2. The Wabbit and the Fire Without Heat

The Wabbit received a crackly call on his walkie talkie. The Department was anxious for him to confirm, and he set off immediately. He spoke to no-one in particular. "I think it's that mission Wabsworth was on about." Wabsworth's voice chimed in. "The second one - and you should really terminate group calls properly." The Wabbit growled "Out," and shoved the radio in his back pocket. When he arrived, Lapinette was already investigating. The fire had ravaged a pub, but things appeared strange. "Oh. You got here at last." She didn't turn her head. The Wabbit scrambled on top of the borrowed fire truck. "I hope you got a chit for this." Lapinette's voice was cool. "In your filing cabinet, under "e". "For expenses?" asked the Wabbit. "For expedite this immediately," replied Lapinette. The Wabbit paused for a moment. "Isn't that ember hot?" he asked. "That's the funny thing," mused Lapinette. "This was a raging fire this morning, but none of the ashes are remotely warm." She waved a paw through the flames. Nothing happened. "As cold as death's chill hand." The Wabbit shuddered. "I prefer cold as a dead rabbit's nose." "Now that's creepy!" Lapinette smiled and looked worried at the same time. She pointed into the distance. Similar heaps of embers lay scattered. "It appears to be spreading." "And all of them as chilly as the moon?" grinned the Wabbit. Lapinette grunted. "Chillier."

1. The Wabbit and the Electronics Store

The Wabbit bumped into Wabsworth, his android double, outside the electronics store. "Are you on special offer?" joked Wabsworth. "Very funny," replied the Wabbit. He couldn't help noticing Wabsworth's new tattoo, just at the corner of his eye. "New tat?" he countered. "They're all the rage," laughed Wabsworth. "I can fade it out and back at the touch of an internal sensor. The tattoo became invisible and reappeared. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of permanence?" observed the Wabbit. Wabsworth selected his polychromatic programme. His tattoo flashed then switched off. "I get bored," he shrugged. The Wabbit's shoulders shook with mirth. "Any word from the Department?" Wabsworth guffawed. "You can have a choice of missions. A dull one with plenty of social and environmental meaning." He paused. The Wabbit's ears fluttered. "I've already sorted my stinky rubbish and been to the bottle bank." "Or you can choose a colourful mission with little or no social merit." The Wabbits ears rotated wildly. "The second one sounds good to me. Join us?" Wabsworth flashed his tattoo. "If you can't join them, beat them." The Wabbit laughed. "Your comedy subroutine is improving." Wabsworth leaned back. "I had a lot of fun with that." The Wabbit grimaced. "Let's go into the store. There might be gadgets." Wabsworth grinned and spread his paws. "I don't like the sound of it. Too much negative feedback." Then they laughed and laughed and laughed!

The Wabbit's famed Adventure Caffè

The team advanced on a new Adventure Caffè, which hadn't even been built yet. The Wabbit insisted that the Museo Nazionale di Risorgimento should have one and there was plenty of room. He'd picked out a suitable location and they were on their way to scout it out. Lapinette was so glad to see the Wabbit again, she threw herself at him, paws outstretched. The Wabbit maintained a stoic smile as was his way. Wabsworth showed obvious delight with the exhibition on the future of Torino and traced his paw along the calligraphy of various old adverts. A faint buzzing indicated he was storing them on his vast memory banks. What he intended to do with all the stuff he collected no-one knew, but his memory was huge and that didn't seem to matter. "Retrieval is everything," he murmured. Skratch was considering what kind of adventure the Wabbit just had. "Your ability to ingest or even engulf genres is amazing, Wabbit." The Wabbit smile was almost annoying. "It's a hybrid phenomenon of my own invention." Lapinette snorted. "High art and the Wabbit?" Wabsworth laughed and traced round an area in the display. "You set the paintings free through their own plasticity." Skratch agreed. "They left their boundaries behind." The Wabbit began to hop. Lapinette joined him. Soon they all hopped. "Are we free due to our own plasticity?" asked Lapinette. She rose gently and descended. The Wabbit stopped hopping. One by one they all became still. A dramatic hush fell. "We're certainly free of a drink until we build the new Caffè," whispered the Wabbit.

5. The Wabbit and Popular Opinion

The Wabbit shook his head and in conjunction with Tuccia, he thought of an idea. He'd canvass the viewers opinions. He borrowed a clipboard and did exactly that. He left Caravaggio's painting with an astronaut he'd just met and persuaded him to reframe and remount the painting. Then he allowed visitors to file past. In total he spoke with 180 visitors. The results were fascinating. Four people thought the astronaut was Caravaggio. Around half were convinced the Caravaggio painting was a fake but were unable to say why. Some eighty visitors held that the painting was indeed the original, pointing to the detail and fine brushwork. Two visitors had seen other versions in various countries, but liked this one better. One visitor thought that this was a fine copy using scan technology. All the same, he made a bid of several million for it. One was unhappy about his children seeing it and covered their eyes with a brochure. Another eight preferred the picture of the Wabbit but despite enquiries, couldn't find it. The Wabbit promised everyone the final results, but knew that although they were interesting, they were unsatisfactory. "Needs more research," he said. The astronaut nodded. "The last exhibit got a prosecco." "Coming up," grinned the Wabbit - and he called the bar. 

4. The Wabbit and Tuccia in the Window

"What are you up to Wabbit?" The Wabbit was fed up with waiting and took himself around the gallery. He was passing a famous sculpture that the Wabbit always called The Woman in the Window, but she was really known as Tuccia. "Nothing!" said the Wabbit cheerfully. "I've been watching you, Wabbit and you're definitely up to something." The Wabbit came clean. "I've been commissioned by the museum to see if visitors really know what they're talking about." Tuccia inclined her head. "Not many then." The Wabbit grinned. "I myself became a work of art in the process." "You think you're Ripley," said Tuccia. "From Alien?" questioned the Wabbit. "From Patricia Highsmith," smiled Tuccia. "As you well know, Wabbit." The Wabbit stuck his paws in his fur and shrugged. Now they heard voices from afar and the Wabbit went tense. "Are they looking for my image?" Tuccia listened. "Yes, and they're coming this way." They both froze. "Here he is," said an onlooker. "It's a moving exhibit. It's a miracle!" The Wabbit groaned. "I heard him," they yelled, "I heard him!" The onlookers were shouting with wild abandon. "Have some decorum," frowned Tuccia. "She speaks too," yelled the crowd, "A double miracle." The Wabbit was fed up. He addressed the gathering. "A miracle is primarily a Christian concept. But you can make us an offering." Tuccia laughed. "Go to the bar and get two glasses of prosecco." 

3. The Wabbit becomes the Picture

The Wabbit's fur could hold many things. But when he took out the object out, it became the original size. He struggled a bit, but he was in the right room and no-one was about. He offered the painting up then slapped a paw to his head. It was back to front. With a bit of effort, he righted it then attached the fixings. Finally, it was on the wall. He stood back. It looked as if it had always been there. Someone was coming so he turned to look at a different painting. An attendant passed it by as if it had always been there and disappeared into another room. "Phew," gasped the Wabbit. Then more people arrived and gathered around. They looked the painting up and down and discussed its merits. Then one saw him. The Wabbit froze flat against a wall. "Early depiction of a wabbit," said the viewer. "Late sixteenth or early seventeenth century," nodded another. "Just look at the brushwork." The studied him for a while. "The work of one of Caravaggio's students?" suggested another. "Lovely blues, just look at the pigment," said yet another. They gazed for a while. "Let's view the others and come back" said the first. They moved on. The Wabbit saw his chance and crept quietly away. The viewers returned but the wabbit had gone. "It's been stolen," they gasped, "raise the alarm." A frenzy broke out, but the Wabbit was far off in the cafeteria, sipping a Prosecco and chuckling. But his plan was far from complete ... 

2. The Wabbit and the Stolen Painting

The Wabbit made a sudden dash for the door and down the stairs. He was too fast for the waiter. Tucked under his arm, the painting threatened to escape, but the Wabbit secured it and carried on. He could hear cries behind him but ignored them. He scurried round the entrance and back into the museum. A handy corner afforded him a hiding place. Museum staff came and went. He could hear them as they searched for a missing painting. "Where is it?" shouted an irate attendant. "It's Just Stop Oil up to one of their idiot pranks," shouted another. There was confusion. There was yelling. There was consternation. The Wabbit smiled and shrank further into the corner. "I'm an international art thief," he grinned. Sirens wailed outside. "I seem to have caused an incident," thought the Wabbit. He activated a switch under his fur and all but vanished. Voices became louder. "What's been stolen?" asked a policeman. "We're looking for it," said an attendant. "Looking for what?" said the policeman." The attendant shrugged. "We don't know, we just know it's missing." The policeman rocked back and forward on his heels. "What's it called?" The attendant shrugged. The Curator loomed into sight. "Nothing's missing. The entire museum has been searched. Nothing has gone at all." The Wabbit grinned. His plan was going well.  

1. The Wabbit and the Quick Hop Through

The Wabbit was having a hop through the Palazzo Barberini Museum. It was full of fantastic old pictures which he fully appreciated - so he'd told no-one otherwise his friends would give him chapter and verse. He especially liked Judith beheading Holofernes by Caravaggio - which he found a little horrific. "Theatrically lit," he murmured. Then he smiled. He found his way to the museum caffè, which was quite a grand affair. He looked up. "Solar panels?" he mused. "Most intriguing." He mentally placed the museum on his private list, then called for a prosecco. "Subito, Commander," said a waiter and indicated a seat. "No-one is supposed to know I'm here," said the Wabbit. "I won't tell a soul," replied the waiter. The Wabbit sat down. He felt peckish. "Do you have a salad club sandwich?" he asked. "Best in town," said the waiter. The sandwich was huge. He devoured it with gusto and beckoned for the waiter to return. "Did Caravaggio like sandwiches?" "Oh yes," replied the waiter, "especially artichoke panini." The Wabbit indicated he would like one. "It's called a Caravaggio Club," said the waiter. He brought one and another glass of prosecco. He paused. "Commander, about that painting poking out of your fur?" "My goodness," said the Wabbit. "I thought something was uncomfortable."

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The gang was on its way to one of the many Caffès in the shopping centre. Lapinette was in a good mood, and she bounded into the Wabbit's paws. "What was that for a sort of adventure?" she shouted. The Wabbit was in good humour too. "It was a mythical adventure, full of mystery." Lapinette was full of beans, and she yelled, "Our stories are the principle conduit of mythology today." Skratch meaowed long and hard. "That's a synoptic historical generalisation if ever there was one." Wabsworth laughed. "Symbolic?" "Skratch paused. "No, synoptic." The Wabbit looked cynical. "Are you referring to the gospels." Skratch was nonplussed. "I mean it as pulling things together into a common point of view." "Mathew, Mark, Luke and John," said Lapinette. "Haud the cuddy 'til ah get on," added the Wabbit. "Wabsworth giggled. "That was synoptic." Skratch considered. "I think I know what you mean. Herzog said we have no adequate images." Lapinette laughed again. "Warner Herzog ate his shoe." "Les Blanc was being disingenuous," said Skratch, "The production of your images, the Kelpie, demands new images. Otherwise extinction will occur, and the Kelpie will bring it." Lapinette's mouth fell open. The Wabbit interjected. "If I don't get a drink in a minute, we'll all be extinguished."

6. The Wabbit and up ride with the Kelpie

The Wabbit was returning home by boat and he thought it was all over. Kelpies were gone - as were Nessie and the Agents of the Wabbit. He congratulated himself on a job well done. He thought he'd continue down the Tiber as far as it went. But without warning one of the Kelpies appeared in ghostly form. It shimmered in a mist of its own making. "Want to ride on my back, Commander?" The Wabbit knew better and shook his head. But he smiled. "You were a good opponent, Kelpie. Now go back to the watery depths." The Kelpie shook his giant mane and sprayed water across the Wabbit. "You haven't seen the last of us. We can bide our time." The Wabbit grinned. "Bide on then." The Kelpie began to sink to the bottom of the lake until only small bubbles remained. But then he spotted turbulence and heard a groan and a whinny. The Wabbit knew the mythical creatures would return. He started to think. If he could make an alliance with the Agents of Rabit it could be the start of something bigger. The engines changed note and the boat increased speed. Soon he would be home. He leaned on the rail and sang a sea shanty - although he knew no seafarer in their right mind would sing one in these modern times. "Say goodbye to all your dear kin, for they hate to see you go. In your young prime to this place of mine. In the still loch far below."

[Up ride with the kelpie]

5. The Wabbit sets a Wicked Trap

The Wabbit set the trap and the Kelpies fell for it. Night came. Two Agents set out into the depths of the lake and the Kelpies followed. The Agents swam and swam until they came to a split in the waters. They looked back. They felt hot breath on their cotton tails and swam faster. The Kelpies laughed. They thought the Agents were easy prey and they looked forward to dinner. Without warning the Agents swam in different directions and a curtain of water fell behind them. "Where have they gone?" asked a Kelpie. They continued along the tunnel, but the Agents had disappeared. The Kelpies searched and searched. The Agents were nowhere to be found. "We've been tricked and cheated of our prey," said a Kelpie. "Let's go back and find that Wabbit." They turned once, they turned twice. The way back was gone. "It's this way," said a Kelpie. "No, it's that way," said the other. They were trapped by the lake. The lake began to grumble and moan and thresh. No matter what way they swam they were caught. "We're jiggered," said a Kelpie. They sank to the bottom. "We'll bide our time here," said the other. "Our chance will come again." They settled on the bottom. Their manes spread out. "We'll get that Wabbit," they said together, "We'll get him and get him good." Before long they lay quiet in the deepest part of the lake. Waiting.

[Kelpie by Adrian at Pixabay]

4. The Wabbit and the Search for Prey

The Wabbit went on a search for suitable prey although he knew little about how to handle the situation. He called in at a deconsecrated church he knew was likely to harbour some Agents of Rabit - and to his surprise found Lovely Lapinette. She was deep in a conversational briefing with Major Spitlove, his double agent. When he explained his plan, they were both horrified. "On no account!" said Spitlove. "No way. No prey!" shrieked Lapinette. Now the Wabbit had no intention of sacrificing Agents of Rabit to the Kelpie - even if they were his mortal enemies. But the plan was risky. "We just have to persuade the Kelpie they have their prey," grinned the Wabbit, "and then they'll chase them through the tunnel to Scotland." Major Spitlove was not convinced. Neither was Lapinette. She shook her head. "Too much can go wrong." The Wabbit paused. "The tunnel has several tributaries. The Agents will branch through them at the last moment, and we'll block up the main tunnel behind them. Then free fish for all." Major Spitlove nodded. "It's a plan." Lapinette grimaced. "You're sure about this, Wabbit."  The Wabbit was elated. Nessie assures me it's all in place." "You didn't say anything about Nessie," groaned Lapinette. She slapped a paw to her forehead. "Who's Nessie?" asked Spitlove. "A long-necked plesiosaur from Petershead," laughed the Wabbit.

3. The Wabbit and the Kelpies

They waited for the kelpies and sure enough they came. It wasn't as dark as they expected, and they could see every pore in the flanks of the sea horses. "I'll away out and meet them," said Nessie. With the Wabbit hanging round his neck, he plunged through the lake. "Ho Kelpies," he cried. The Kelpies were sinewy and made not a splash as they carved through the water. "Have you brought us prey, Nessie? Our sweeping is nearly done." The Wabbit shuddered. "This isnae prey lads, this is ma wee friend the Wabbit. He'll find ye prey such as you've never seen." The Wabbit grinned weakly. The Kelpies were huge, and they snorted and snickered and neighed. "We're a little peckish." The way they spoke together was uncanny. "Would you like to climb on our backs," they said in unison. "I don't think so," said the Wabbit, "but I know some enemies that would be foolish enough to do it." One kelpie laughed. "We'll see your enemies in hell." The other laughed too. "We won't be prayin for them. They won't be preying for us." He giggled at his own pun. "Meet you tomorrow at the midnight hour when the trees rise up and the water is black," nodded the Wabbit. The Kelpies grunted and groaned and vanished beneath the water. Nessie turned to the Wabbit. "Hiv ye goat any enemies handy?" The Wabbit shrugged. "I think I can scare some up."

[Kelpies by a countryman of mine - David Connelly. Kelpies]

2. The Wabbit and the Lost Lake

The Wabbit stared and stared as out of a lake came a prehistoric monster. This one he knew as Nessie, but he was hardly expecting him. "Och laddie, whit are ye daein' here?" The Wabbit grinned. "More to the point Nessie, what are you doing here?" The water frothed around his fearsome head. "Am on my holidays." The Wabbit expected nothing less. "Where are we?" Nessie drew himself up to his full height. "Its a natural reserve on the Tiber, sonny. Tevere Farfa. There a wee tunnel no one knows. Would you like a lecture?" The Wabbit shrugged and declined. Nessie continued. "Ah came here for some peace an quiet awa from all the Scottish havering." The Wabbit shrugged. "What are you doing at then end of my tube?" "Whit tube?" The Wabbit looked behind him. There was no sign of tube, shopping centre, traffic or anything else. "Maybe you're part of the legend, sonny?" Nessie shook water from his jaws. But the Wabbit was interested. "Legend?" "Sometimes on a dark and moonless night," said Nessie, "the great cry of the Kelpie can be heard." The Wabbit nodded. "They sweep the surface clean," continued Nessie, "and then they bathe in the crystal clear waters with their prey." The Wabbit laughed. "Have you seen them?" Nessie growled. "Aye, but no for long. They eat their prey and disappear beneath the water." The Wabbit raised an eyebrow. "Is that it?" Nessie shuddered. "Except for the farting." 

1. The Wabbit and the Shopping Tube

The Wabbit was taking a walk through a shopping centre he didn't know, when he spotted a strange tube. He investigated and found it was designed for children to plunge down three floors. There were no children around. Most found it far too scary and they'd decamped to the phone shop. The Wabbit wondered if he could try it. He looked to right and left, put a euro in the slot and poised himself at the top. He looked down, shrugged his shoulders and took off. It was hot and the steel took some of his fur off. But he whizzed down, twirling as he went. He got quicker and quicker and saw the bottom coming up fast. There was a whirl of shops. He couldn't stop. He span, rotated and gyrated towards them, then through them. Shoppers leaped out of the way as the Wabbit tumbled in the middle of displays. A manager shot out from a doorway. "Stop, stop!" he cried. But the Wabbit could do nothing. It was as if an invisible force propelled him onward. He mouthed apologies as he went. He saw a window and there was little else he could do. He hunched a shoulder towards it and with a grunt and a splinter he shot through the glass. For a moment there was traffic. But this gave way to a watery, pastoral scene of unusual dimensions. "What the binky is this?" said the Wabbit.