In a single instant the Wabbit found himself looking down on
a massive outdoor cinema screen and he didn’t pause to think why. He knew
he was watching a film of his recent adventure, but he didn’t give that a
second thought. This was because the Wabbit was very keen on films and where cinemas were
concerned he knew exactly what he wanted. Normally he would have sat at the
front in the middle, because from that position he could assess whether the
projection was just right. It was his custom to look back sternly at the
projectionist in his box and then frown until the picture was correctly adjusted to
his satisfaction. But now, even from the very back, the Wabbit could see what
was required. "Projectionist, projectionist!" he cried, in as loud a
voice as he could muster. He thought he could hear a faint squeak from the
projection box so he carried on. "It’s a little out of focus, just a bit
soft," he yelled. The picture became crisper. "And it’s fuzzy at the
edges." The picture sharpened all round. "Slight tilt down at the
right," he called. The picture moved into position. "Are you certain
your projector is rock steady?" he demanded. "There’s a bit of jump
and weave." The picture lost its slight shake and became steady.
"Perfect," said the Wabbit and leaned forward to watch - until he
became aware of a familiar voice that wasn’t part of the film soundtrack. The
voice was coming from beside him and it was getting louder. "Wabbit?
Hello! Are you there? Wabbit!" ...
