Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The Wabbit and the Unbearable Spam

The Wabbit leaned forward to speak to Lapinette. "Are you sure she’s been serviced properly?" he asked. "Of course I have," said Turbina the Jet Car, "I suppose you want me to take you to Rome?" "I didn’t say anything about Rome," said the Wabbit. "I know what you’re thinking," replied Turbina. "Oh why don’t you two get a garage or something?" said Lapinette huffily and she wiped the remains of a salad sandwich from the dashboard. "Look Wabbit, your dinner’s here from last time." "That’s mine!" said Turbina, so please leave it in the glove compartment." Lapinette slammed the compartment shut. "Wabbit, there’s another mission coming up." The Wabbit brightened and leaned through Turbina's window. "The Department has been receiving an unbearable amount of spam," said Lapinette. "It's arriving every day. No-one can move for spam." "What’s spam, remind me?" asked the Wabbit. "Is it that that food that comes in a can?" Lapinette sighed. "Because I can never open these things," said the Wabbit. Lapinette sighed again. "Well, the opener goes all the way round until nearly the end," said the Wabbit, "and then it comes off and hurts my paw." Lapinette glared at the Wabbit. "Spam is unsolicited e-mail. It’s clogging up departmental bureaucracy." The Wabbit’s eyes sparkled with delight. "I do hope it hasn’t delayed my departmental evaluation." Lapinette shook her head. "That's scheduled as usual," she smiled. "I have an urgent priority appointment in Abu Dhabi," said the Wabbit.