5. Touch and Go for the Wabbit

The Wabbit stared down. He could see his body in the wreckage and he could hear voices. "Clear!" The Wabbit wasn't feeling clear at all. The voices were shouting. "What's your name?" Suddenly the Wabbit saw himself signing autographs at Wabbit-Con. But the more he signed his name, the less he could remember it. "Clear!" There it was again. The Wabbit watched as he signed Clear on a programme. "We're losing him. Again!" The Wabbit felt a shudder and the voices got louder. "Do you know where you are?" The Wabbit saw his younger self hopping along a stony beach. "Loch Lomond," he murmured. He heard a flat electronic whine that just wouldn't stop. "He's gone," said a voice. The Wabbit watched himself hop into the loch. "Epinephrine. Stat!" The Wabbit sank beneath the water. The loch felt cold and tangles of weed stretched out to grasp his paws. "Again. Clear!" The Wabbit looked up through water that shimmered with a clear green light. Now he made out a quiet voice. "It's over." "No," said another. Something whacked his body with the force of a water cannon and he reached for the surface and kicked. The Wabbit gasped and spluttered as faces swam between him and the light. "Welcome back, Commander." The Wabbit blinked. Everyone was looking down at him. "What's up?" said the Wabbit. "Is it my turn to buy drinks?"

4. The Wabbit and a Touch of Menace

Inside the Main Hall, special guests gathered for the preview of Wabbit Con. "Ah Wabsworth," said the Wabbit, I hope I'm on that list." Wabsworth waved his clipboard. "My list is blank. I'll write you in and you can be first." The Wabbit smiled and viewed the hall. "I must say the Department has done well." Lapinette agreed but did not say she had routed cash from the Wabbit's Dinosaur Fund to pay for refreshments. The Wabbit relaxed and watched adventure stills on the big screen. But through light jazz playing from the sound system, drifted a conversation between two fans dressed as Lapinette. "Where are you from, darling?" "Los Angeles, honey." "How fabulous. I'm from London." "I love London. Say, can you hear a ticking?" "No, it must be part of the music." "Well it's going right through my head." The Wabbit swung and tuned his ears to fans dressed as Ice Mice. "I do like jazz," said one, "but the percussion isn't right." "Do you mean that ticking?" "Yes, I can't get rid of it. It's all I can hear." The Wabbit turned to Lapinette. "Have you got a ticking noise?" Lapinette frowned and listened hard. "It sounds like an oven timer." The Wabbit sprung in the air and yelled at the top of his voice. "Free aperitivi in the basement!" In the stampede that followed, he pushed Lapinette under the jeep. The Wabbit heard the roar and saw the flash before everything went black ...

3. The Wabbit and Wabbit-Con

Lapinette had dragged the Wabbit for a hop to the Medieval Castle, but it was more crowded than usual. "Passes please!" said a familiar voice. "What in the Binky for?" growled the Wabbit. "You have to have a pass," said Skratch the Cat, "or you can't come in." Lapinette grinned maliciously. "It's for Wabbit-Con. Your fans are arriving from all over." The Wabbit looked all around. "No-one tells me a thing." "It's a Department PR initiative," said Lapinette. "Then I don't need a pass," said the Wabbit, "because I'm the Wabbit." Skratch scrutinised the Wabbit from ears to toe. "How do I know you're the real Wabbit? You might be a fan." "Then how do I know you're the real Skratch?" frowned the Wabbit. "Because today I'm the Cat's Pyjamas," said Skratch. The Wabbit spoke loudly. "I order you to let me in." "No pass, no admission," said Skratch, as he casually nodded a Wabbit fan through. The Wabbit hopped in fury and yelled, "I can prove I'm the Wabbit!" "OK," said Skratch, "let's have it." The Wabbit thought. "I'm the one that sent you to film classes." Skratch smiled an annoying smile. "Everyone knows that - and it's in the journalist press pack." "Oh all right," sighed the Wabbit, "I'll buy a pass." "Pre-orders only," said Skratch, "available from the Pet Shop in Corso Svizzera." The Wabbit scowled, jumped and shrugged at exactly the same time. Skratch glanced at Lapinette. "He just might be the Wabbit." Lapinette pulled an extra pass from her fur. "I'll make sure he behaves." "If you can do that," laughed Skratch. "he's not the Wabbit."

2. The Wabbit & the Pure Hop FanBots

The Wabbit and Wabsworth headed for the tram, but when it came to a halt, green FanBots flooded out. The Wabbit sighed. "You know everything about this, Wabsworth, don't you?" "I'm an android with a mammoth memory," said Wabsworth. "Then who?" asked the Wabbit tersely. Wabsworth paused and a smile flickered across his face. "These are Pure Hop FanBots." The Wabbit shook his head and murmured, "Why?" Wabsworth kept an eye on the FanBots' approach and elaborated. "The FanBots of the Pure Hop Tendency do not approve of the status quo." "Well, Qui, Quo, Qua," flounced the Wabbit. Wabsworth paid no attention and continued. "The Pure Hoppers are coming to WabbitCon to protest." The Wabbit's eyes rose so high they reached his ears. "They do not consider you a personality, Commander," said Wabsworth. "You are the Liberator who will lead them to the Promised Hay." "I will not," moaned the Wabbit, "I'm busy." "Excuse me," said a Pure Hopper, "that is a good costume and you wear it well." The Wabbit clenched his paws and tried very hard to be civil. "Thank you," he nodded. The FanBot looked up. "But the lettering isn't quite right." Wabsworth detected the start of a low growl, so he interrupted. "It's nearly Ferragosto Holiday and all the costumiers are on vacation." The FanBot whirred his fan. "Where can we find the Great Leader?" "He took a small vacation," snapped the Wabbit.
[In Italy, Qui, Quo and Qua are Donald Duck's nephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie.]

1. The Wabbit and the FanBots

"There they are now," said Wabsworth. "Don't turn round, they'll spot us." The Wabbit tried not to look. "Who did you say they were?" "They're FanBots." said Wabsworth. The Wabbit looked quizzical. "What kind of FanBots?" Wabsworth sighed a deep sigh. "They're your FanBots actually. And so they're mine too - by default." The Wabbit squeezed his eyes to slits and turned slightly. "What the Binky are they doing?" Wabsworth had been quick to investigate. "They're coming to Wabbit-Con and they're desperate to even glimpse you." The Wabbit shuddered but Wabsworth continued. "They worship the very ground you hop on." "Tell me it isn't true," groaned the Wabbit. But Wabsworth was the Wabbit's android double and he was keen on the truth. "They know everything about you. Everything." At that moment a FanBot called out. "Hello fellow fans! Can you tell us where the Wabbit eats?" The Wabbit adopted a funny voice and, without hesitation, named an establishment he hated. "The Wabbit eats at a sausage restaurant in Mirafiore." A FanBot came close and his voice shook. "You ... look so much like the Wabbit." "We're big fans," shrugged the Wabbit. "Perhaps His Wabbitness is nearby!" shouted a FanBot and they scurried around, looking. Wabsworth intervened. "You will never find the Wabbit." The FanBots looked distraught and moaned gently. Wabsworth gestured to thin air. "The Wabbit will find you."

The Wabbit, Lapinette and Old Times

The Wabbit's paw snuck into Lapinette's and she smiled. "Looks like we're hopping down the very same street." "On the sunny side," laughed the Wabbit. "I prefer my streets sunny side up," said Lapinette. "As do I," nodded the Wabbit. Lapinette hopped with delight. "Do you remember when we first met?" The Wabbit was tentative. "I do," he said, "but it was dark." "That," said Lapinette, "was because you were locked in a luggage locker at the rail terminal." The Wabbit smirked slightly. "I was protecting stolen goods as valuable evidence." Lapinette hopped, skipped and giggled. "You locked yourself in and you'd still be there if it wasn't for my swift intervention." The Wabbit caught a mental glimpse of his skeletal remains. "It was all under control." Lapinette fluttered her eyes. "Your radio had no batteries and there was a railway strike." "Mmm," murmured the Wabbit. "Then it was just as well you had a fur dresser's appointment there." Lapinette thought for a second. "I've still got the scissors I borrowed to lever the hinges." "Are they the ones with the red handles?" asked the Wabbit. "Puce," replied Lapinette. The Wabbit looked relieved because he regularly used bent scissors to prise open containers. "Anyway, what did we get up to after that?" "We had adventures," shrugged Lapinette. "How many, would you say?" queried the Wabbit. Lapinette was emphatic. "A thousand."

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The team gathered and waited for Skratch the Cat. Eventually he hove into sight with a giant wave and a shout. "Now what was that for a rip roaring adventure?" "It was detectively woofy," said Arson Fire, the Greyhound. Lapinette giggled and looked at the Wabbit. "You think you're Sam Spade?" The Wabbit effected a drawl. "I kept putting two and two together but there were so many twos I stopped counting." Skratch meaowed pleasantly. "It wasn't about the money and it wasn't about the gold." Wabsworth looked across at the Wabbit. "So what was it about?" "It was about the journey," said the Wabbit. Wabsworth looked disappointed. "So the Dinosaur Fund made nothing?" The Wabbit smirked. He drew a shiny object from his fur and set it on the table. "I wouldn't say that exactly." Now Skratch pounced. "I knew it. You kept the Bratwurst Bullion!" The Wabbit shook his head. "It got stuck in my fur." "I'll take charge of it," said Wabsworth reaching for the Gold Bullion Hot Dog. Lapinette made a mental note. "That's Good Delivery Bullion, even with unorthodox packaging." "Not to mention cooking," barked Arson Fire. "Well, it's all the money I have at the minute," said the Wabbit, and I'm thirsty." Skratch put his paw in his fur and rummaged. "Maybe I can spare five euro for a fellow traveller." The Wabbit's 28 teeth flashed in the sun. "I'll have a carrot aperitivo with sparkling gold flakes please." "So will I," said Lapinette. "And me," said Arson Fire. Wabsworth pulled out a requisition book. "Does that aperitivo have a name?" "Macwabbit's Gold," meaowed Skratch.

13. The Wabbit's Finance Restitution

A clapping of wings heralded Parakalo the Dove. He hurtled to their meeting place from the best blue sky he could arrange at short notice. At exactly the same time, the Wabbit and Lapinette shimmered in from a productive past. Parakalo felt obliged to be formal, so he spread his wings and hovered. The Wabbit opened the bag. "I'm returning what rightfully belongs here." Parakalo cooed softly. "To whom shall I deliver it?" A silence fell and then the Wabbit murmured. "I trust your judgement in the matter." "How much is there?" asked Parakalo. "Enough to run a country for a while," said Lapinette, who had made a careful note of the amount, denominations and serial numbers. "There's only one thing," said the Wabbit with a grimace. Another silence fell. "Money's like a gun," he said. "It smells of its history." Lapinette thought that was very sage but Parakalo merely sniffed. "I can smell hot dogs, Bratwurst to be exact." "So can I," sniffed Lapinette. "It must have got on my fur," sighed the Wabbit. Lapinette was thoughtful. "The Dinosaur Fund got caught up in something smellier than we thought." "The road to smell is paved with good intentions," said the Wabbit. Lapinette gave a wry grin. "But we had to go to smell and back." Parakalo looked serious. "Now the banks have got smell to pay." Then they looked at each other and laughed and laughed.

12. The Wabbit makes Good Time

Just as the Wabbit and Arson Fire jumped on board, Quantum departed. With Captain Jenny on the footplate there were no half measures. Quantum flipped to Slipstream Drive and the city dissolved to a sea of banks and beer cellars. "Let's get out of here?" shrugged the Wabbit. Lapinette watched until things stopped shimmering. "It's our money?" "Sure is," said the Wabbit. "How much?" asked Lapinette. "I haven't counted," said the Wabbit ... and he sniffed. "But there's another smell. It's familar." Arson Fire barked once. "Aaargos." The Wabbit paused because Arson Fire was more than he seemed. "The money smells of Argos, the hound," said Arson. The Wabbit wheeled round and yelled down the corridor. "Set new course 132'." Jenny's voice echoed back. "What day?" "Same time as we left," said the Wabbit. "But where are we going now?" asked Wabsworth. The Wabbit stamped a foot. "We're returning the money that isn't ours." Only Arson Fire appeared to have a clue what on earth was going on and he watched the Wabbit intently. "Wabsworth!" shouted the Wabbit. "Get Parakalo on the blower." "No can do," yelled Jenny from the footplate, "we're in slipstream." The Wabbit sighed. "Drop out, we're still in last week." Quantum's engines whined to a halt and they hung somewhere vague as the Wabbit spoke to Parakalo, the dove. "I wasn't expecting a call, Commander," he cooed, "where are you speaking from?" "Last Tuesday," said the Wabbit.
[Argos is Odysseus faithful dog, a greyhound.]

11. The Wabbit and the Money Kitchen

The Wabbit burst through the door at the top of the stairs. Arson Fire scampered to the far end of the kitchen and maintained a low growl as the Wabbit pointed his automatic at the boss sausage. Two sausage henchmen looked unfazed and continued to launder what money they had. But the boss was furious and he yelled, "Don't you know who I am?" "You're a silly sausage," remarked the Wabbit. He sniffed the air. "You have something of mine." He sniffed again. "and something of someone else too." The boss sausage snarled. "I'm Hit Sausage and it all belongs to me," Arson Fire laughed with a howling that equalled the Hound of the Baskervilles and notes flew around as the Wabbit savagely kicked the bag. "All this money in one container isn't safe but I'll take the risk." He seized the bag and backed towards the door. Hit Sausage started after the Wabbit, but Arson Fire got in his way and bit him on the nose. "Aaagh, get them!" yelled the Boss. But his henchmen were too cooked. "They're the Extra Wurst," shrugged the Wabbit and he fired a few rounds into the ceiling because he thought it might be fun. Together with Arson Fire he barked and barked hs way to the street. Arson Fire slithered to a halt. "Where now Commander?" "We have a train to catch," said the Wabbit. "I'm hungry," said Arson Fire. "You had sausages," laughed the Wabbit. The city echoed to pounding paws, as they vanished with enormous speed. "This bag's heavy," yelled the Wabbit. "We'll buy a trolley," barked Arson Fire.

10. The Wabbit and the Hot Dog Club

It was quieter than expected. Soft piano jazz mixed with a chinking of glasses and money. "Members?" asked the barman with the top hat. "We're temporary," said Arson Fire. "Just passing through," said the Wabbit. The barman puffed at a cigar the size of a sausage. "Check in your hot dogs here." "Grrrrr grrr grrr," snarled Arson Fire. The barman didn't bat an eyelid. "As long as you're here, your money's here." "Just the job!" said the Wabbit. "You can certainly help us. We're looking for a special hot dog consignment." "What kind of special?" asked the barman. "Sentimental value," smiled the Wabbit. He hopped over to the pianist and pulled from his fur the lunch vouchers he'd saved for his vacation. "No elevator music," he whispered. The pianist hit the keys with vigour. "Think I'll come around," he crooned. "... when the money's gone." Arson Fire kept a firm grip of his hot dog and barked at the barman. "Perhaps you saw a hot dog liquidisation?" The barman leaned back. "The Hot Dog Laundry. It books work outings here. The staff like hot dog smoothies." Arson Fire looked at the Wabbit in horror but the Wabbit merely smiled and hopped close to the barman. "What better," he drawled, "than the slow release of hot dog fibre into the bloodstream?" The barman found himself staring at the wrong end of an automatic. "For the sake of your health," said the Wabbit, "tell us where to find the Laundry brigade." The barman merely gestured with his head. "Upstairs ..."

9. The Wabbit and El Dorado's Place

In a less than salubrious location, the Wabbit and Arson Fire approached a premises known as El Dorado. But locals knew it variously as the Golden Handshake, the Golden Digger and the Golden Parachute. The hostess hardly looked at them and effected a special interest in polishing glasses. "Name?" she barked. "Wabbit," replied the Wabbit. The hostess paused. "Going?" The Wabbit frowned and nodded, "inside." The hostess flicked her hair. "Stay?" "Brief, "said the Wabbit. "Hmmph," said the hostess and she turned to Arson Fire. "Name?" "Arse," blinked Arson Fire. The hostess nodded approvingly and spoke gently. "Business?" Arson shook his head. "Pleasure." He blinked some more. "Stay?" asked the hostess, fluttering her eyes. "Indefinite," said Arson. The hostess turned to give the Wabbit a withering glance. "Credit?" The Wabbit was about to say 'cash', but Arson Fire interrupted. "Undated Government Hot Dogs." "Now that," said the hostess, "will do very nicely indeed." She looked from Arson to the Wabbit and then her eyes flicked back. "Are you vouching for the strange furry one?" "I take care of him," said Arson. The hostess nodded again. "Any weapons?" The Wabbit patted his fur and adopted a lop sided grin that usually worked. "Just a Makarov automatic." The hostess smiled for the first time. "You might need it in here ..."

8. The Wabbit and the Golden Sausage

Acting without any particular authority, Jenny, Skratch and Wabsworth seized the Riverboat and sailed to Bamberg to pick up the Wabbit. There the Wabbit searched in his fur, then grabbed the sausage with a pair of cooking tongs. Streams of flame shot from Arson Fire and enveloped it - but nothing happened. The Wabbit nodded. "The sausage is gold all right." "You want hotter heat?" asked Arson Fire." "How hot can you get?" asked Lapinette. "Prrrropane hot," said the greyhound. "Too destructive," said the Wabbit as he peered for markings. And there they were -  999, Frankfurt am Main, 2015. The Wabbit mused. "My Dinosaur Fund got diverted." Lapinette started to hum a song and the Wabbit picked it up. "Gold, Gold, Gold, they just gotta have that gold." Lapinette kept her eyes on the golden sausage. "They'll do anything for gold, won't they?" The Wabbit sniffed and shook his head. "Not this gold." Arson Fire barked suddenly. "Why not?" "Because it still has a trace of Dinosaur Fund." The Wabbit suddenly whacked the gold sausage with his tongs. Sonorous music rang out and played a familiar snatch from Taxman Blues. Now the Wabbit's teeth flashed in a sinister smile. "One thing about gold is - you gotta dig it!" He snapped a paw and laid down the golden sausage to let it cool. "Where to Commander?" called Jenny. "El Dorado?" shrugged the Wabbit.

7. The Wabbit and the Bankers' Run

It all happened in an instant. Without waiting, the Wabbit grabbed the Trophy and Lapinette seized her winnings. Give a Flux, the white greyhound, snatched what he could and Arson Fire tightened his grip on his hot dog. "Run!" shouted the Wabbit and he loped off at speed. "What odds?" gasped the Wabbit. "Hundrrred to One," barked Arson Fire, "can we keep the Trophy? I won it." "It's quite awful," yelled Lapinette. "And it weighs a ton," yelled the Wabbit. Not far behind, Woof Hearted soared through the streets "What's that brrratwurst made of?" he growled. So the Wabbit sniffed, then sniffed again. "It smells ... of my Dinosaur Fund." He knew at that instant what it was - because the Trophy was much too heavy and sturdy for a competition prize. "It's gold," said the Wabbit. "It's probably a Good Delivery Bratwurst," suggested Lapinette. "Look, I'm not a Chinese take away," scoffed the Wabbit. "That's gold bullion to go," replied Lapinette. Even at the Wabbit's considerable velocity, Lapinette could see his brow knit into a ball. "Four hundred golden ounces in the shape of a sausage." The Wabbit clasped the Trophy fiercely to his fur and quickened his pace. "How much do you think?" "Half a million," gasped Lapinette. The Wabbit loped faster. "Let's find some quiet spot." "What then?" asked Arson Fire. "We cook the sausage," said the Wabbit.
[Banker is slang for a greyhound that regularly delivers wins.]

6. The Wabbit & the Bratwurst Trophy

The greyhounds gathered in Nürnberg for the start of the big race. During preparations, they talked of current affairs and the high cost of tripe. But when the Tannoy crackled, they crouched in their starting positions and waited silently. Without warning, smoke burst from Lapinette's automatic and the dogs took off like rockets. Arson Fire belched flame and took a slim lead, but the others gained ground. "It's Arson Fire by a nose, as they go into the far turn," said the Tannoy, "then it's Give a Flux, then Woof Hearted." The Wabbit watched with wry amusement because Arson Fire still had the hot dog between its teeth. "How much did you wager?" asked Lapinette. "Just a flutter," said the Wabbit. "Five euro straight bet on Arson Fire." Lapinette wrinkled her nose. "Treble Forecast ... Arson, Woof then Flux." "How much?" asked the Wabbit. Lapinette smiled as she watched Arson Fire clear the back straight, then chuckled as Woof Hearted charged past Give a Flux. "A month's salary." "Winnings incurred on official Departmental business," shrugged the Wabbit, "are to be submitted with relevant paperwork." "This is a private job," said Lapinette, mentally counting her winnings. The Tannoy boomed.  "Arson Fire first, Woof Hearted second and Give a Flux third." "Bravo," shouted Lapinette and she threw her arms in the air. It was then that the Tannoy crackled. "Owing to a hot dog distraction, the judges are reviewing the race ... "
[Flutter: (UK) A minor bet for amusement. Tannoy: a Scottish trade name, which gave it's name to large space loudspeaker systems ]

5. The Wabbit and a Dog called Fire

On the advice of the Captain, the Wabbit and Lapinette scaled a tall steeple in the suburb of Haarschnitt. There was a chance they might spot Arson Fire, the greyhound. But just as they were about to give up, they heard a snarl and smelled combustion. "Er-ow wow wow. Er ow wow wow," said Arson Fire in with a combination of growls and vowels. The giant hot dog remained clenched in the greyhound's teeth and flame streamed continuously from its rear end. The Wabbit was clueless about what to do next, so he made a strange whistling noise and said, "Here boy." This met with a terrifying snarl as Arson Fire gripped the hot dog tightly. So the Wabbit called across to Lapinette. "What did he say?" Lapinette looked Arson Fire in the eyes then said, "He wants to know if you have any raw green tripe."  Lapinette was often good at strange things and the Wabbit knew better than to ask. "He'd like to know your name, strange furry one," said Lapinette. The Wabbit stared at the greyhound. "Wabsy," he said, "May I call you Arse?" Arson Fire sighed and turned to Lapinette. "I'm in a rrrrrace." "Wow er wow wow ... wow?" asked Lapinette. "The Brrrrratwurst Challenge in Nürrrrrnberg," woofed Arson Fire, "I'm betting on myself to win." "Is that allowed?" barked Lapinette. "It's not barrrred," said Arson Fire, "and I'm going to clean up." "Odds?" Lapinette made a dog sound between her teeth. "No-one knows me," grunted Arson Fire," "I'll get a hundrrrred to one." The Wabbit ran some math and smiled. "Consider us promoters..."

4. The Wabbit and the Riverboat Affair

It was a chilly day in Frankfurt and the wind from the Main ruffled the Wabbit's fur. While Jenny interviewed passengers, Wabsworth spoke quietly to the Captain and relayed conversation directly to the Wabbit. The radio crackled with tales of unusual events and there had been several. But the Captain sounded adamant. "Yes, it was ein Hund," he grumbled. "Didn't have a ticket so I asked the dog to pay right then." Wabsworth gave the Captain an enquiring look and slipped him 2 lunch vouchers. The Captain leaned on the rail and talked. "He wanted to pay with an undated Government hot dog." Wabsworth started back in mock surprise. "Ja," said the Captain, "but I had no change for anything that big." "Where did the dog go?" The Captain thought for a second. "He was for Haarschnitt searching - and I said I'd drop him off," "And did you?" murmured Wabsworth. "Well," said the Captain, "when we got to Haarschnitt, he just jumped off and paddled - with the hot dog in his teeth, yet." Wabsworth pretended to be amazed. "Did this Wunderhund have a name?" "Ja," said the Captain, "and it was ein guter name. His name was Flammen. Arsch in Flammen." "Arson Fire," breathed Wabsworth and he looked up at the Wabbit. The Wabbit made an incomprehensible gesture so Wabsworth shrugged and turned. "One last thing. How much was the Government hot dog worth?" The Captain let out a nautical bellow. "€250 billion." Wabsworth heard a muffled crash as the Wabbit dropped his radio ...

3. The Wabbit and the Smell of Money

The Wabbit sniffed. All his funds were impregnated with a clinging odour and no matter how they transformed, they kept the smell. In a dingy neighbourhood in Amsterdam known as Brievenbus, the team was hot on the spoor. The Wabbit peered suspiciously at the advertising and shook his head. The truck was as Italian as Advocaat and the language was choice. So the Wabbit nodded and Tipsy perked her head above the counter. "Gilt flavour hot dogs please." "We don't have none," said the vendor, "a bunch of German tourists have been and gone and bought the lot." "Oh dear," said Tipsy, "where were they from?" "Frankfurt," said the vendor. "At's where I gets me 'ot dogs." Tipsy's eyes revolved three times. "Look into my eyes," she crooned, "and tell me why any sane Frankfurter would take hot dogs home." The vendor's eyes swirled too. "It was a special delivery and I puts 'em asides and waits." Wabsworth drew close. "Tax office, I demand to see your accounts for the last week!" "I only poor Italiano," said the Vendor. "I no know what you say." "Voglio le ricevute degli hot dog," yelled the Wabbit. The vendor's eyes went blank. Tipsy grabbed a dog eared notebook and flicked through it. "Hot Dog Laundry and Liquidisation, GmbH, Haarschnitt." The Wabbit looked at Tipsy. "How did you get here anyway?" "I'm a stowaway," said Tipsy. "You're working your passage," smiled the Wabbit.
[Brievenbus : Dutch. Letterbox ; Haarschnitt: German. Haircut]

2. The Wabbit and the Time less Taken

The cab door slammed shut. "I need you for a mission, Quantum." The Wabbit figured he could find his missing funds by going back in time. But he wanted to go alone and so alerted no-one, certainly not Quantum the Time Travelling Train. The Wabbit saw the regulator swing and felt engines vibrate - slowly at first, then at speed. Outside, the city warped round the train then streets and buildings flickered past like snow in a blizzard. The Wabbit smiled. He'd expected some trouble - at the very least a demand for a requisition order. "I know you don't like short time hops, Quantum. And this is only a matter of weeks." "I'm all prepared," said Quantum, "So rest easy. It's organised." The Wabbit was nonplussed but Quantum laughed. "The paperwork is done and you'll find it on the windscreen shelf." "We'll have to stop for supplies," said the Wabbit. "Taken care of," said Quantum. "There's a stock of salad sandwiches, coffee and a supply of hard and soft drinks in the fridge." "How the binky did you know?" asked the Wabbit. "The team told me." "The team?" sighed the Wabbit. "Your team," said Quantum. The Wabbit hopped up and down on the footplate. "Where are they now?" "In the dining car," said Quantum. "Who?" demanded the Wabbit. "Lapinette," said Quantum. The Wabbit waited. "... and Skratch and Wabsworth." "Is that the lot?" groaned the Wabbit. "Captain Jenny," added Quantum. The Wabbit smiled and gave up. "They'd better have valid tickets."

1. The Wabbit and the Finance Haircut

The Wabbit and Lovely Lapinette hopped along Corso Raffaello on their way to lunch. "Any news from the Department?" asked the Wabbit. "Not officially," said Lapinette. The Wabbit pondered for a bit. "Trouble?" "Trouble with tassels on," said Lapinette. The Wabbit brightened but Lapinette didn't. "I'm afraid it's your Dinosaur Fund." The Wabbit's face fell. His Dinosaur Fund was strictly unofficial and provided vital resources for unorthodox missions of the Wabbit's choosing. "I'd hoped it was building up again," he said. "It took a haircut," said Lapinette, "but no-one knows where." The Wabbit's brain was churning. "It was delivered to a letterbox in the Netherlands in undated government gilts." "Check," said Lapinette. "From there it was couriered to a sausage company in Frankfurt and liquidised." "The hot dog route," nodded Lapinette. The Wabbit allowed himself a cautious smile. "A digital transfer should have taken it to Donchester Dog Races where Arson Fire was certain to clean up." Lapinette grinned. "He did and the winnings were considerable. They made their way to the London Borough of Rottingfish for overnight deposit." The Wabbit groaned. "Where is it now?" Lapinette pouted. "It's back, what's left of it." "How much?" sighed the Wabbit weakly. "Twelve euro and ten cent," replied Lapinette. "That's not a hair cut, we've been pumped, scalped and dumped," yelled the Wabbit.

9. The Wabbit and Prison Reform

The Wabbit hadn't the faintest idea what to do with the prisoner and he grinned wryly to himself. The Wabbit didn't hold with prisons, because he thought they didn't work. But in a medieval building known only to the Wabbit and close associates, he maintained a detention room. "I hope your treatment has been satisfactory," he announced. The Shaman sighed. His batteries were depleted and he wished he'd used solar cells instead. "Did you enjoy the detention movie of the week?" chirped the Wabbit. "I'm tired of the Great Escape," retorted the Shaman. The Wabbit played with the Force Field switch and made it crackle - which was the full extent of its effectiveness. He had built it in his shed and it simply didn't work. Nonetheless, the Shaman shrank back. So the Wabbit had an idea. "Have you thought of trying show business?" The Shaman shook his head. "You could pull yourself out of your own hat," suggested the Wabbit. The Shaman thought about it. "Is there any money in it?" "You can print your own money," said the Wabbit, "it's really all the rage." "What about flashing lights?" said the Shaman. "You'll have to come with a warning!" laughed the Wabbit and he hopped straight through his force field and sat down. The Shaman watched as the Wabbit showed him three cards, one of them the Queen of Hearts. The Wabbit slowly placed them face down. Suddenly paws and cards blurred, then stopped. "Now," asked the Wabbit, "what happened to the Lady?"

The Wabbit at the Adventure Caffè

"Hello Spider woman," meaowed Skratch the Cat. The Wabbit had invited Skratch to his favourite caffè to listen to his views on their latest adventure. Wabsworth leaned forward. "Wab's the name. Gumshoe's my game." The Wabbit waved to Skratch and drawled. "The cheaper the shaman, the fancier the outfit." Skratch puffed out his chest and laughed. Lapinette crossed her legs and murmured. "I knew it was a film noir, because I was completely in the dark." "As was your audience," purred Skratch, "and I'm still figuring who was telling the truth." He scrutinised all three then thought deeply. "Wabbit, I saw your deceptive reflection, mirrored in the subway walls." He wheeled to face Lapinette. "You were the femme fatale. You were hidden but possibly hiding the truth. Maybe you and the Shaman were together." Wabsworth was next on Skratch's list. "You took the role of narrator but instead of following and explaining, the plot dragged you along." "I ran interference," said Wabsworth proudly. "What about the Shaman?" grinned the Wabbit. Skratch brushed a paw across his chest. "I considered he might be a sham but rejected it. His was rough magic but he was the real deal." Wabsworth rapped the arm of his chair. "He didn't get the antimatter and he didn't get the female." They instantly paused and looked at the Wabbit. "Where is he now ... ?"

8. The Wabbit and the Inside Out

Wabsworth linked paws with the Wabbit and they both chanted. "Nissa nissa nissa nissa." They were relentless. The Shaman collapsed on the station floor and deflated like a bag of old breath. Then something moved inside the cloak as if it was trying to get out. "Chant Wabsworth, chant!" yelled the Wabbit. "Nanna hey, nanna hey, nanna hey ho," chanted Wabsworth and they both hopped from one foot to another. The figure was small but grew every second as the Wabbit and Wabsworth danced round in a never ending circle. Now they could see who the figure was. "Get me out of here! On the double!" yelled Lapinette in a squeaky voice. The Wabbit pulled Wabworth's paw and they went round again. "Etlay erhay ogay! Etlay erhay ogay " Lapinette spun through the air - along with a hat, an assortment of batteries and an impatience at bursting point. "I'll take him apart at the seams!" She landed with a wallop that was far from graceful and turned to look at the remnants of the Shaman. The Wabbit shrugged. So did Wabsworth. "Is she full size now?" whispered Wabsworth. "I never answer questions about size," murmured the Wabbit. Lapinette shook a paw at the costume but the Wabbit looked very suspicious. "Are there any more in there?"   "I heard voices," said Lapinette. Wabsworth gazed enquiringly and Lapinette grinned. "Sounded like the Swingle Singers." The Wabbit's eyes suddenly twinkled. "Let's leave them ..."

7. The Wabbit Chants Down

They reached the comparative safety of the concourse, but the Shaman started to yell. "Now! Give me the antimatter, Wabbit, I know you have it." Wabsworth could only watch. The Wabbit turned, raised raised both paws and chanted. "Nissa nissa nissa nissa." The air cracked with a dreadful roar and from it issued seven demonic wabbits. The Shaman stumbled as they swooped. "Nissa nissa nissa," chanted the Wabbit. The seven circled and dived and the Shaman swiped aimlessly. "I'm not afraid of rabbits!" The station lights dimmed as he tried to draw power - but the seven were merciless and swift. He shrieked as pieces of costume flew from his cloak and he cursed the Wabbit nine times with all his might. "May your paws dissolve!" The Wabbit lowered his paws slowly and spread them wide. "Nissa Gy We Oh," The Shaman's sigh was like a death rattle. Wabsworth watched closely for it looked as if the Shaman was being torn from the inside. The Wabbit raised his paws again. "I command you to obey." The Shaman made one more attempt to break free from the seven, but his stomach sank and his head sagged by such a degree that it threatened to dislodge completely. "Enough," grunted the Shaman in surrender. "Release the soul within," said the Wabbit ...

[Seneca nation chant.  Nissa: moon.  Gy We Oh: Blessed be.  

"May your paws dissolve" is a freely adapted curse from a Roman inscription - Archaological Museum, Bologna]

6. The Wabbit and the Ghost Train

The power failed to return. So Wabsworth, posing as Conductor, led them through the Tunnel. The Shaman's eyes became searchlights and the Wabbit pulled an old torch from his fur. "Everything is locked down," said Wabsworth, "but we should get out along the tracks." They made good headway for a while, then without warning the Shaman began to vibrate and he chanted. "By the prickling of my nose, some kind of current this way flows." The Wabbit could smell it too and he looked back. "It's a train." Wabsworth looked at his watch. "It can't possibly be a train, it's not on the timetable." "And there's a power outage," said the Wabbit. "So it must be a ghost train," said the Shaman. "Do ghosts have a timetable?" asked the Wabbit. "No," said Wabsworth, "they only run a skeleton service." At that moment, the Wabbit realised Wabsworth was making everything up as he went along, just like the old game they used to play on lengthy stakeouts. But the train was real enough. He could hear metal on metal and he shivered as it rounded the curve and headed towards them. "Make for the emergency stairs," yelled the Wabbit. It was too late. They were rooted to the spot, all except for the Shaman. He wheeled and danced and made strange sounds that were the screech and squeal of brakes with a hiss on the end. With a tungsten blur the ghost train passed straight though them ...  

5. The Wabbit and the Rail Conductor

"Attention passengers! Attention passengers!" Wabsworth strode along the platform with all the authority of a rabbit with an official hat. "We're getting that power back for you now." The Wabbit smiled to himself. "What happened, Conductor?" "Nothing much," said Wabsworth. "The train in front of the train in the middle caused an overload on the train at the back." Will we be long?" asked the Shaman. "Indefinite I'm afraid," said Wabsworth. "But whatever you do, don't leave the train." "We're not on the train," said the Shaman. "The train must have left you then," scowled Wabsworth, "but perhaps I can offer you a light refreshment while you wait?" The Shaman showed the first signs of amiability. "I'll have an aperitiv ..." He changed his mind with lightning speed. "Ayahuasca Bitters." Wabsworth turned to the Wabbit. "And you, Sir?" "Ginger and Carrot Cocktail," replied the Wabbit. "I'll fix them now," said Wabsworth. "Wait here, passengers. But whatever you do - don't get on the first train." "Why?" asked the Shaman. "Because it's late," said Wabsworth. "The train you require is the train that follows - that's the Antimatter Flier, change at Lepton for Quantum Spin." "Quantum Spin?" queried the Shaman. The Wabbit grinned. "It's the site of the Large Shed Collider!" Now the Shaman became impatient. "Conductor. The Antimatter Flier. How long?" "Oh, it's about 70 metres," shrugged Wabsworth.
[Ayahuasca: Amazonian psychoactive brew consumed for revelatory and divinitory purposes.]

4. The Wabbit and the Moonlit Subway

The Wabbit turned on his heel, then closely followed by the Shaman, he hopped down to the Metro. Wabsworth waited, then followed too. Something was afoot, because the Metro lamps owed more to moonlight than electricity. "The Wabbit appears unconcerned," thought Wabsworth, "so what would I do in his place?" His thoughts were interrupted as the Shaman's voice boomed through the station. "Is this your shed?" "This is my subway to my shed," replied the Wabbit. "Ah," said the Shaman, "the words of the Wabbit are written in the subway halls." "They almost certainly are," smiled the Wabbit,  "no one dare remove them." "Take me to your shed!" yelled the Shaman. "Get me the antimatter!" "What colour would like?" chirped the Wabbit. The Shaman was dangerously angry. "What colours have you got?" "I have black, white or no colour at all," said the Wabbit. Now Wabsworth grinned since he knew the Wabbit was making things up as he went along. It was a game they played on long surveillance shifts, the winner being the one who could first anticipate a likely ending. So he knew what to do. Wabsworth quickly dismantled a power access cover and as the Wabbit lifted a paw, all the lights dimmed. "Was that you?" asked the Shaman. The Wabbit shook his head. "Just a bit of dirty power. We'd better grab a conductor ..."

3. The Wabbit & the Shaman's Desire

Night kicked in like a hammer, but the Shaman stayed behind the Wabbit and Wabsworth tucked behind the Shaman. In the light of the Metro entrance, Wabsworth saw the Wabbit wheel and gesture to the Shaman. He heard the Wabbit speak in a stern voice he had never heard before. "Please, after you." Flashes of blue lightning connected the Shaman with the Metro sign. "You are the Wabbit that knows everything!" The Wabbit grinned and 28 teeth flashed menacingly. "Aw shucks." The Shaman started backwards. "No-one ever says that." "I heard it in a film," shrugged the Wabbit. They stared at each other but the Shaman broke the silence. "An animal guide appeared to me in a Vision Quest. It implied that you were the one." "The one what?" asked the Wabbit. "The one," breathed the Shaman, "who keeps antimatter in his fur." The Wabbit rocked on his hind legs. "For what purpose do you want this antimatter?" "Special effects," said the Shaman. The Wabbit smiled. " You're clearly a Shaman. Can't you do special effects on your own?" The Shaman shook his head. "I used to, but I quit." "Oh, everyone wants to be legit," said the Wabbit in a most sorrowful voice that Wabsworth knew was fake. The Shaman sighed. "I was legit, too legit. People want more." "But what if I can't help you?" mused the Wabbit. "Then I'll vapourise you," said the Shaman. "But you quit," said the Wabbit. "Maybe I quit too early," snarled the Shaman ...

2. The Wabbit & the Electric Shaman

All day long, Wabsworth trailed the Wabbit through the city. But just as he'd thought about giving up, something happened. A curious creature emerged from a side road and it was clear that he too was following the Wabbit. He wore an elaborate cloak of many colours and from it came blue flashes that lit the damp air. "A Shaman!" breathed Wabsworth. The Shaman mumbled something - and thinking it might be an incantation, Wabsworth drew close and listened. But this was no incantation; it was a list of technical equipment. "A Pulse Detonation Engine is essential," muttered the Shaman. "Without a Pulse Detonation Engine, I cannot proceed." The Wabbit strolled on and the Shaman set off again. "There he is," muttered the Shaman. "He has antimatter hidden in his fur and knows where to find the correct detonator." The Shaman's voice dropped and Wabsworth struggled to hear. "He knows everything," breathed the Shaman. Wabsworth paused. He knew that the Wabbit could find most things but he didn't have a source of antimatter to paw. "Maybe he has some in his shed," said Wabsworth to himself, but it came out too loud. The Shaman stopped dead because he was a real shaman and still had confidence in his powers. "My Inner Spirit Guide speaks of a shed." Now the Shaman pursued the Wabbit with vigour and Wabsworth scampered after them both. "I'd better look out for the Wabbit," he thought. "He might be in over his shed."

1. The Wabbit and the Smell of the Arc

The Department of Wabbit Affairs was under reconstruction and the Wabbit couldn't complain. It was he who had suggested the idea, after his fur became trapped between a filing cabinet and a crack in the plaster. When he met his android copy at the corner, he exhaled with force. "Wabsworth. Things aren't quite right." Wabsworth paused because he seldom thought anything was right. The fact that buildings were still present on a second visit was, for Wabsworth, a source of never ending amazement. "It will all be finished soon," he said, "and your office will be synergistically sustainable." The Wabbit frowned. He had requested a stained glass window - and although it would double as a solar panel that charged his walkie talkie, it had been the first budget cut. "I don't mean the building isn't right." He sniffed the air. "I keep smelling electricity." Wabsworth sniffed too. His circuits hummed a little and he could feel something blue. "Like arcing?" The Wabbit nodded and spoke on a whim. "Maybe it's magic." Wabsworth mused. "Arcing of the magical kind." "I'll track it down," grunted the Wabbit and he turned. "Need any assistance?" asked Wabsworth. The Wabbit smiled and shook his head. "I'll be fine thanks." Wabsworth watched him stroll away until he was almost out of sight. Then he followed him ...

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

Lapinette and the Wabbit were about to order, when Skratch appeared from around the corner. "Ask me the question!" yelled Skratch in a theatrical manner. "I am not afraid!" Lapinette seemed nonplussed. "Hello Skratch," she murmured vaguely "What kind of Adventure did we just have?" Skratch purred. "It was free-wheeling road movie kind of Trek, with a Scottish flavour and a Cold War vibe." The Wabbit was looking at something else. "Someone left a book behind." "What's it called?" asked Lapinette. The Stolen Life of a Cheerful Man, said the Wabbit. "Oh," said Lapinette. "That is intriguing." "I'd better take it to Lost Property," said the Wabbit. He grasped the book but suddenly Lapinette was reading it. "I'll take it myself," she said. The Wabbit took it back. "I'm afraid I spilled wine on it and it must go to the cleaners." Lapinette screwed up her eyes. "What if I'm in it?" The Wabbit smiled. "Then you'll be cleaned too." They tried to out stare each other for some time without success. A red paw grasped the volume away. "There's my book," said Skratch. "I knew it was here somewhere." The Wabbit was suspicious. "Who wrote it?" Skratch straightened to his full height. "It's signed to me by the author, Dimitris Politis himself." Lapinette turned. "How would you describe it then?" "Distinguished," shrugged Skratch.

13. The Wabbit and the Holy Snail

Flying overhead, the Fake Vote led them to the Holy Snail - and it was exactly where they started. The MoTo Snails thought themselves very punk indeed, but for once they were lost for words. "Your Holiness," stammered Mo. The Holy Snail shimmered in the strange light. "Did you bring me any cardboard?" he murmured. "Please approach and I will bless it and eat it." The Wabbit knew Mo and To had eaten all the cardboard. But secretly he had stashed a small piece in his fur because it had a strange shape. He passed it to To then called up to the Fake Vote. "Can you explain something?" The Vote shook his wings and swooped round the Old Abandoned Tower. "What about the Warplane?" yelled the Wabbit. The Vote shook his nose. "What plane?" The Wabbit sighed because he knew what was coming and he shouted, "It dropped the ballot boxes on the railroad and you were in one." "I'm afraid I was in the dark at the time," said the Vote. "Then we're both in the dark about that one," said the Wabbit, "but was it an enemy or a friend?" "Hard to tell sometimes," said Lapinette for the second time that trip. The Holy Snail interrupted. "When something sinister means to be your enemy, it starts by being your friend." Silence fell and the hum of the nearby underpass seemed to get louder. Mo and To spoke sadly. "Our Quest is over." The Wabbit shook his head thoughtfully. "No Quest is ever over."

12. The Wabbit's Ballot Denouement

They watched the last butterfly head out, but when they turned back, the Spieler and his stall had vanished. In its place was a tower and a generous supply of cardboard. "Yummety yum," said Mo as they feasted. "We will take some of the Cardboard City back," said To with a burp and he tried to eat it all. "When you're quite finished," said a voice. The Fake Vote had changed too. He stared directly at the Wabbit and rocked his stylish wings. The Wabbit narrowed his eyes. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" The Fake Vote lifted its nose. "Did you ever fly AeroFlotsy?" "I recall the sandwiches," nodded the Wabbit gravely. His nose twitched at the thought of food and he was about to mention he could smell chocolate - but the Fake Vote sounded slightly irritable. "I had the devil's own job getting you here." Lapinette waved from Mo's back. "You weren't chasing us?" The Wabbit laughed carefully. "You were directing us, not pursuing us." "It was my job," said the Fake Vote. "I was supposed to make sure the vote was fair, but I got sealed in a box of fake votes and put in a Jeep with the real ones." "Go on," said the Wabbit. "The ballot boxes were to be substituted and the fake votes taken to the count," said the Fake Vote. "But the jeep went over a cliff and all the votes with it." "And you," said the Wabbit. "And me," smiled the Fake Vote ruefully. "Anyway you rescued me, so perhaps there's some way I can help you." The Wabbit glanced at Mo and To. "We seek the Holy Snail."

11. The Wabbit and the Blue Butterflies

The Wabbit scattered the ballot boxes and they burst open. For an instant he was lost in the beating of gossamer-thin wings - but it was only for the smallest fraction of time and space. Butterflies poured from the ballot boxes, surrounded him and soared into the sky. The Wabbit's eyes glistened. He raised a paw and murmured something as he waved to the butterflies. "Stay with me, do not take thy flight." Lapinette could just hear his words and completed the verse. "A little longer stay in sight." The MoTo Snails let out a cheer that could be heard for miles. Even the Fake Vote briefly abandoned savaging his captive to watch the astonishing display. One of the butterflies settled between the Wabbit's ears and its grip was just as sharp as the Fake Vote's talons. "Thank you, Commander. "We're in your debt." The Wabbit shook his head. " No, it is I who is indebted to you." "Call it mutual?" suggested the Butterfly. The Wabbit nodded and gestured towards the Fake Vote. "What about him?" The Butterfly made a strange shrugging motion with its wings. "I've never seen him before. Is he with you?" The Wabbit shook his head but suddenly changed his mind and shook it the other way. He stared at the Spieler, who's skeleton frame was rather the worse for wear. Then he stared at the Fake Vote. "I suppose," frowned the Wabbit, "that he must be."
[To a Butterfly: William Wordsworth]

10. The Wabbit and the Sale of Votes

The Wabbit and Lapinette took cover inside the Cardboard City and for a while they seemed to lose the Fake Vote. But barking cries drew their attention, so they dismounted and approached with caution. The MoTo Snails nudged each other. "It's a spieler," said Mo. "and he's hammering the stock," agreed To.  Mo looked around carefully. "I don't see no lurkers." To nodded and spoke quietly to Lapinette. "He's a fast guy, hang onto your cash." The Trader was getting into his stride and he threw his arms wide.  "Special price for a special lady!" Lapinette's eyes moved imperceptibly. "Can the lip and tell me what you got." At this point, the Wabbit took his cue and slid round the back to look at the merchandise. The Spieler picked up a box. "I got votes, any kind you like," Lapinette looked unimpressed. "They're all transferable." Lapinette narrowed her eyes and the Spieler continued. "I transfer votes to you. You transfer cash to me." The Wabbit poked around everywhere and heard something odd from inside a box. "Help, get us out." The Spieler turned. "Don't talk to the goods." The Wabbit spoke sharply. "The goods are hot." "They don't call me Honesty Bones for nothing," said the Spieler sharply. "My votes are as good as new, used once only." The Wabbit looked up. "You're nailed, buster - and your goods are seized." "Naw, naw, naw. " The Fake Vote swooped down from the rooftop and gripped the Spieler's neckbone ...
[Spieler: fast talking trader who attracts customers with "patter". Lurker: A trader that hangs on the edges of a market stall.]

9. The Wabbit in the Cardboard City

The Wabbit gasped. He remembered the MoTo Snails speaking of a Cardboard City and what a Cardboard City this was! All the same, this was a Quest and anything could occur. So he drew a Snazer gun from the secret compartment he'd designed specially for To. "Expecting to find trouble Commander?" asked Mo. The Wabbit grinned and every one of his 28 teeth gleamed in the light. "No. I expect trouble to find me." To glanced across the entirety of the city. "I don't like coloured cardboard." "It tastes of toxic," said Mo, "but I see plain cardboard over there." "Yum yum," said To. The Wabbit shook his head. "It may be an enemy playing a trick." "I hate enemies," said Mo. To snarled. "And the enemies of our enemies are dumpling heads." Lapinette nodded in agreement. "Let's look over there." "What for?" asked Mo. "I don't know," smiled Lapinette, "it's your Quest." Mo and To looked at each other and shook their antennae. "We seek the Holy Snail." Lapinette tried not to laugh, but the Wabbit simply said "There is none." Mo and To drew back. "What? No Holy Snail, you say?" The Wabbit held up a paw. "I mean the Quest is more important than the objective." The conversation stopped as staccato calls shattered the air. "Listen!" whispered the Wabbit. There it was again. "Naw, Naw, Naw." "Take cover in the cardboard!" yelled the Wabbit.

8. The Wabbit & the Thinness of Space

"Goin' up" yelled Mo. "Second floor, third floor, fourth floor," shouted To. "Perfumery, stationery, wigs and haberdashery," yelled Mo. "Rooftop restaurant and restrooms," shouted Mo. The Wabbit made a wry face. His snail modifications were no longer secret and he knew very well his project was far from complete. Lapinette sighed because she knew the Wabbit always programmed jokes into a retrofit. "Wabbit!" Her voice didn't carry in the rarefied atmosphere and the Wabbit only hear "bit". So he made a guess. "Good bit of work, don't you think?" Lapinette grimaced. "Get us down Wabbit, before we freeze." "Your knees will be fine," shouted the Wabbit. "Just cling closer to Mo." "Can you hear flapping?" shouted Lapinette. The Wabbit looked pleased. "I'll leave the applause until later." "Flapping!" yelled Lapinette. This time the Wabbit turned. Talons extended, the Fake Vote hurtled from a corner of space with a banshee wail that cut through everything in its path. "It brought pals!" cried the Wabbit as he ducked. "Which floor, Sir?" asked Mo. "Basement!" yelled the Wabbit. "Goin' down!" yelled Mo. "DIY, key cutting and barbers' shop," shouted To. The fake votes hovered, swooped and lunged but the MoTo Snails were too fast. The Wabbit watched the curve of the earth flatten as they plummeted in free fall. "How do we stop?" shouted Lapinette. "Shop?" asked the Wabbit, "we can do that later."

7. The Wabbit flouts Track Rules

Mo and To shot round the track and quickly broke records for the next hundred years. The gale made the Wabbit's fur stick to his skin and Lapinette's ears were numb. But Mo and To were pitted in a test of endurance and a hundred laps passed in so many minutes. On Lap 150, the Wabbit leaned into a bend and felt a tickle in his ear. Lapinette did too and ignored it but the Wabbit couldn't. He fidgeted and glanced behind. Nothing. Yet there it was again. This time it wasn't a tickle - it was more like a bite. The Wabbit tried to look up but fierce talons raked his fur and sliced at his head. The Wabbit let fly a stream of expletives that would have frightened wrestling champions, had any been in a position to hear. To heard though, so he laughed and stored up the words for future use. In that instant, Mo and Lapinette drew ahead and now it was Lapinette's turn to suffer razor claws swiping her ears. "Faster!" yelled the Wabbit. "It's the Fake Vote." He gritted his teeth as Mo and To throttled up but the Vote was in their slipstream and it swooped and raked and sliced. The Wabbit had no option. "Mach 20!" The wind caught his words and passed them to Lapinette. "It's against the rules!" she yelled. The Wabbit clung to To and yelled back. "It's an exception!" "We hate rules," said To.  High up in the Tower, the race marshal saw the MoTo snails turn into two blue balls of energy and vanish. He flicked through his rule book. "Stop and Go Penalty," he muttered.

6. The Wabbit and the Standing Start

Mo and To whizzed round the track on a warm up lap and slithered to a halt on the grid. The Wabbit bent down. "To. Remember to deliver power to the track at all times." "No flying" murmured Lapinette to Mo. "No traction, no speed," said the Wabbit. "Stupid rules," grumbled Mo and To and they grinned at each other. Lapinette and the Wabbit felt Mo and To vibrate like tuning forks and heard a whine as the MoTo Snails powered up. The Wabbit's teeth rattled and he gripped To tightly. The wind from the sea was icy. He glanced at the sky for any sign of sun and suddenly pointed. "What's that?" "Oh," said Lapinette, "you always get birds at a race track. They're defending their territory." "Silly winged things," said To. The Wabbit was a little tense. "Well I wish they wouldn't swoop today, they have all week." That's not a bird," said Mo. "Its the fake vote from the ballot box." "The one that scratched me with its claws," growled the Wabbit. They were so busy watching the flying vote, they nearly missed the start. The Marshal with the red flag walked between them and was gone. They all stared at the lights. For a moment the flying vote landed on the gantry, fluttered and flew high into the air. At that instant the red lights went out. With two sonic booms. Mo and To vanished round the first corner. The wind tore at the Wabbit's fur, but from the corner of his eye he could still see the fake vote hanging like a bird of prey. "Why don't you fly south for the winter?" hissed the Wabbit.

5. The Wabbit & the Pit Lane Incident

The Wabbit shouted "Mount up," like he'd seen in Westerns. Then Mo and To set off at a cracking pace along a cliff side path only to emerge at what seemed at first sight to be an aerodrome. But this was no aerodrome. With the ballot boxes and fake votes safely concealed in a cave, the Wabbit put his concerns on hold and grinned at the view. "Race track!" shouted Mo. "Speed Trials!" yelled To. A hollow voice boomed from the Tannoy system and echoed down Pit Lane. "Late registrations for the MoTo snails have been authorised by the Chief Track Marshal." The voice continued with technical details at enormous length until the Wabbit could take no more. He bent down and spoke quietly. "Is this part of your Quest?" Mo and To waved their antennae. "Yes, it's a test and a trial," said Mo. "Speed, endurance and technique," uttered To. The Wabbit nodded gravely, but something was scratching at his back and he didn't want to start a race with discomfort. "What? Get off! Grrr." "Look!" said Lapinette. She pointed at a rogue ballot paper that appeared to have stuck to the Wabbit's back. Suddenly the Wabbit felt sharp claws detach from his fur and he looked round as the fake vote floated into the air. The Tannoy system boomed suddenly. "Mo, To, Lovely Lapinette and The Wabbit to the starting grid." "The floating vote will have to wait," sighed the Wabbit, "but where on earth is it going?" The MoTo Snails' shells hummed softly and the snails started to move. "How is that done?" murmured Lapinette. "Superconducting quantum solid state technology," replied To. Lapinette smiled. "Any instructions?" "Stay cool," laughed To.

4. The Wabbit and the Fake Votes

The Wabbit and Lapinette hauled the ballot boxes to a secluded cove nearby and there they opened them. "What shall we do?" asked Lapinette. "We should count the votes," replied the Wabbit. Lapinette nodded - because she knew the Wabbit was inclined to excessive formality. As the Wabbit counted, he examined each ballot paper and made piles as he'd seen in election counts. A breeze sprang up and Lapinette pursued papers that drifted across the beach. "They all say 'No'", murmured the Wabbit. "Did you spot any votes for 'Yes'?". Lapinette shook her head. "Can we eat them?" called Mo, who had a snail's liking for cardboard. "I don't suppose it matters," said the Wabbit. Mo and To nibbled the ballot papers and snorted. "They taste awful." The Wabbit scrutinised bar codes and frowned. Then he sniffed a ballot paper and wrinkled his nose. "There's something strange about these."  He turned and called to Mo. "What do you think?" Mo waggled his antennae. "They smell of decay." The Wabbit looked at Lapinette and moved his ears from side to side. Lapinette knew matters were serious. She sniffed the ballot papers too, then jumped back in revulsion. "Yeugh". The Wabbit sighed and sniffed again. Then he put an ear close to the papers for a very long time. He sniffed once more. His head rose and he looked out to sea. They all waited as minutes passed. "These voters don't exist," sighed the Wabbit. Lapinette shifted uneasily and gave voice to the question that hung in the air. "Why?" The Wabbit let the paper drop from his paw. "Because they're dead."

3. The Wabbit and the Missing Votes

The Wabbit thought it was a plane and it was. An old turbo prop swept low along the lines and they all took cover. But just as it reached the MoTo snails, it swooped upwards with a deafening roar and blue boxes spiralled onto the track. The Wabbit grabbed one and inspected it. "These are ballot boxes," said Lapinette. The Wabbit was puzzled. "Maybe they're the missing votes." The turbo prop disappeared out to sea, leaving only the sounds of waves moving shingle on the beach and rustling of paper. "What missing votes?" asked To, who was old school and critical. "There were strange stories from my land," said the Wabbit. "Tales of remote polling stations and ballot boxes and jeeps in the night." "I remember," said Lapinette. "It was in La Stampa." "We hate newspapers," said Mo. To agreed. "They're not worth the paper they're written on." "Like votes," said Mo. To laughed. "They give you a box and some stuff and you have to put the stuff in their box." "Sometimes that's true," said the Wabbit sadly. He shook the box and heard something scratching. So he peered through the slit but saw only paper. "All the same," said Lapinette, "votes shouldn't just disappear." "They didn't disappear," said Mo, "they were redistributed." The Wabbit shook his head like a donkey. "We need to look at them, but oh, why didn't they land in the sea instead?" Lapinette blinked and winked. "They would have been floating votes ..."

2. The Wabbit and the Distant Horizon

Mo and To told their friends they could bring a few items with them and the Wabbit and Lapinette were taking no chances - because they knew anything could happen on a Quest. Although they might meet friends, the Wabbit reasoned they would certainly meet enemies too. "Sometimes," said Lapinette gravely, "it's hard to tell them apart." Mo and To glided easily across the rugged terrain and as they slid along, they solemnly changed the names of everything they saw. This was some kind of ritual and the Wabbit joined in. Trees were called stones, houses became cars and, curiously, fences were named giraffes. Mo and To reached an old single railway line and wheeled to face the horizon. "This is our path," said Mo. "More of a track," said To. Lapinette squinted her eyes and stared down the railway until she could see no further. "Are we on the right lines?" quipped the Wabbit. "What about trains?" asked Lapinette. "We'd have a long wait," said To with a rude gesture of his antennae. "Government Cuts," grimaced Mo. He ejected a stream of slime and slithered in it. Lapinette flapped her ears. "I thought I heard something." "It's the sea," said Mo. "No it's the land," said To. "It's the damp whispering grass," snorted Mo. They looked at each other and laughed and wouldn't stop. The Wabbit jumped down, put his ear to the track then sniffed. The metal felt cold and smelled of verdigris. "Sounds like a plane ..."

1. The Quest of the MoTo Snails

The Wabbit and Lapinette met Mo and To in the early morning on the edge of town. Mo and To were punk snails and fashioned themselves accordingly. They had reason to be grateful to the Wabbit. He was responsible for a retrofit that made them incredibly swift and so a speed of Mach 2 was nothing for the MoTo Snails. The Wabbit held on to To and tried to get comfortable. "Our namesakes have passed away," said Mo. "Oh no," said the Wabbit sadly. "Let's remember them," said Lapinette softly. The Urban Sphynx made a haunting funeral sound that spiralled round the Abandoned Tower and they all shed a tear. The Wabbit broke the long silence. "Why are we here?" Mo and To nodded at exactly the same time, but To spoke first. "We shall now embark on a Quest." Mo explained further. "We're obliged to find something and for success we must make our Quest with friends." Lapinette steadied herself on Mo's back. "What are we looking for?" "No-one really knows," said Mo. "We'll know when we find it," said To. The Wabbit thought long and hard. "And when we find it," he asked, "will we bring it back?" "It depends how big it is," said Mo. To's antennae wagged. "It could be a new land made entirely of cardboard." Lapinette smiled to herself. "We can't bring that back, so what shall we do?" "Eat it." said Mo and To.

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The waiter tucked the team in nicely, took the order and vanished. "How do we get out?" said Lapinette. The Wabbit positioned himself to speak. "We don't usually have any trouble!" "Where's my dwink?" said Tipsy. "We just ordered," said Skratch, "it's only a matter of time." "Talking of Time," ventured Lapinette, "what was that for a kind of adventure?" It was the moment Skratch the Cat had been waiting for and he leaned forward with delight. "We were in a revisionist space western." Lapinette grinned. "Revisionism is a departure from tradition that favours critical views." Skratch nodded. "So each episode was a signifier only for itself." Tipsy suddenly waved. "The story showed that events shouldn't be stored in a shed, like gardening tools." "They can if you keep them in a neat block," said the Wabbit, who had been reading.  Skratch was dismissive. "That assumes time and space is relative depending on where the viewer is located." "So what about the Zones?" asked Lapinette. "The Zones were self-actuating fields of persuasion, which bent towards us," said Skratch. They all went quiet. "What about iconic instability?" muttered the Wabbit. Skratch giggled. "The Zoner clocks were indeed unstable. They were icons and also signs." "What kind of signs?" asked the Wabbit. "Signs of the times," said Skratch.

The Wabbit's Fairground Distraction

"We could site a Big Dipper over there," said the Wabbit. Wabsworth scanned the middle distance. "What about a Ghost Metro?" The Wabbit grinned and winked. "It could burst shrieking from underground." The Wabbit had come across an abandoned fairground ride and caused it to be located at the rear of the Department of Wabbit Affairs. There, he was slowly renovating it. That caused much amusement to his team, but the Wabbit paid no attention whatsoever. He had succeeded in making a device that played hurdy gurdy music using three old fiddles and a computer keyboard. This made rather a ghostly sound that aroused speculation on dark moonless nights when the Department worked late and the Wabbit was practicing. "About the Dinosaur Fund?" said Wabsworth. The Wabbit's android double was an exact copy but a lot had happened since inception. He looked at the rides and touched the Wabbit's shoulder affectionately. "Things go up and down." The Wabbit was unphased. "Fluctuations in the market?" "In our favour," smiled Wabsworth. "For a while we had more funds that exist anywhere." "How long did that last?" asked the Wabbit. "20 minutes," said Wabsworth. The Wabbit saw his plan for a Wabbit Land Pleasure Park disappear in a single instant. So he thought for a while. "What kind of Market do we need, a Bull or a Bear?" Wabsworth smiled broadly. "A Beer Market," he chortled

14. The Wabbit and Judgement of Time

The Wabbit hopped on a desk and tried to look stern. This was a bare room sometimes borrowed by the Wabbit for interrogations. But it belonged to the Crimes Against Time Agency (CAT), which had set the investigation in motion. The three Zoners looked so subdued that the Wabbit felt somewhat tolerant. Skratch shook his head, then scratched it. "Psst," he purred to the Zoners. "Shuffle your feet and wring your hands." Tipsy waved to attract the Zoners' attention. "It's better for you in the long run." The Wabbit paused for a very long time and although the clocks couldn't sweat, a little machine oil trickled down their faces. "You can't go around collecting time!" yelled the Wabbit. The Zoners muttered that it was only a bit of fun. The Wabbit shoved his paws deep into his fur. "It causes time turbulence, which gives others a rough time." There was silence. "Every time I turn around, there's trouble!" shouted the Wabbit. The Zoners nodded, so the Wabbit continued. "There's a time and a place for everything." In the silence that fell, the Wabbit realised he didn't dislike the Zoners and smiled to himself. "As regards a suitable penalty. I've hardly had time to think." The clocks wrung their hands and the Wabbit pointed. "You will remain in Time Zone Zulu." The clocks shuffled their feet so the Wabbit thought for a while. "You will keep accurate time." The Zoners looked rueful. "Anything else?" "Yes," said the Wabbit. "Time off for good behaviour."