The Wabbit and Lapinette hopped along the Corso Vinzaglio,
deep in thought. “Well you’re very popular,” said Lapinette suddenly. The Wabbit
cast a sidelong glance. “With the bomb in the market place, I mean,” added Lapinette.
” Sure,” said the Wabbit. “It had your name on it,” grimaced Lapinette. “I’m a
smash hit!” replied the Wabbit. “Ah yes, of course,” said Lapinette. “Your enemies
hit on you!” The Wabbit smiled. “Not quite,” he murmured. “That would imply an abrupt
and disrespectful social manoeuvre.” “ Give me an example,” said Lapinette. “He
hit on me for some cash,” scowled the Wabbit. Lapinette made enormous eyes and
the Wabbit wasn’t sure if she was trying to pull his leg. He carried on
regardless. “My enemies took out a hit on me,” said the Wabbit. “But they didn’t
actually hit you,” smiled Lapinette. “Fortunately
not,” said the Wabbit. “If they’d hit me, they would have considered they had hit
the nail on the head.” “But instead you hit the ground running,” suggested Lapinette.
“More or less," grinned the Wabbit, ”I think you have the hang of it.” Lapinette
thought and thought and then she found what she was looking for. “It’s just like
that film with Sydney Poitier in it,” she said innocently. “Blackboard Jungle?”
asked the Wabbit. “No,” smiled Lapinette. Without warning she dug him hard in
the ribs and then in a low tone, whispered, ”In the hit of the night!”
