Thursday, June 28, 2012
The Wabbit and his android double met briefly in a repertory cinema where the Wabbit sometimes hid out. "I can’t keep calling you Android," said the Wabbit. "Robot calls me Wabsworth," said android Wabbit. "OK. Wabsworth it is," stated the Wabbit. "Now what are our protocols?" "Well the first is that obviously we musn’t go round together," said Wabsworth. "Oh drat!" said the Wabbit who had been looking forward to a good conversation with himself. "And the second protocol is that we musn’t exchange coats," said Wabsworth. "Do you know, I never thought of that," said the Wabbit with a malicious glint in his eye. "You Commander, should conform to the third protocol which is to avoid attracting attention." The Wabbit hadn’t a clue how he would manage that one. "Noted!" he said quietly. "Conversely, I will do my best to be seen around and about," muttered Wabsworth. "Are you sure we can’t exchange coats?" asked the Wabbit. "That would defeat the object," replied Wabsworth. "Which is?" said the Wabbit. "To lure the Agent's hit Rabit into making an error and then to eliminate him." "You might get hurt," said the Wabbit. "I’m an android," said Wabsworth, "and can only be damaged." "All the same," said the Wabbit, "you’re a valuable asset." "Oh do you think so?" said Wabsworth with glee. "Yes of course," said the Wabbit. "You’re a credit to the Service and also you have my coat." "Perhaps we could have an aperitivo together after it’s all over," laughed Wabsworth. "That’s the Fourth Protocol," grinned the Wabbit.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Ghost Bunny released the Wabbit and took him to an abandoned café in a little known location south of Turin. "Don’t worry Wabbit. All will be explained." she whispered. "I certainly hope so," said the Wabbit, who was secretly enjoying posing as his long lost cousin. "Ah there you are Wabbit," said Skratch the Cat. "I expect you’re wondering what this is all about." "I’m just a cousin and don’t know much," said the Wabbit with a shrug. “We had to bring you back from Rome without alerting the wicked Agents of Rabit," said Skratch. "The Agents have placed a price upon your head and hired an out-of-town hit Rabit to despatch you without further ado." "Well," said the Wabbit. "I hope the price was right." "A King’s ransom," said Skratch, "and thats why we arranged this double to throw them off the scent." The Wabbit looked at his double. "Nice coat," said the Wabbit. "I’m afraid we had to give him your spare one," said Skratch. "And we programmed him to be just like you," said Robot with a smile. "Programmed?" shouted the Wabbit. "You mean this Wabbit double is an android!" "I’m the Wabbit’s double," announced the android Wabbit. "Be quiet you!" said the Wabbit. "Quiet is, as quiet does," said the android Wabbit annoyingly. "Are you sure about his circuitry?" sighed the Wabbit, hopping up and down. "He's got a state-of-the-art positronic memory." said Robot. "Oh really," said the Wabbit with exasperation and he addressed the android Wabbit sternly. "OK, Mr Bunny. Do you have a plan?" "I’m the Wabbit’s stubble," replied the android Wabbit. "He’ll do!" said the Wabbit.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Locked in the Old Abandoned Garage, the Wabbit hopped around to see what he could see. But the Wabbit had an acute sense of paranoia which sometimes gave him an edge. And the more the Wabbit hopped, the more paranoid he became. "I'm having an Extreme Vacation," he thought, "and that’s very fishy indeed." He started to reckon the odds and the odds looked wild. This brought the Wabbit a sense of calm. "It's all a set-up," mused the Wabbit with a smile and he picked up a guitar that had been left in a corner. "They showed me the instruments so I’d better play," he decided. The Wabbit strummed, picked out a few notes and began to sing the blues. "I took me a mystery tour, it was the road to hell. Took me a mystery tour, it was the road to hell." The Wabbit stopped, thought for a moment, then continued. "Now I’m a sad and lonely Wabbit," he sang, "stuck in an old prison cell." The Wabbit strummed and tried to figure things out. He wondered if anyone was listening, but he’d played for sympathy and nothing had happened. So he shuffled up the rhythm and ground out something heavier. "Wabbit please don’t go! Oh Wabbit please don’t go!" he yelled. "Down to Torino. Oh Wabbit please don’t go!" His voice echoed in the empty garage and melted into a silence that seemed to last forever. Then the Wabbit heard whispering. "Pssst. Pssst Wabbit!" He looked round and spotted Ghost Bunny hiding behind a pile of old discs. “Eek, a ghost!” shouted the Wabbit. “Oh stop it Wabbit, I’ve come to get you out of here," breathed Ghost Bunny.
Monday, June 25, 2012
The Wabbit made for the river as planned, then slipped into a place he knew at the rear of the Old Abandoned Hospital. But he wasn't quick enough or wily enough because no sooner had he arrived than he found himself surrounded by Snail, Franco and Skratch the Cat Burglar. "You thought you'd trick us?" said Skratch. "You can't outwit the Three Amigos," said Snail. "He looks just like the Wabbit. It's uncanny," said Franco. "That's because I am the Wabbit, Franco," shouted the Wabbit. "No," said Franco. "You're just a silly old pretend Wabbit." "Franco!" gasped the Wabbit. "You're on a charge!" "He's too formal for the Wabbit," said Franco. "It's definitely not him." "We'll interrogate him," said Snail. "Find out what he's up to." "I'm not up to anything!" yelled the Wabbit. "The names of all your contacts," said Snail, "and be quick about it because we haven't got all day." "Now look," said the Wabbit, "I can prove who I am." "Go ahead," said Skratch. "It was me who had you locked up several times," said the Wabbit. "Everyone knows that," said Skratch. "Snail, I took you round the city showing you my haunts," said the Wabbit. "Common knowledge," said Snail." "Franco, what about the old base of the Free Wabbits of Turin?" "It's in all the guide books," said Franco. The Wabbit looked around his three friends, sniffed and twitched his nose several times as if he was smelling a rat. Then the Wabbit had an idea. "OK, I'm not the Wabbit," he said. "Who are you?" asked Skratch. sternly. "I'm the long lost cousin of the Wabbit," grinned the Wabbit. "Take him away and show him the instruments," said Skratch.
Friday, June 22, 2012
The Wabbit didn’t know what to do about being home when he ought to be on vacation. He supposed that he would creep around until the bus went back to Rome and no-one would be any the wiser. But his worst fears were realised when he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Hey you!" It was the voice of Skratch the Cat Burglar. "Stop! We want a word with you!" he yelled. The Wabbit cringed mightily and paused to think about all the explaining he would have to do and how embarrassing it was going to be. And then he did the first thing that came in to his head. He gave a weak smile and a little wave and started to hop quickly away. The Wabbit also knew it wasn’t going to end there because, as he hopped faster, Skratch started to chase him. "Imposter! Stop imposter!" cried Skatch. The Wabbit thought if he could make it to the river, he could hide until the crisis was over. Then he would double back round the block, rejoin the bus and return to Rome. But Skratch was relentless and he continued to shout. "Interloper! Fiend! You can’t go around pretending to be the Wabbit!" "I am the Wabbit," shouted the Wabbit feebly, but Skratch ignored him. "We’ll make you spill the beans, you fraud. You may as well give up! Surrender now and take your just deserts." As the Wabbit started to lope, he knew he should really stop and explain. But something inside wouldn’t let him. It was the same something inside that wondered whether he enjoyed getting into these scrapes. "I’ll never go on a Mystery Tour again," thought the Wabbit.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
The Wabbit had only just settled back and started his puzzle magazine, when the coach took off at breakneck speed. Soon it was hurtling along the motorway, past cars and lorries and other coaches. It was so quick that the coach shook from side to side and the Wabbit found it hard to grip the carrot aperitivo that had mysteriously appeared on a small table beside him. Faster and faster went the coach. Trees and bridges and pylons and telegraph poles flashed past the window as it sped through tiny hamlets, then villages, then towns and finally the outskirts of several big cities. "Phew," thought the Wabbit. "This is more than I bargained for." The Wabbit soothed his neves by insisting to himself that this was indeed a mystery tour and mystery was the whole point. But he had an uncanny feeling that he wasn’t going anywhere scenic. Then the coach zoomed through industrial areas full of factories and depots and the Wabbit looked with interest at some areas of urban dereliction. "Mmm," said the Wabbit, "perhaps we're on an archaeological excursion," and he felt in his fur for his archaeological tool kit, which contained small instruments and brushes. But the Wabbit had left it in his other coat and he had to be content with a crack hammer and chisel which somehow had fallen out the tool roll. But the coach rolled on and on and it didn’t stop until it reached the centre of the city. The Wabbit looked out with horror. "Oh no, I’m home in Turin!” he groaned.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
The Wabbit dragged his case across the coach park, muttering as he went. He had gone to Rome for his vacation but he thought it would be nice to see somewhere else. So he was duly cheered when he noticed a large touring bus looking for business. "Mystery Tour!" he said with delight. "and no chance of mishaps on anything so old-fashioned." The Wabbit looked all around and there didn't seem to be anyone else about. The coach park was deserted and devoid of any passengers whatsoever. "Tuesday is a quiet day," he thought. "The bus won’t be overbooked. Perhaps it will take me to the seaside or to a nice wood with a babbling brook." The Wabbit was calm for a moment as he thought a little longer and his head whirled with ideas about where the mystery bus would take him. "Maybe it will head for a fairy-tale castle or a grotto or caves in the mountains or a spa with bubbling healthy waters," he mused. The Wabbit was running out of ideas for his destination but he thought it would spoil the fun if he asked. So he scanned the bus again. It really was so very quiet that he found it puzzling, but the Wabbit decided to be positive. "I’ll have plenty of room to stretch my paws," he said to himself. “I’ll do some puzzles in La Settimana Enigmistica magazine and relax completely." The Wabbit hopped over to the newsagent and hopped back quickly but there was no need to rush because the bus was still quiet. So he hopped on board, paid for his ticket and settled back to enjoy his trip ...
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
"What shall we do now?" asked the Wabbit. "Whatever you want, it’s your vacation," said Lapinette. "I don’t like vacations," grumbled the Wabbit. "It’s not true, you love vacations," replied Lapinette. The Wabbit stamped his rear leg for a while and ground his teeth. "Well, every time I go on a vacation, something happens and it turns into an adventure," he said. "That doesn’t sound too awful," said Lapinette smiling. "Then there's the packing," said the Wabbit, "and I always forget something really important." "Like what?" asked Lapinette. "Like my miniature set of hex socket keys," said the Wabbit. "Why would you need them on vacation?" asked Lapinette. "On a previous holiday," murmured the Wabbit, "I was locked in a filing cabinet. If I hadn’t forgotten my keys I would have got out more quickly." Lapinette knew better than to ask how the Wabbit had become locked in a filing cabinet. "I suppose that was an adventure!" she said. "It was rather a good one in the end," said the Wabbit feeling quite cheered. "There was lots to read and I found out some interesting stuff." Lapinette inclined her head enquiringly. "Like an old manual about things you can build in a shed," said the Wabbit. Lapinette sighed with relief. "So can we go to the gallery now?" she asked. "I’ve quite forgotten what’s on," smiled the Wabbit. "but the building is much more interesting than anything in it." "Do you remember you hopped into an exhibit in the Modern Art Museum and smashed it," said Lapinette. The Wabbit grinned. "No-one knew the difference anyway," he chortled.
Monday, June 18, 2012
It was the Wabbit’s birthday and he crept out early for some peace and quiet. To fool everyone, he took Franco’s jeep instead of his own and he was merrily bowling along singing a favourite song, when his radio crackled. "Sweet Wabbit, Happy Birthday! Where are you?" said Lapinette. "Bowling merrily along," said the Wabbit. "Lovely," said Lapinette, "do have fun. Don’t forget your official function and to pick up your cloak from the laundry." The Wabbit’s ears stood on end and he felt in his fur for the ticket. For a moment all was quiet and the Wabbit sniffed the sea breeze. Suddenly another voice broke in. "Commander, someone’s stolen my jeep," said Franco. "I have it Franco," said the Wabbit. "That’s a relief on your birthday Sir," said Franco and he signed off. The Wabbit was just about to turn on his FM radio when the handset crackled again. "Wabbit, happy birthday," said Puma. "It’s about my adventures, I need to play a bigger role," "Later Puma," said the Wabbit and turned up the dial to hear Fabio Treves on Wablantis Radio. But the music stopped and another voice cut in. "Happy birthday," said Snail. “I was wondering whether you have my screwdriver kit." "In the shed," said the Wabbit and he turned Wablantis up higher. But his handset crackled yet again. "Woooooh!" said a ghostly voice. "Oh hello Ghost Bunny. What can I do for you?" "Enjoying your birthday?" asked Ghost Bunny. "Yes, I’m out for a quiet drive," said the Wabbit. "I made a radio request for you," said Ghost Bunny, "and they’re playing it now." The Wabbit turned the radio up full blast. It was BB King singing Happy Birthday Blues and the Wabbit grinned with all of his 28 teeth and sang along.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
The Wabbit’s paw touched the Wabitron drive and made up a circuit with his ceramic stack memory card. He suddenly glowed bright green and electronic spheres flew hither and thither. The Wabbit called these spheres Score Kalm and they were a computer virus he had developed in his shed especially to fight the Agents of Rabit. But the spheres captivated the Swarm and it became quiet. So the Wabbit began a rhythmic chant, consisting entirely of football scores that the Swarm found soothing. "Accrington Stanley, one," he crooned and stopped for a while. The Swarm waited expectantly. "Hamilton Academicals, one," said the Wabbit calmly. The Swarm started to settle and as they did, the Wabbit's lost data began to write to his ceramic disk and he grinned. "Hertha Berlin, three," said the Wabbit in an ascending voice, then paused for a lengthy period. A small sigh rose from the Swarm. "Moscow Dynamo, two," he said gravely. More of the Swarm settled and their chips yielded an increasing amount of data to the Wabbit's memory card. "Red Star Belgrade, nil" announced the Wabbit and waited. The Swarm sank lower and all the creatures looked up. As the Swarm fluttered to the bottom of the computer, the Wabbit could see that he had nearly all the data he needed. "San Jose Earthquakes, nil," said the Wabbit sternly. The Swarm was completely inert. "And that was the end of World Football," announced the Wabbit. Tucking his ceramic memory card in his fur, he made for a nearby ventilation grille in the back of the computer and hopped quickly away.
Monday, June 11, 2012
The Wabbit backed away as the Swarm advanced. But from the corner of his eye he saw something appear at the back of the old computer. He knew the Swarm of chip creatures hadn’t noticed, because it was much to intent on menacing the Wabbit. So he waved a paw and spoke loudly. “Perhaps we can do a deal for the data?" he said. "The Swarm does no deals," said the largest of the Chip Creatures. “Everyone does deals," said the Wabbit. "It's really quite the thing." “State your case then," said the creature. "Behind me," said the Wabbit waving his paw, "is the Wabitron 3000 vortex hyper drive, which you may access in exchange for giving me our lost data." "What’s in it for us?" asked several members of the Swarm. "All soccer data from 1871," lied the Wabbit, because he was making it up as he went along. "And there's all you could possibly require," he added. "Goals for and against, corners, direct and indirect free kicks, fouls and penalties." There was a murmuring of interest from the Swarm. "Why don’t we just take it and assimilate you anyway?" said the leader of the Swarm. "Because the Wabitron Drive isn’t backwards compatible," said the Wabbit thinking quickly. "So?" said the leader. "You chips will fry," said the Wabbit flippantly. “Exactly what data is it you want from us?" asked the leader. "That," said the Wabbit," is for you to know and me to find out." The Swarm gathered for a confused discussion and the Wabbit knew he had bought some time. So he fished inside his fur for a ceramic chip stack SD card from one of his experiments ...
Friday, June 08, 2012
Thursday, June 07, 2012
The Wabbit got smaller and smaller and found himself in a strange place which appeared to be under the floor. "It's grubby down here," grumbled the Wabbit. The Wabbit grumbled if he didn’t understand things and he was apt to complain bitterly and at length to himself – because usually there was no one else nearby to listen to his complaints. He looked all around anyway and he couldn't help but notice a large box which, on inspection, was fairly recognisable. "It’s an old computer," said the Wabbit with distaste. He looked at it disparagingly because he knew that it was incapable of supporting one of his lists far less a sophisticated program like ListWrite Lite. "The lost data must be in there," he thought, "otherwise I wouldn’t be here." The Wabbit paused to agree with himself, which he very often did. But when he agreed with himself, his ears would tilt back and then suddenly forward in a manner that some found disturbing. So the Wabbit tried not to agree with himself too much in public. "I suppose I’ll have to examine the interior," thought the Wabbit, "and see if there’s any lost data lying around." The Wabbit fished around in his fur for a crosshead screwdriver that he had bought cheaply in a market near the Big White Hospital and poked the side of the computer. In the Wabbit's head there lurked an entertaining idea that he would find a compartment clearly marked Lost Data, just inside the casing. He would then quickly unbolt it and make off. "If only life could be like that," thought the Wabbit and he patiently set to work.
Wednesday, June 06, 2012
The Wabbit was at his laptop attending to his lists - a task for which he had tried several systems. Usually he tried to have umpteen windows open and exchange items at will. But on this occasion he had decided to download a program called ListWrite Light. This had proved colourful yet less than helpful. He now had the exactly the same lists but they were prettier. "Grrr," thought the Wabbit and he jabbed furiously at the laptop keys and tried to uninstall the program. But just at that very moment the Snail Phone rang and the Wabbit grabbed it with a paw. "Oh, hello Snail," said the Wabbit brightly, muttering, "make it quick!" under his breath. "I heard you," said Snail. The Wabbit had forgotten that the Snail Phone was a sensitive device that could hear his thoughts and he silently cursed the new technology that he and Big Blue Snail had developed in a shed. "We cannot fly in the face of change," said Snail. "I suppose not," said the Wabbit, “so what’s new, what’s true?" "I'm relaying a secret message from the Department. Your mission is to retrieve some lost data and for that you must be miniaturised." "I’m a wabbit not a scale model," said the Wabbit. "Prepare to download the program," sighed Snail, "and I’ll be seeing you." The Wabbit's paws started to vibrate and he watched as his laptop got bigger and bigger. "It's not the laptop, it’s you," said Snail's voice from the phone. "I don’t want to be miniaturised," said the Wabbit. "It’s just for an hour," said Snail. "Not even for a second," yelled the Wabbit. "Honey I shrunk the Wabbit," smiled Snail and the line went dead.
Saturday, June 02, 2012
ENPA, National Animal Protection," said Lovely Lapinette. "Here's the ENPA statement," said the Wabbit.
- L’Enpa (Ente nazionale protezione animali) e’ pronto a inviare verso l’Emilia-Romagna ‘Isotta’, il mezzo di soccorso per le gravi emergenze veterinarie. “Una missione a 360° per supportare con cibo, medicinali e sostegno psicologico gli animali coinvolti nel sisma, vedendo a fianco dei veterinari la presenza anche di comportamentisti, fondamentali per aiutare gli animali a superare il trauma causato da questo terribile terremoto.
- ENPA (National animal protection) is ready to send relief to the Emilia-Romagna Isolde for several veterinary agencies. It's a 360 ° mission to give food, medical and emotional support for animals involved in the earthquake. Being at the side of veterinary activists is essential in helping our animals to overcome the trauma caused by this terrible earthquake.