her slender frame. She aimed the snazer and waited. Wabsworth too, was disguised as a museum visitor and he too was armed and ready. The Wabbit smiled. "For today and today only, I can offer you the finest copy of a copy of this painting. What am I bid?" The two ruffians at the back stepped forward and pulled out their weapons. "We know you have the original painting. And we know you have it here. So we bid you nothing at all. Hand it over." The Wabbit raised a paw. Her heard the snick of an automatic and the whine of a snazer. The ruffians were aghast. "It's a trap," said one of the ruffians. "I told you so," said the other, "it was too easy. What do we do now?" "Why don't you pretend it's performance art," shrugged the Wabbit.

[Fair use claimed for repro of Chagall's work. Minimal picture quality and of educational value!]

7. The Wabbit and the Rabbit Provenance

The Wabbit tried to figure out what interest his attackers had in his art catalogue and together with Lovely Lapinette he repaired to the Department's new Map Room. It was a nice space with plenty of room for both maps and thinking. He threw down the art book on the vast table. Lapinette had brought something along as well. "The answer is here," said the Wabbit. "And it has something to do with this," added Lapinette. She produced a copy of The Dream, The Rabbit - an early work by Chagall. The Wabbit nodded his head. "Is there any chance that we have the real picture?" Lapinette considered very carefully and tried to remember her training in European art. "Copies are so good these days that there is a chance it was substituted. Experts can be fooled. Where did you get the copy?" The Wabbit laughed. "In a market in Paris from an old Jewish fellow who looked like Methuselah." Lapinette wrinkled her nose. "It's supposed to be in the Museum of Modern Art in Paris." The Wabbit winked. "Mine is under lock and key in my shed." Lapinette flicked through the book. "The Dream, The Rabbit is not in in here." "It wasn't as popular as his later works," said the Wabbit. "Probably because there was a rabbit in it," sighed Lapinette. "Rabbit exclusion everywhere," grunted the Wabbit. "When's the catalogue coming out?" asked Lapinette. "Monday," said the Wabbit, "and it's listed as an oil and canvas reproduction. Very highly priced. Very." Lapinette hopped round the table three times. "We'll see who comes for it." "I suppose I'll have to check their credentials," smiled the Wabbit. Lapinette's paw felt for her automatic. "I'll do the checking."

6. The Wabbit and a Spot of Bother

On the advice of the Magician's Rabbit, the Wabbit drew up his catalogue and he was on his way home with the draft. The evening was pleasant. A gentle breeze blew along Via Giovanni Giolitti and it ruffled the Wabbit's fur. "I'm very pleased to get this finished," murmured the Wabbit to himself. An art catalogue was a tougher proposition than he had imagined. He really wasn't expecting trouble, because art was hardly a controversial matter. Or so he thought. But a shape loomed up behind him - and then another. "There he is," said a voice. "Let's get him," said another. The shape shoved up against him and buffeted him to the left and then the other buffeted him to the right. He could see now they were two giant rabbits he had never seen before. They were trying to get the catalogue, but the Wabbit wasn't going to let them have it. They pulled him one way and then another. He held onto the catalogue like grim death. "Leave off or I'll give you trouble," he yelled. He bashed one of them in the eye and there was a yelp. The other he elbowed in the nose and there was another yelp. A frantic scrabble took place and pages of the catalogue flew in the air. "That took me all day!" yelled the Wabbit, "pick them up you ruffians." The giant rabbits turned and fled. The Wabbit went around picking up the pages. The breeze wafted along the street and the Wabbit chased them up and down. Finally, he tracked the last page down. It was stuck to a litter bin with a candy wrapper. The Wabbit peeled it off. "It's all wrapped up now," he joked. But who were the two giant rabbits? What did they want? They had certainly taken him by surprise. "The fast and the furriest," mused the Wabbit.

5. The Wabbit and the Shaking Down

They just couldn't hold on. The bridge started to shake, and they were catapulted down like so many skittles. "Whoa!" yelled the Wabbit. He could see the ground coming up and it looked hard. He engaged his special coat to soften the blow. Lapinette was more confident in her agility and she started to roll. Skratch was a cat and he could cope with most things. He twisted and turned and ended up the right way. All the same it was a surprise. Wabsworth fared worst of all since he was an android and not really built for maneuvers in the air. His arms flailed and he prepared for a crash landing. Somehow, he engaged his g-force circuitry and gradually managed to move round. Lapinette found herself looking at a rabbit. The rabbit looked at her and said, "I am the Bunnyman." Lapinette twisted and landed on all fours. "You don't look like the Bunnyman to me." The Wabbit was close behind Lapinette - then came Skratch, then Wabsworth. They stood and faced the rabbit. "Where's your axe?" The rabbit smiled and opened his paws. "I have no axe. That's all piffle. I can shake things though." Without moving, he shook the bridge until it threatened to collapse. "I get the drift," said the Wabbit, holding up his paws. "But what about that?" He pointed at the planet, which had replaced the Moon. "You call this Pluto Park don't you?" said the rabbit. "I changed it for one of Pluto's." He snuffled a bit and blinked, and it was the Moon again. "Aha!" said Wabsworth, "You're a conjuror and you came out of a hat." The rabbit nodded. "I confess, I am from a famous painting." Lapinette was curious. "Where's the conjuror?" "I left him behind," said the rabbit. "I can't abide conjurors. I put him in the hat."

4. The Wabbit's Duplicate Hallowe'en

It was a spooky night out at Pluto Park and up on the bridge, the Wabbit clutched his axe to his chest. He wasn't going to be outdone this year. He bellowed out for all to hear. "It is me who is the Bunnyman. Me! There are no others." But he heard a scuffling behind him. It was Lapinette. "No, that's not true. It is me who is the Bunnyman. None come before me and never have." She waved her axe threateningly. The wind whistled through the park. A translucent blue moon looked down. There was a noise from behind her and she turned. "I'm afraid you're wrong, Lapinette. Because all along it was me. It is Wabsworth who is the true Bunnyman." Wabsworth waved his axe too. Yet it wasn't over. The sound of a ferocious meaow that went on forever, hung over the park like a serrated sword. "I am Skratch and I am the Bunnyman who cut up his victims at Bunnyman bridge. The blood of the Bunnyman is in me." The temperature dropped and the Wabbit shivered. "There can only be one Bunnyman," he moaned. "Lapinette scowled. "I am the Bunnyman!" Skratch meaowed from the back. "I am the Bunnyman!" Wabsworth joined the chorus. "I am the Bunnyman!" They all stood their ground but the Wabbit was the first to give in. "Look it's all a joke, there's no Bunnyman. He doesn't exist." They all started to laugh. But their laughing quickly died. They staggered as something shook the bridge with force. Their blood chilled as the sound of a stick rattling along the railings drifted through the night air. It was then that they heard the harsh groaning voice. "I am the true Bunnyman and you're standing on my bridge ..."

3. The Wabbit and the Talking Art Exhibit

The Wabbit and Lapinette decided to start their project with some borrowed art, just to test the market. Bearing a painting adapted from a medieval fresco they mounted the stairs at the Department of Wabbit Affairs. They hadn't reckoned on the weight of the frame. "Phew," said the Wabbit, "art is hard work!" Lapinette was panting with the effort. "Maybe we should have started with a miniature." The Wabbit shook his head. "It's important to start as you mean to go on." But as they climbed the stairs the painting seemed to vibrate with every step they took. "Can you feel anything?" asked the Wabbit. "I can hear something," said Lapinette. They stopped and listened. "It's whispering," said Lapinette. The voices soon stopped, and they carried on. But suddenly they started again and this time they were louder. It was the rabbits on the painting. They were saying something. They started to sing. "Beware beware, better beware, on the steppy step steps of the oldy old stairs." The Wabbit wasn't astonished one bit. "I heard something like this before." Lapinette agreed. "I think we should listen because it's a warning." The rabbits burst into melodic tune. "Have you seen the ghost of the Bunny Man? Sits in the garden on an old tin can. If you see him, you'd better ask, just where did you put your bloody axe?" The Wabbit dropped his side of the picture and Lapinette followed suit. The rabbits fell silent. Lapinette pouted. "I thought we'd heard the last of the Bunny Man?" "He never lets go," said the Wabbit. "He doesn't exist," said Lapinette. "He is coming," replied the Wabbit, "and we are here."

2. The Wabbit, Lapinette and Fine Art

Lapinette was surprised when she met the Wabbit in the art exhibition. The Camera Centre was featuring the work of Paulo Ventura and she thought she'd just catch it. "Hello Wabbit, I didn't expect to find you here." The Wabbit jumped. He was contemplating the various exhibits for inclusion in his catalogue and was lost in thought. "Hello Lapinette, you're just the person I need to help me in my quest." Lapinette smiled. "What are you up to, Wabbit?" The Wabbit explained about meeting Pio Pulcinella and his suggestion for stimulating the Dinosaur Fund. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "that's quite an undertaking." The Wabbit stepped back and threw his arms wide. "I was thinking of including all artists who featured rabbits." "Would you include hares?" asked Lapinette. "Certainly, all manner of lagomorphs," replied the Wabbit. "Mmm," said Lapinette, "There's Durer, Chagall and Miro." "Of course," said the Wabbit. "And John Herring," said Lapinette. "Doesn't he do mainly fish?" said the Wabbit. "Horses," giggled Lapinette. "Well of course there's this fellow Ventura here," ventured the Wabbit. "He does Rabbits. I thought I'd get him to illustrate our catalogue." Lapinette thought for a while. "They're all rather expensive, Wabbit. Have you thought about how you're going to finance it?" The Wabbit hadn't thought about that at all, but he came up with a quick answer.  "A Crowdfunder on that Internet thing?" Lapinette nodded her head gravely. "Lots of small amounts from interested parties." The Wabbit became excited. "We'll launch it on the world wide web and it will go completely spiral." "Viral," groaned Lapinette.

1. The Wabbit's Economic Imperative

The Wabbit was hopping through the Gallery of Modern Art when he spotted someone he knew. "Pio!" he shouted. "Pio Pulcinella! I haven't seen you for quite a while!" Pio turned away from the piece he was studying. "Commander Wabbit," he smiled, "Pleased to meet you again." Pio was an ace economist and a follower of Michal Kalecki. If anyone knew anything about economics, it was Pio. "I'm glad I bumped into you," said the Wabbit. "My Dinosaur Fund hasn't been doing very well lately." The Wabbit's Dinosaur Fund paid for all the unofficial missions undertaken by the Wabbit. Pio frowned. "These are difficult times, Commander." He shook his head sadly. "Call me Wabbit," said the Wabbit. "OK, Wabbit, we'll meet and sort this out," said Pio, "But what exactly is the problem?" "Things are sluggish, nothing's moving," said the Wabbit. "I still suggest Intergalactic Government Bonds," said Pio. The Wabbit frowned. "Aren't they susceptible to Rebel Alliance Attacks?" said the Wabbit, "I heard that two space stations had been destroyed." Pio threw his head back and laughed, "You should be giving me advice, Wabbit." The Wabbit laughed too. "I was thinking of something that was a nice little earner, nothing too grand." "Nothing too grand and nothing too illegal?" responded Pio. "Heavens no," said the Wabbit. Pio thought for a while. "What brings you to the Gallery Wabbit." "Gives me inspiration," replied the Wabbit. Pio was direct enough. "Have you considered Art Investment?" The Wabbit's eyes flickered with interest. "It's not very liquid," said Pio, "until now that is." The Wabbit had the glimmer of an idea. He put a finger to his lips. "Let's meet in secure surroundings ..."

The Wabbit at the Grand Adventure Caffè

The Wabbit had arranged a special dinner for Lapinette but hadn't told her. He very much wanted it to be a surprise. So he alerted Wabsworth and Skratch. Together they persuaded Lapinette it was merely a boring talk on new protocols, but that her attendance was completely necessary. Then they laid out the table in the Big Dining Room at the Department. The menu was a fantastic one, containing everything Lapinette liked. The courses were too numerous to mention, but the menu started with devilled crab, then Carrots Royale followed by Jerusalem Artichokes a la Wabbit. There were more dishes than you could shake a stick at, separate drinks for every course and Lapinette's favourite tunes played on a sound system constructed to the Wabbit's own specifications. "Welcome Lapinette!" cried the Wabbit, "please be seated." Lapinette smiled and waved her paw. "You shouldn't have!" Skratch was waiting for his moment. "Please sit down and tell us what kind of adventure you thought we had." He drew out a chair and Lapinette sat down and spoke. "It was a system of signs predicated upon the perfect coffee," she said. "And I can safely say it was quite most hilarious compilation of sci-fi tropes I've ever seen." The Wabbit raised an eyebrow. Wabsworth launched in. "The coffee acted as a performative signifier, which itself pointed to a dislinkage between itself and the real world." Skratch laughed. "I can't say I disagree. We are all part of the theatre of images." The Wabbit wanted the last word. "Self-fashioned ones you might say." Lapinette chose that moment to rap on the table with a spoon. "Fashion me up a dinner!" "Certainly," said the Wabbit. "Let the Lapinette celebrations begin!"

10. The Wabbit and the Great Return

The Wabbit thought he had better return the coffee machine to the Lavazza Museum. So Quantum landed briefly outside and the Wabbit hopped out with the goods. "You worry too much, Wabbit," called Skratch from the Quantum's cabin. "I wouldn't feel happy if I didn't," replied the Wabbit. He lurched under the weight. The machine glowed slightly from all the radiation it had picked up in space, but the Wabbit paid it no attention. Quantum bore the scars of the brief battle with the alien vessel and had already complained bitterly. The Wabbit knocked at the door. "I brought your coffee machine back," he said. "It just took off into outer space - and me with it." The Duty Officer was puzzled and sceptical in equal measure. "We're not missing one. But I'll go and look." He went off, returning in an instant. "No, it's still there. And there's no parking here on the concourse you know." The Wabbit was dumbfounded. "What will I do with this then?" But he knew he would keep it. He turned and shouted to Skratch. "Have we got room for a second hand coffee machine?" Quantum wouldn't keep quiet. "Who cares? What about my paneling?" Skratch spoke in a soothing voice. "I might know a good yard where we can get it done cheap." "I want the best job," responded Quantum. The Wabbit hopped back to the cargo hold. "A bit of light grinding, sanding, filling and polishing?" Quantum sounded annoyed. "I want it back to as good as new. I insist on a new panel!" The Wabbit laughed. "Where's that engineering yard, Skratch." "It's so hard to keep track of them," joked Skratch. Back on board, the Wabbit reclined in the cab. "What was that for a sort of adventure?" Skratch held his sides in helpless mirth. "I think we're about to find out .."

9. The Wabbit and the Battle for Space

The Wabbit shielded his face from the glare. The alien vessel came from underneath, firing blades of surgical steel. "Shields up!" he yelled to Quantum. Quantum's reply was terse. "This is not Star Trek Commander. I'm a locomotive not a Vulcan Cruiser." He dodged the flying blades, nonetheless. The Wabbit and Skratch were nauseous and reeled around Quantum's cab. "I never thought coffee would cause all this trouble," said the Wabbit, "Go to Lattice Drive, Quantum!" Quantum snorted. "For that Commander, I need some room and I'm not getting any." He swerved away, but the alien vessel followed. His blades caught Quantum's paneling and took some paint off. "You owe me a re-spray Commander," said Quantum. The Wabbit sighed. "Any ideas, Skratch." Skratch pondered. "They liked the coffee smell, Commander." "Well its worth a try," said the Wabbit. "Have you got any of these awful capsules we used to use." Skratch nodded. "I've got gunpowder, strawberries, seared steak and rum flavour." "Eject them all from the cargo hold," said the Wabbit. The cargo hold door creaked open and out spiraled all their old coffee pods. They watched anxiously. The alien vessel shuddered to a halt. Then it started following the old coffee capsules. "It's looking for the space equivalent of Starbuck's," sighed the Wabbit, "OK Quantum, let's go to Lattice Drive." Quantum chortled "I think we should rename it Lettuce Drive Commander? Green and leafy lettuce?" Skratch laughed and laughed. It's not just lettuce, it's wonderfully crisp and fresh lettuce." The Wabbit shook his head. "Just do it Quantum." There was a flash and Quantum disappeared into a dot ...