Dealing with the devil demanded a different kind of Adventure Caffè. They chose the sun, a beach and a table loaded with wine. The tattered canopy fluttered in a light breeze. It was the end of the season. It was quiet. "OK," said the Wabbit. "What was that for a sort of adventure Skratch?" Skratch meaowed with passion. "I liked the iteration of the devil as modern. It was a challenge to realism, locating the ordinary world of plausible social interaction within a wider more primitive universe of magic, sorcery and supernatural forces." Lapinette grinned. "That's Brottman on Polanski." The Wabbit frowned. "How on earth do you remember these things, Lapinette?" Lapinette pouted. "I read and recall." Wabsworth jumped in. "But we kept the trappings of tail and ears. That was the medieval Catholic Satanic rubric, reinforcing the manifesting sins of patriarchy." Silence fell. A wind sprang up. "Shall we take that wine and go inside," said Lapinette. "I propose a toast first," said Wabsworth and he raised a glass high. "The Devil and the rest!" They all charged their glasses and followed suit. "The Deil tak the hindmost," yelled the Wabbit. Then they laughed and laughed and laughed.
