The Wabbit was having fun in his favourite park when he heard a voice. "Keep off the grass, Wabbit!" The Wabbit peered around his favourite pillar. "Oh, hello Snail," he smiled. "I am duly obliged to hop on the grass, since I am a Wabbit." "I heard we're going to Rome," said Snail. "There's no "we" about it," said the Wabbit. "It's a hush-hush secret Christmas mission." "We could construct a temporary camp," said Snail. "A change is good as a rest." The Wabbit thought rest was unlikely where Snail was involved. "How would you get there?" asked the Wabbit "I would hitch hike," said Snail. "And how would you signal your request for a lift?" said the Wabbit. "I would hook a single antenna and wiggle it," said Snail. The Wabbit tried to visualise the scene and gave up quickly. He fidgeted and hopped up and down and he thought and thought. "There might be a place I know," said the Wabbit. "It's near the Vatican." "Near the Vatican," echoed Snail with delight. "What's it really like?" "Nothing special," said the Wabbit. "Just a bunch of Pontiffs on scooters." "I'd like a scooter," said Snail. "Then you shall have one," said the Wabbit and he pulled from his fur a requisition order. The Wabbit scribbled for a while and whistled through his teeth. "One scooter, blue, ordered" he said finally. "Isn't the Department short of cash?" puzzled Snail. "I put everything through the contingency fund," said the Wabbit. "Isn't the contingency fund for contingencies?" asked Snail. "Everything's a contingency," said the Wabbit.
