The Wabbit at his Adventure Caffè

The team assembled at the designated Adventure Caffè. Rain was just starting - umbrella sellers had already hit the streets. The Caffè was in the shopping district where Wabsworth had been buying shoes and he plonked them on the table. The Wabbit barely glanced at them but he made a comment. "I didn't know you liked shoes, Wabsworth." Wabsworth was an android copy of the Wabbit, but he had his own opinions on shopping. "It's cyber-Monday. I got 50 per cent off loafers." Lapinette grinned. "I gave Wabsworth my card. I'm a Super Friend of Geox." The Wabbit shrugged. Whatever Monday it was, he knew that commercially, it may as well never have happened. "There's Skratch," pointed Lapinette. Skratch emerged from the Caffè and waved. "What was that for a sort of Adventure you just had?" They all considered. "It was a kind of children's story," said Wabsworth. "But what kind of a children's story?" responded Lapinette. "It was a colour story," meaowed Skratch, "Colour is a semiotic induction. It engages with the unconscious to perform the labour of imagining." The Wabbit chipped in here. "I think my Adventure story tasted pink." Skratch meaowed hard and long. "It was pink all over." Lapinette shook with laughter. "Are you referring to semiotic metaphor?" Skratch laughed. "I might have been. But the overall tone and appeal was definitely pink. So it was a dual sign, picture-story event." Lapinette looked pensive. "Hmm. The sign is generative and generates another system of signs which also functions as a sign." The Wabbit sighed and called for the waiter. "I need a strong pink drink."

6. The Wabbit and the Medieval Print

The Wabbit was as good as his word. He searched out a suitable space for a copy shop and installed the printer. Before long, pink paper was flying from the output tray. The cartridge came out to inspect his new location. "This is a medieval castle," he exclaimed, "and it's quite pink." The Printer rumbled in the background. "How did you find this place?" The Wabbit explained. "Oh, I was one one of these bus tours and we all had to file round. I had a quiet word with the owners. Now you're obliged to print their promotional leaflets." The cartridge was ecstatic. "As long as they're pink!" The Wabbit swivelled to take in the scene - and noticed two pink chairs. "They do seem to like pink." The cartridge pointed to the pink paper. "We wanted to give you a special present. It will take a while to get your image perfectly pink." The Wabbit looked at the paper and smiled. Every page had his picture, in which he was completely pink. "I'm flattered," said the Wabbit. "I'm going to tweak it again," said the cartridge, "Where would you like them delivered?" The Wabbit grinned. "I'm going back home. Just address them to The Wabbit, Rome." The Printer rumbled again. "They'll be a few days. We got rather a large order for wedding invitations." The Wabbit waved and made to lope off. He felt a warm glow and turned. "I'm feeling in the pink," he said. "So don't forget to visit," said the Printer. "Don't worry, I'll be back," smiled the Wabbit, "to pick up my commission." Then they laughed and laughed and laughed.

5. The Wabbit and the Bid for Freedom

The print cartridge took off straight out the door. The Wabbit followed. The cartridge was fast and the Wabbit had to use his special powers to keep. They sped through town and country. Everything was a blur, until they reached a small medieval town. It was entirely lit in pink which delighted the cartridge. "Pink pink pink," it yelled, "This must be home." The cartridge slowed down and so did the Wabbit. The Printer came to a juddering stop. The cartridge danced round and round. "I'm home, I'm home. This is the place I want to be." The Printer looked around. "I'm very surprised that - I rather like this place." The Wabbit gasped for breath but he was pleased a solution was in sight. "I'm certain we can find you a billet. Every town needs a print shop." The cartridge was overjoyed. The Printer seemed pleased. There was lovely fresh air, and everything was quiet. "Peace and quiet to print books," said the Printer, "Just what I always wanted." "I can pink them up," said the cartridge. "Pink Panther," suggested the Wabbit. "The Adventures of Mr Pink-Whistle," murmured the Printer. "Pretty in Pink," yelled the cartridge. The Wabbit held up a paw. "We've just got to find you a premises. Then you can print anything you want. People will flock." The Printer opened his ink compartment and with a single leap, the cartridge jumped in. "It's a little late but we'll find something," stated the Wabbit. Then in high spirits, they wandered through the streets of the small medieval town.
 

4. The Wabbit and the Angry Printer

The Wabbit had seen angry customers before but nothing like the furious printer. He came storming into the shop like the antichrist. His cover waved wildly. Shelves shook and shop produce shivered in fright. He yelled and shouted and ranted and raved. "I am the Printer!" He let fly a series of swear words that would have astonished the Ancient Mariner. "I am the one who knocks!" he yelled. The Wabbit's ears curled, and he couldn't help but step back. So he used his best powers of diplomacy. "How can I help you?" he asked, "I can see you're a little annoyed." The Printer shook with rage. His lid slammed up and down. "Get my print cartridge!" The Wabbit smiled his most diplomatic smile. "He's otherwise engaged but if you give him a second, he'll be with you." The Printer looked at the Wabbit in disgust. "And you are?" The Wabbit smiled again. "I am your most obedient servant." He nodded. Then he nodded again for good measure and waited. "What's my cartridge doing?" asked the Printer. He seemed to have calmed. "Sampling pink drinks," explained the Wabbit. "Pink drinks again," said the Printer. He sighed. "I knew it. He's not content with simple cartridge ink." The Wabbit's ears returned to normal. "If you'd wait a second. He's a little indisposed." "Drunk you mean." "A bit unsteady," replied the Wabbit. "He's got a big job coming up," groaned the Printer. "War and Peace,", suggested the Wabbit. "War and Peach," responded the Printer. "Peachy," grinned the Wabbit. "Wait outside and I'll get him for you. I'm sure I can cake peach." "Make peace," you mean." said the Printer. "No," laughed the Wabbit.

3. The Wabbit and the Shop on the Corner

The Wabbit and the print cartridge made their way to the place the Wabbit had identified through an intensive advertising campaign on the Internet. "I see this is aimed at foreigners," said the Wabbit. He wrinkled his nose, then saw his favourite sauces and gasped. The cartridge was delighted to find pink wine. "I see pink," he yelled, "I want that one and that one and that one!" The cartridge was agitated and in danger of knocking things to the floor. "Settle down now," said the Wabbit. "There's a bar at the back and you can choose one and drink it there." The cartridge couldn't wait. He deftly uncorked wine bottle after wine bottle and sucked up the contents. "Slur slurp slurp, Pink pink pink!" His cartridges filled with wine and bulged alarmingly. He demolished several bottles with speed and reached for more. The Wabbit was horrified and reached in his fur for his credit card - which he seldom used. "Savour the wine," he called. "Take only small sips." But the print cartridge got rounder and larger. Finally it stopped, burped and sprayed jets of pink wine across the shop. Despite himself the Wabbit started to laugh. He held his sides and hooted. "You're drunk!" he said. "I shertainly shnott," slobbered the cartridge. The Wabbit turned to take in a disturbance at the door where something was ranting and raving. "Give me back my ink cartridge. I'm the printer and I'm late with an urgent job. Give me it at once!" The commotion continued. "If you'll excuse me for a minute, I'll just go and take a look," said the Wabbit. He wiped ink from his face and hopped towards the entrance. 

2. The Wabbit and Something Pink

The Wabbit and the print cartridge continued their journey, when night fell as suddenly as a stack of cards. Everything took on a different hue. Car headlights carved through the evening air. Shop windows growled at the street. They passed a delicatessen. The print cartridge turned into a blur. It was true that he was mostly pink, andhis colours blended with security stickers at the side of windows. "Pink, pink, pink," cried the cartridge. The Wabbit ignored him. He stared at the assembled food, particularly the cheeses. He was fond of a bit of cheese and his mouth watered and his tummy rumbled. The cartridge zoomed around. "I like this window, it's mostly pink." The Wabbit was thinking of a salad sandwich with mostly cheese. "But you can't eat pink," he observed. "Yes, you can," replied the cartridge. "There's rhubarb, grapes, radicchio, loganberries ... all sorts." The Wabbit thought of a few himself - mainly in self-defence. "Taramasalata, beetroot ... and pink oyster mushrooms." Told you so," said the cartridge. The Wabbit shrugged and continued with beverages. "Rose wines of all sorts, Pink Prosecco." He was now in the spirit of things and smiled. "Perhaps I could entertain you with a glass of something pink." The cartridge stopped zooming around. "Sounds nice. Maybe I could spice up my pink ink." The Wabbit steered the cartridge round the corner to a small bar he'd seen advertised on the internet. "That will be just pleasantly pinkalicious."

1. The Wabbit and the King of Rome

The Wabbit sauntered along, feeling benign. He'd set off on a jaunt to see where he'd end up, and he smiled in a satisfied manner as he emerged from the Re di Roma Metro Station. The Wabbit liked the name and Appio Latino was a district he didn't know well. He hummed a tune he knew from a detective series on TV. "Tum te tum te tum ta. Da da da deh deh." For a minute he imagined he was the detective Rocco Schiavone and briefly shivered in a town in the Alps. Then he chuckled. The junction seemed to be a warm pink. "Pink Corner," he thought. He looked from right to left. The graffiti wasn't interesting, but he noticed a single word. He thought that maybe the artist was disturbed and only managed to write 'The'. He speculated. What was he going to say? "The colour pink," said a voice. A flash of rainbow colours took his attention. "Ink is pink," said the voice. A print cartridge floated from the printers on the corner. The colours shimmered in front of the Wabbit. He wrinkled his nose in amusement. "The King is pink," added the cartridge. The Wabbit noticed that the cartridge was composed of many colours, but decided not to mention it. "Everything is pink," said the cartridge. "I think you're seeing through pink tinted spectacles." laughed the Wabbit, "Various shades of pink even." The cartridge seemed to nod. "Well, Kant never said that," said the Wabbit. "Did I mention Kant?" said the cartridge. Then it turned, indicating that the Wabbit should accompany him. Since he wasn't doing anything else, the Wabbit followed him up the street.

The Wabbit and his Adventure Caffè

The team wandered through Testaccio Market in search of a Caffè. Lapinette was overjoyed and jumped in the air as she liked to do. "Here we are in Testaccio!" she exclaimed, "I must go and look at ladies' clothes." The Wabbit grinned. "We've got to to go to a Caffè first," he said. "I think ladies' clothes can wait." Wabsworth brought up the rear. "Did you get that delightful tartan frock here?" Lapinette shook her head. "No that was up in Via di San Silverio," Skratch looked dubious. "When are renovations finished?" "In the Year of the Ass," shrugged the Wabbit. "Not like good old Testaccio!" grumbled Wabsworth. "I liked the old Testaccio market," meaowed Skratch. The Wabbit shook his head. "Do you want to ask the question, Skratch? Or Lapinette will never get to that shop." Wabsworth asked it. "What was that for a sort of Adventure you just had?" Skratch let out a terrific meaow that made everyone jump. "It was a kind of folk tale and as such didn't have to make much sense." Lapinette jumped even higher. "That's right, it wasn't genre as such. The transpositions in location served to challenge our overall awareness of time and space." Wabsworth chuckled. "Castaneda would have agreed. You assembled in other worlds." Skratch purred. "Jumping off the roof. Now that was a tour de force." Then Lapinette laughed. "We kept our awareness too." The Wabbit doubled up. "We were kindled with knowledge. And so we knew the quickest way to the bar!" Wabsworth chuckled too. "Let's burn from within. I'll have an Aperol spritz."

[Year of the Ass: Said to be an old Chinese Joke. There is no year of the Ass]

5. The Wabbit and the Rooftop Nature

Lapinette and the Wabbit found themselves scrabbling on the edge of the rooftops. They were staring at the Buddha from the Box Camera. Lapinette had the Box Camera with her, but she couldn't recall picking it up. The Wabbit scowled and clambered onto the roof. "What gives?" he said. "The Roof is on the Rabbits," said the Buddha. "If you like," responded the Wabbit, "but why are we here?" The Buddha shimmered. "It's in the nature of things." The Wabbit thought he preferred the Buddha when he was in the box. But he was respectful. "Why are you here?" he asked. The Buddha replied. "That is the Buddha Nature." The Wabbit felt like the most junior of monks. Lapinette chimed in. "Where do you feel most comfortable?" The Buddhist replied. "I am outside the Box Camera." Lapinette considered. "Where is the Box Camera most comfortable?" The Wabbit decided not to get involved. "Outside me," said the Buddha. The Wabbit was confused but wouldn't say so. "Where does that leave us?" he said. "Back where we started?" replied Lapinette. The Buddha blinked and vanished. A muffled sound came from inside the inside the Box Camera. The Wabbit was baffled. "What do we do now?" Lapinette answered quickly. "We wait for a satori moment." The Wabbit shrugged. "Could be a while." Lapinette smiled. "Let's jump!" The Wabbit looked down. It was a long way, but he grabbed her paw and they both jumped off the roof. For a second, they were surrounded by a clear green light. Then they were in the museum - and both box and Buddha had gone. "Was that a satori moment?" asked Lapinette. The Wabbit shook his head and shrugged. "No," he replied, "It was a Carlos Castaneda moment." 

The Wabbit and the Hallowe'en Horsemen

The team hadn't forgotten about the annual Hallowe'en Party. By special arrangement they'd obtained permission to hold it - near midnight - at the Royal Palace. They wandered through the armoury. "This looks like a good place," said the Wabbit. "Neigh," whinnied a horse.  "Did you hear a horse neigh?" asked Lapinette. "Neigh," whinnied another horse. They looked to right and left. They heard the clatter of ghostly hooves. Two horses carrying two armoured soldiers were suddenly upon them. Blood spattered from their nostrils every time they snorted. The Wabbit wiped blood from his forehead. "This makes a change." he shrugged, "It's usually the Bunnyman." The mounted soldiers gave hollow laughs - hollower than fallen echoes across an abyss. They snickered as one. "Ha ha ha ha hah! We are the horsed guard of the Bunnymen, come to torment you at Hallowe'en." Skratch half sneered, half grimaced. "The Bunnyman always has an axe." Lapinette concurred. "Yes, devilish ones. Show us your axe." A ghostly axe materialised from thin air, sharper than the ravens cry. It chopped once and gore sprayed across Wabsworth. It chopped again and splattered Skratch in the eye. Skratch got annoyed. "Who are you to advance on us with vague similes?" The horses reared. Wabsworth and Skratch cowered in fright. The Wabbit grinned and pressed a hidden switch in his fur. "How do like my full scale models?" It was nearly midnight. The riders and their steeds failed to stop. One horse gave the Wabbit's ears a vicious bite. "Yikes!" yelled the Wabbit. Lapinette, Wabsworth and Skratch all laughed and laughed. "How do you like ours?"

4. The Wabbit and Lapinette's Assistance

Lapinette was helping the museum with an ancient mosaic when the Wabbit hopped in. "Mind where you tread, Wabbit!" she yelled. "This is very old." The Wabbit wrinkled his nose. "So is this." He held up the box camera which continued to smoke. Lapinette put down a piece of mosaic and looked up. Behind the Wabbit was a strange shape. "There!" said Lapinette. "There, where?" responded the Wabbit. He looked straight at Lapinette. "At your back," she groaned. The Wabbit half turned. The vapours had turned into a genie of sorts. Or so the Wabbit figured. "A genie. It looks like the Buddha." The figure grinned. A quavering voice began. "I can take many forms." Lapinette stood now, with paws on hips. "He's not the Buddha." The mist shivered and the figure became more solid. "Only the cats know," he uttered. The Wabbit shrugged. "I should have brought Skratch. He knows all sorts." Lapinette brushed fragments of mosaic from her knees. "What if I sweep the dust and see the Buddha?" The Wabbit caught on. "The Buddha has no country. Where can you see him?" Lapinette was quick. "The Wabbit is one hundred steps ahead of me." The Wabbit shrugged again. "Then I must brandish my sword." The shape cleared and its voice shook the museum. "No need Wabbit, I'm rumbled." Lapinette sat down. "Maybe he is the Buddha." The Wabbit turned around so he could see him. "Why were you inside a camera?" The figure smiled. "Who put me there?" Lapinette smiled too. "Perhaps he didn't answer a koan." The Buddha shook his head. "Maybe he did answer it." 

[Loosely adapted from Kassan brandishes the sword.]  

3. The Wabbit and the Camera in the Box

After the blast there was only one thing left in the box. It wasn't Hope as Skratch had suggested, but a box camera labelled Kodak 120. The Wabbit tried to open it but couldn't. "It has to open," he thought, " otherwise they wouldn't get the film inside." After much twisting and pulling he decided to take it to the photo museum where he thought they know something about the camera and where it came from. He was entirely wrong. The staff were clueless about the camera, other than the model - it was a Kodak Portrait Brownie 120. They insisted they only knew about pictures it might have taken and suggested he look at the exhibition for ideas. The Wabbit shrugged. But since he was there, he decided to examine the exhibits. It was mostly about Ketty la Rocca, who was an avant garde photographer. He decided her work was more in Skratch's line of expertise. He sniffed. There was something in the air. He looked down. A puff of vapour came from the camera lens. Then another. Soon a steady stream of vapor jetted from the camera. It was also getting hot. The Wabbit tried to put it down, but his paws were stuck fast. "I'd better get this out of here," he thought. He dashed from the museum and took off down the road at some speed. Then he heard a voice from inside the camera. "Let me out at once!" The Wabbit couldn't oblige. "I'm afraid it's stuck," he said," so I can't open the camera." The voice spoke again. "Take it to someone who can." The Wabbit thought hard. When he had difficulty, he usually took things to Lapinette. He broke into a run. "On my way," he breathed.

2. The Wabbit and Skratch in the Blast

They hauled the box home so that they could examine it at leisure. Despite Skratch's reassurance that the box was empty, they found otherwise. The Wabbit spied lamps of various - all of them from China - and a few electric fittings. "What say you now, Skratch?" "I thought the box was rattling a bit. They don't weigh much, those things," said Skratch. The Wabbit had a funny feeling they shouldn't have taken the box for granted. He reached inside and grabbed a lamp. "Perfectly normal lamp, nothing strange," said Skratch. But he had a crawly feeling in his tummy that all wasn't right. "Best be a little careful with that one," he said. He pointed at the socket fitting. "It looks OK," said the Wabbit, "I really could use one of these in the shed." He seized it rather roughly. Skratch became aware of a familiar smell. "Do you smell burning?" he purred. The Wabbit hesitated and let go of the socket. "Do you mean like a light fitting when the plastic deteriorates?" Skratch nodded. They both began to retreat as they heard sizzling and buzzing. "I think it's best to put some distance between us and the box." The Wabbit recalled the time when he'd mixed filler the wrong way round. It got so hot he'd thrown it over a wall and cowered in terror from the blast. The Wabbit screwed up his nose and shrugged. But they were too late. The fitting exploded in a shower of acrid black particles. They coughed and spluttered and wheezed and ran. They were both covered in black and smelled to high heaven. "How do we explain this to Lapinette?" murmured the Wabbit.

1. The Wabbit and the Quiet Street

The Wabbit and Skratch the Cat were taking a small vacation in Dublin, just to see old haunts. They ambled along Raglan Road. The Wabbit hummed the tune and Skratch meaowed along. But when the Wabbit got to the end of the first verse, "Let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day," Skratch exclaimed, "Too melancholy Wabbit. Do you know anything brighter?" The Wabbit laughed and warbled. "There's whiskey in the jar!" He did a jig and they both kicked leaves as they rounded the corner. "What's this?" exclaimed the Wabbit. They could hardly ignore the box. The Wabbit examined it. "It's from China." Skratch snickered. "Everything is!" They looked it up and down. "What shall we do? We can't just leave it here." Skratch had been a cat burglar in his time, so he smiled. "Technically, it's thrown away, so it belongs to the finder." The Wabbit wasn't so sure. "Maybe it fell off the back of a lorry." "Same thing," murmured Skratch. The Wabbit poked the top. "Might be an explosive device." Skratch kicked it for a few metres. Packing materials fell out. Nothing else. "Nope," he purred. "No device. But as it happens, I could use a box." He plucked it from the ground with a paw. They made their way to Pembroke Road. "Quick one at Searsons?" asked Skratch. "Drop of the Cratur," replied the Wabbit. He thought about their schedule. All the details had been left to Skratch. "How are we getting home?" Skratch meaowed. "Susan the Biplane from Newcastle Aerodrome, 4pm." "Time for two drops then," laughed the Wabbit. "And a slap-up lunch," purred Skratch.

[Raglan Road. Songwriters: Sean Taylor/Patrick Kavanagh. Lyrics © Straitjacket Songs Ltd., Sgo Music Publishing Ltd.]

The Wabbit Heads for the Adventure Caffè

The team made its way to the Caffè at the Museum of Modern Art. But there were so many interesting exhibits that it was mistaken for one. "Hang on there!" said a voice. "I'd like a photograph." The Wabbit chuckled and so did everyone else. Then they all deliberately looked in different directions. "That's so chic," said a female voice. "How do they do it?" said another. "Animatronics," said the first voice. The team gave sickly smiles and went on. "Give me a kiss," said the Wabbit. "Certainly not," answered Skratch. "Save these kisses for me," quipped Lapinette. "Oh, I feel left out," said Wabsworth. The Wabbit puckered his lips and looked at Wabsworth. Wabsworth corrected himself and changed the subject. "So Skratch. What was that for a sort of adventure?" Skratch drew himself up to his full height. "As we can see here, seeing comes before words. The Adventure was a way of seeing. Carnivals involve both sight and sound but seeing comes first." Lapinette was quick to respond. "That was John Berger." Wabsworth was not to be left out. "And also Walter Benjamin. Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction." The Wabbit nodded sagely. "The image also proposes reciprocity. The photographers saw us. We saw the photographers." Lapinette had been mulling everything over. "The Amusement Park places the subject in a system of lights - at night." Skratch became wistful and meoawed. "Unremarkable during the day." Lapinette frisked along. "We're remarkable all the time." The Wabbit considered that. "More remarkable if we have a Prosecco. Where's that Caffè?" Lapinette jumped in the air. "Where we came in!"