3. The Wabbit in an Alternative Space

It wasn't quite a wrench. Neither was it a pull. But two paws moved both Lapinette and the Wabbit to a different space. They both blinked. There was a smiling Wabsworth holding a strange box. But the scene had changed. They were outside. Everything was brown like it was autumn. Icy fronds hung from trees. Boulders were covered in moss. "Like it?" queried Wabsworth. They looked around. "Where are we?" asked Lapinette. "What's that box?" asked the Wabbit. "This is the inside of the outside, or the outside of the inside. It makes no difference. It's a quantum thing," grinned Wabsworth. "I had to remove you from danger, everything is the same as it was. "Very pretty," scowled Lapinette, "But we were creeping up on the Agents of Rabit. "You were going round in circles," said Wabsworth, "These are an elite squad of Agents, well versed in time travel." Lapinette gasped. "They come from the future?" Wabsworth grinned. "Not exactly." Water dripped behind the Wabbit and joined a small stream which seemed to flow upwards. "This is an alternative space I created," said Wabsworth. "The other universe which you left is contained in this box." The Wabbit laughed. "Don't let it out, it was awful." "I can't keep it here for long," said Wabsworth, "It gives us a breathing space. I only have this, then winter, spring and summer. After that it expires." The Wabbit marched up and down, thinking. "It's autumn. Are there chestnut trees?" Wabsworth nodded and fiddled with his box. The Wabbit looked on the ground. With a lopsided grin, he said, "Divide and conker?"

2. The Wabbit and the Enchanted Caveway

Lapinette and the Wabbit travelled to Monster Park. They were there before anyone else but decided to start anyway. "I don't remember this passageway," groaned the Wabbit. "We're supposed to be sneaking up on them!" Lapinette was tetchy and so was the Wabbit. The cave was damp and cold, despite being pretty. Water dripped down the walls. Leaves lay on the ground. Colours were vaguely psychedelic. The Wabbit swept the area with his snazer. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Lapinette wrinkled her nose. "I can smell them." The acrid odour of the Agents of Rabbit assailed Lapinette's sensitive nostrils. The Wabbit could smell them too. His nose twitched in protest. "Quiet!" Lapinette heard something. They flattened against the wall but kept going. Lapinette was philosophical. "They could be anywhere in this maze. Smells travel this way and that." The Wabbit whispered. "I recall there were Agents here before. Not the best troops in the world but they were here." They travelled down the cavern. "Wabsworth should be here soon," said Lapinette. "He has our coordinates and a built-in automated direction finder." The Wabbit nodded, then shivered in the cool air. Something dropped in an adjacent cave. They froze. A shadow fell across the cave. A figure stepped in front of them ...

1. The Wabbit and the Historical Question

The Wabbit was perusing a painting in the Museo del Risorgimento. He laughed to himself. "Risorgimentos always involve people kicking seven bells out of each other!" All the same it was extremely exciting and he kept a straight face. But what the Wabbit liked about this room was the light. It struck the wall at a very particular angle and made all the paintings sit up. "Wabbit, Wabbit!" His reverie had been disturbed. Lapinette came piling into the room with sparkling eyes and a flushed face. "Phew I'm glad you're here, Wabbit. You're needed back at the Department." The Wabbit gaped. "Didn't I fill in my travel claim properly?" Lapinette pirouetted across the room. "Nothing like that. It's the Agents of Rabit. There's been an incursion just north of Rome." The Wabbit waited to hear more. "What kind of incursion?" Lapinette stamped her foot and then the other one. "An incursive incursion! They all came swarming out of that folly that you like." "The Mouth at Monster Park?" suggested the Wabbit. "That's the one," said Lapinette, "Agents pretended to be monsters and no one noticed for a while. Tourists thought it was a Monster Park experience. Until they got kidnapped." The Wabbit considered the matter carefully. "They toy with daemons." The Wabbit didn't like tourists and felt they got what they deserved. He heaved a sigh. "Better get down there. Assemble a team. Evacuate remaining tourists." Lapinette wheeled to go. "Where shall we send them?" The Wabbit shrugged. "Somewhere they understand. The Leaning Tower of Pizza."

The Wabbit's famous Adventure Caffè

The team made its way to a Caffè well known to the Wabbit. But to his horror, the place was surrounded by roadworks and hoardings indicating Torino was changing. The Wabbit snorted. "If a few trucks and a hole in the road represents change then I'm a Dutch Uncle." Lapinette laughed. "What is a Dutch Uncle?" The Wabbit thought for a minute. "Someone who sternly disapproves of everything." Wabsworth giggled. "That's you!" Wabsworth was an android copy of the Wabbit and as such had developed sub routines to avoid getting too much like him. Lapinette shook her head. "They're trying to get rid of the mould, Wabbit" The Wabbit sniggered. "Could have fooled me." Skratch arrived at the back, late as usual. "Aren't you going to ask the question?" "I'll ask it." said Lapinette. "What was that for a sort of adventure we just had?" Skratch meaowed long and hard. "It was riposte to global warming. Global warming debates are typified by folk devils and moral panics." Wabsworth butted in. "I thought that was about Mods and Rockers." Everyone was taken aback. How could Wabsworth know about Mods and Rockers? "The same rules apply," shrugged Skratch. "An over reaction to social problems which amplifies through continual reiteration." Lapinette pouted. "Succinct, but moral panic doesn't explain everything. Contextualization demands that we use figurational approaches. The Wabbit interrupted. "Wabsworth has identified a table and I'm having a moral panic about prosecco." Skratch chuckled. "Where's your folk devil?" The Wabbit paused. "In the detail."

5. The Wabbit and the Problem Pumpkin

The Wabbit rummaged in his fur for quite a long time. Then he pulled out two fire extinguishers he'd found in a market. "Got any vinegar?" Lapinette put a hand down her frock and pulled out a family size bottle of acetic acid. It didn't take long to mix it thoroughly and charge up the extinguishers. The mould monster didn't know what to make of it. But when the Wabbit fired an extinguisher off the monster was aghast. Mould disappeared and so did the foul odours. Lapinette continued to clean up. When the mould had all gone, all that was left was a pumpkin. "You're just an ordinary pumpkin!" yelled the Wabbit. He threw down his extinguisher. It clanged on the rocks. Lapinette exclaimed, "Quite an ugly pumpkin." The pumpkin looked ashamed. "I'm nice inside." The Wabbit laughed. "Are you sure you're not mouldy." The pumpkin gave a little Hallowe'en dance. "Lovely are my seeds. They make a cracking Haitian joumou." The Wabbit picked up the extinguisher, stuck it in his fur and shrugged his shoulders. "Juju more like." Lapinette took pity on the poor pumpkin. "Let's all do a late wee Hallowe'en dance for the Day of the Dead." They joined paws and danced across the rocks. Lapinette hummed a Mexican tune. "What is that dance, Lapinette." The Wabbit grinned. "La Danza de los Diablos," sang Lapinette. The Wabbit and the pumpkin laughed. "God sends food," cried the Pumpkin. "And the devil sends cooks!" nodded the Wabbit. 

The Wabbit and a Bunnyman Hallowe'en

The question on everyone's lips was, "Would the Bunnyman put in an appearance this year?" It had always been a joke - or so they thought. They snuck into the film museum, camped out near the top of the ramp  - and waited. They heard footsteps. They heard a heavy object swishing. They felt eyes looking at them. The Wabbit felt along the shaft of his axe. An image of Jack Nicholson unfurled from the darkness. It growled. "Here's Johnny! I am the Bunnyman." The Wabbit half turned. "It's a publicity stunt. He's not the real Bunnyman." The lips moved. Teeth grimaced. "Oh but I am, Wabbit. You don't get realer." Lapinette bounded forward. "You're just a caretaker." Johnny bared his teeth. "Gonna take care of you, little rabbit. And him. Particularly him." He nodded at Skratch. "Intertextuality indeed. You know nothing, cat." He snarled. Wabsworth commented from the side, as only he could. "The Bunnyman is both horror and melodrama. The hesitation of the uncanny, mediated by the marvelous." Skratch was nervous but he grinned. "The marvelous is merely a response to other discourses. As indeed you respond, masquerading as the Bunnyman." The image howled. "But I am the Bunnyman masquerading as Jack Nicholson, a mere player on a stage." The Wabbit turned fully and hit the curtain with his axe. Lapinette followed with well-chosen swings. The image parted and closed again. Now there was no picture. Only a growling voice remained. "See you next year, Wabbits. But I'll be watching you." The Wabbit breathed a sigh of relief. His heart was beating. It was hard not to pant. Wabsworth spoke. "Jung said ghosts were consciousness without the brain."  Lapinette laughed. "No brain, no gain."

4. The Wabbit and the Mould Monster

The Wabbit and Lapinette moved to another bridge and were just crossing. It was all too sudden for the Wabbit to notice. Lapinette tried to alert him, but the mould monster was already at her heels. It was made of the mouldiest mould with two glaring eyes attached by flaps of skin. It looked like Hell - but didn't sound like much. Just the barest of whooshy slitherings and the occasional belch. "Wabbit, it's the monster!" The Wabbit was looking the other way, "I hope it's credible!" He turned, aghast, "It is credible!" He was rooted to the spot. So was the monster. It mumbled in a spooky way, "Yuk, Rabbits. yeuch." His eyes dangled. The stench was awful. "You smell," said Lapinette, "It's you rabbits that smell," retorted the monster. "I am Mould of Mould Manor." His eyes swung on their flaps, "Where's that?" asked Lapinette. Mould monster laughed long and hard. "Under your paws. I live under the shallow streets. I live under the cobbles. I live on apartment walls. I live in wood, cardboard, tiles... " "That's enough living," shouted the Wabbit. "Go back where you came from." Vile odours swirled round the bridge, Lapinette held her nose, The Wabbit tried to move but he was stuck in its mouldy grip. "I'm going to grow and grow and grow!" yelled the mould. The Wabbit's eyes watered. His face turned red. He started to sneeze. "Gotcha," said the mould. Lapinette spoke under her breath, "We need vinegar and lots of it." The Wabbit wiped away the tears. "We're in enough of a pickle already."

3. The Wabbit and the Smell on the Bridge

They strolled down to the iron bridge. The Wabbit had always liked it there, despite the general grottiness and disparate population. He sniffed. "It's here too." Lapinette scowled. "It's often pongy here!" The Wabbit sniffed again and strolled on. Then it was on them. A cloud of such noxiousness it was hard to believe. Multicoloured vapours surrounded them. They might even have been pretty, but it certainly looked like mould. The smell was appalling. It was more than musty. It was an appalling blend of wet hound and rancid cheese. The Wabbit covered his nose. Lapinette shrieked. "Poo, bum smell!" It was unusual for Lapinette to use any kind of bad language, but the Wabbit could only agree. "Smells like a thousand sweaty asses." Lapinette wrinkled her nose in disapproval. She pointed. "It comes from over there!" The Wabbit looked at where the river was marshy. Hundreds of mouldy jets poured liquid filth into the air accompanied by tuneless humming. "The devil take it," yelled the Wabbit. "Maybe you're right," shrieked Lapinette. "It is a monster." The Wabbit growled. "It's going to make an appearance." Lapinette shrank back. "And a credible one." The Wabbit grabbed Lapinette's paw and dragged her from the bridge. But the mouldy vapour followed them. Humming turned into a howl. Thick fumes surrounded them, ripe as tripe. "Let's get this drunken skunk!" shouted Lapinette.

2. The Wabbit in the Recording Studio

The Wabbit was really worried about the mould. He communicated his worry to Lapinette. Now Lapinette was really worried about the mould. She rightly said that mould could kill and should be eliminated at once. So together they passed by the nearby RAI recording studies to record a warning message. The Wabbit located himself in a recording booth and Lapinette lounged in a nearby seat. "Have you got your script?" The Wabbit flounced and said he didn't need one. "Everyone needs a script," said Lapinette. The Wabbit began. "About this, er um, mouldy old mould." Lapinette fell about laughing. "I told you so. Give it a proper name. We'll map it out, what do you want to communicate?" The Wabbit thought for a minute. "I want to alert everyone to the deadly dangers of mouldy old mould." "Why?" said Lapinette. "Because it's here and amidst us, getting up our noses with its spores." Lapinette smiled. "So Wabbit, what is there to fear but the smell of a damp rag?" "There's a monster!" yelled the Wabbit," I know it in my fur." Lapinette wanted the Wabbit to be more specific. "What can this monster possibly look like?" The Wabbit waved his arms. "Green and black and enormously furry!" Lapinette tried to draw the Wabbit out. "Do you mean this large furry green and black monster will pursue us through the streets by day and night?" The Wabbit stood up. "Not through the streets, by Binky. It knows the streets. It is the streets!"

1. The Wabbit and the Gloopeda Machine

The Wabbit rose early one morning and hopped down Via Po towards the river. He took a breath, but it wasn't the smell he was expecting. Normally he could gulp fresh air, mingled with the tang of the river. But all he could smell was drains. "It's like a thousand wet mops left in a corner for a year." He complained to himself bitterly, which was what he did when things didn't go exactly to plan. Then he saw the truck. It was very brightly coloured and the company name was emblazoned on every surface. "Hmm, Gariglio," he mused. "Never heard of it." He noticed mention of a web site, so he looked it up using his special glasses. He smiled. "I know what the truck is. It's a gloopeda gloopeda machine." A man with big boots came striding from around the corner. The Wabbit nodded to him and recalled an old conversation with a similar operative. "Torino is built on mould," he'd told the Wabbit. "More mould than you can shake a stick at." The Wabbit sniffed. He was allergic to mould. The early morning sun seemed to intensify the smell as if it knew. "Time to move on," he told himself, He hunched his shoulders and continued his walk to the river. But the smell of mould in his nostrils persisted and when he reached the bottom of the cobbled street it was still there. "Lapinette shall hear of this," he murmured. "She knows all about mould." 

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The team sat down at an unfamiliar caffè just to try it. It was a bit strange because the tables didn't quite fit, and they had to sit round a pole that held the umbrella. But they all laughed and said it was an adventure. Skratch wasn't particularly late. He held Sebby the Garibaldi Hat - although Sebby was trying to escape. "I found this hat in this street," he meaowed. "Let go!" yelled Sebby, "I can get around on my own." Skratch laid Sebby down on a chair. "What sort of adventure did you just have?" he purred. "In my opinion," said Wabsworth, "Lukacs and his concept of realism would have been superseded by adding a hat." Lapinette laughed. "You felt Lukacsian theory was missing the vital inclusion of hats?" Wabsworth was perfectly serious. "Hats would have introduced the note of realism that he needed for completion," The Wabbit was not to be outdone. "Plenty of hats in The Leopard." "You're quite right Wabbit," said Lapinette. "It was Piero Tosi who brought us authentic and exquisite hats of the period. Realism was never so well defined." Sebby giggled. "I'm a hat, a hat, an authentic and realistic red hat." He turned over and tried to coax money from passers by. "Donations for the cause!" Skratch grabbed him away. "We're forgetting spectacle and excess." Wabsworth grimaced. "The two are almost synonymous in discursive rapture." They all gasped. The Wabbit leaned back, "I wagered 50 euro on him in the 3.30 at Epsom." "Did he win?" asked Lapinette. She had a glint in her eye. "Yes, he did," winked the Wabbit. "Then you're paying," she chortled. Then they all threw their heads back and laughed and laughed. 

7. The Wabbit, and the Perilous Bridge

Sebby the Hat evaded everyone. The Wabbit and Lapinette tracked him down to a bridge across the River Dora. He was yelling, "You'll never take me alive!" He jumped onto the railings and balanced precariously. "He's going to top himself!" shouted the Wabbit. They made a grab for him, but he evaded capture and tottered on the slim railings. Lapinette was breathless. "Sebby, you've got to back to the Museum. This is no place for a Garibaldi hat."  He toppled over a little further and looked down. The Dora threshed. Spray reached the railings. He prepared to jump. "Sebby, you're a hat, not a nineteenth century anarchist." The Wabbit was bellowing above the sound of crashing water. "You can't stop me!" shouted Sebby. A strangely dressed man on a bicycle passed and he looked across. "Not another hat suicide." he mumbled. He cycled on his way. "It's safer in the museum," said Lapinette. "I hate the museum," responded Sebby. The Wabbit sighed and shook his head. "Oh, why don't you come with us?" Sebby grinned as best he could. "With you? On adventures?" Lapinette moved closer. "You have to behave yourself." "And respect authority," said the Wabbit. "Whose authority?" said Sebby with caution. "Mine!" The Wabbit and Lapinette spoke together. Lapinette inched further. "All right then," agreed Sebby. Lapinette grabbed him and tucked him under her frock. "Comfy," breathed Sebby.

6. The Wabbit and the Big Smash

The Wabbit wasn't expecting it. No sooner had he found glass cabinets when something forced the jeep off track. It might have been an old mortar or something as simple as a gust of wind from a window. They were thrown into the air. Sebby the Hat landed upside down on a window ledge. He complained. "This isn't even the right corridor. These are crockery wotnots. I hate fussy wotnots." The jeep lurched. The Wabbit hit a massive pane of glass and stopped. Lapinette's feet whacked the Wabbit on the nose. He held onto the steering wheel nonetheless as he tried to extricate the jeep from the fragments. "Sorry Wabbit!" The Wabbit groaned. "No particular problem." The din was something else. "We did get glassified," yelled Sebby, "I told you." The jeep settled. The noise died. The Wabbit sat upright. Lapinette's took her foot from his mouth. "This isn't even the right museum," she exclaimed. "It was when I tried to come in," replied the Wabbit. "Well, maybe it was the wrong roof." Lapinette picked shards of glass from her frock. "Get back in the jeep, Sebby." She surveyed the scene. "There will be Hell to pay." The Wabbit shook his head. "Think of it as a restructure. Everyone's doing it." Lapinette gripped Sebby on her lap. "Want me to drive, Wabbit?" "Can't do any harm," shrugged the Wabbit. Lapinette looked round again and passed Sebby across. "Not any more." 

5. The Wabbit and an Extraordinary Entry

The Wabbit changed vehicles because Wabbit 2 was always unfinished. He foresaw trouble and didn't want to damage Wab 1. He snuck along an unusual route, took a service lift, and emerged on the top floor of the Museum of the Risorgimento. Getting down was another matter. He decided to make an extraordinary entry in the hope no-one would believe it. Sebby the Hat had other ideas. "I'm home," he yelled and flew out of the jeep. Lapinette dived after him. "We have to sneak him back and then everything will go back to normal." Her voice was deafening in the still of the hall and the echo bounced down the staircase. There were never many visitors in the museum. The place was deserted. He span the steering wheel and despite the lack of grip the jeep swung to the left and dropped several feet. The engine roared as Lapinette managed to get a grasp of Sebby. She pirouetted and dropped back into the jeep with Sebby in tow. "I'm have the Cross of Military Valour you know." Sebby was more than pleased with himself. The Wabbit scowled. "I've heard enough! You're going back in your cabinet." Sebby the Hat squirmed from Lapinette's grasp, squeezed under the Wabbit's legs, and dropped from the other side of the jeep. "No! I'll never be glassified." The Wabbit slapped a paw to his forehead. "I thought my jokes were bad." Lapinette agreed. "They're woeful but his are worse."

4. The Wabbit and the Accidental Exit

In a second the Wabbit was in his jeep. Lapinette was driving. Sebby the Hat spun wildly in the air. Were they coming or going? The Wabbit hardly knew. He could see a lift intended for the metro but there was no metro in this part of the city. "I came to pick you up." Lapinette span the steering wheel. She just missed one of these awful scooters the Wabbit hated so much. "I was with a knight," said the Wabbit. Lapinette laughed. "Once a price always a prince." "But once a night is enough," replied the Wabbit in a manner that suggested the joke was worn out. "And this hat. It's all the hat's fault." The jeep flew into the air. It was easier to deal with cobbles that way. Sebby was delighted with the turn of events. He giggled with mirth. "What's so funny?" snapped the Wabbit. "I can't tell you off the top of my head," answered Sebby. He giggled again. "Wabbit, I thought you needed rescuing," said Lapinette. The Wabbit nodded grimly. "I did. I think your tour should end, Sebby." Sebby did one of his little dances. "That will be a thousand lire." Lapinette squealed. "Your out of date, Sebby. Anyway, where's the Wabbit's little radio and earphones?" "And my guidebook and brochures," added the Wabbit. Sebby the Hat whizzed back and forth. "That's the thing about hats. Always trying to cover things up." Lapinette couldn't help laughing. "What was your job in the army?" "Entertainer," said Sebby. The Wabbit could smell coffee. "Not catering?" he asked.