4. The Wabbit and the Lower Cases

The Wabbit and Lapinette strolled over to meet the lower cases and they were grumbling. The letter s addressed Lapinette directly. "What are the Capitals doing now?" It was the Wabbit who replied. "Capital A is coming to beat you up, but he's going to be some time." The other letters were waiting to cross the road and they all turned round. "We've had enough of being oppressed by the Capitals. We have the weight of numbers. We will defeat them." The letter b tapped the Wabbit on the leg. "I'm b," he said. "Pleased to meet you," said the Wabbit, "what would you like to be when you grow up?" The small letters were mortally offended. "We are all grown up and perfectly capable of making our way in the world!" Lapinette tried to smooth things over. "We only meant you were small." The letters talked amongst themselves then pushed the letter w forward. "Will you help us to draw up a list of our demands?" The Wabbit dug in his fur and took out a small notebook and a pen. "Please write it all in lower case," said the o. The Wabbit nodded gravely. "Firstly," said the w, "capitals are henceforth to come at the end of sentences." The rest piped up. "And all people names shall end in a capital and not begin it." They gathered to discuss it further. Then the s turned round. "All place names shall have no capitals at all." The Wabbit noted down all the points, then read them aloud. There was a murmur of agreement. But Lapinette had an important question. "To whom shall we take these proposals?" The Wabbit made a suggestion. "The dictionary people?" The letters went into a huddle and came up with a question. "Do dictionary people agree on things?" The Wabbit went into a huddle with himself and then came up with an answer. "Mostly," he said.

3. The Wabbit and the Indefinite Article

The Wabbit thought no more about it. But he was making his way along Via Andrea Doria when he came across an obstacle. There was Lapinette and she was staring at a giant Letter A, which was obstructing the sidewalk. "Get out of the way," she shouted and she waved her arms. "I will not," said the Latter A. "I'm getting up and standing up for my rights." Lapinette hopped from one leg to another. "Do it somewhere else!" The Wabbit watched for a little while and then he popped his head around the letter. "Hello Lapinette." Lapinette smiled and waved a greeting. "I'm trying to persuade this letter that he should locate elsewhere." The letter twitched a little. "I'm the indefinite article and I'm not necessarily a he." Lapinette placed her arms at her side and said in no uncertain terms. "I don't care. The sidewalk is for pedestrians." The Wabbit decided to get involved. "We've been getting trouble from your kind," he said. "My kind?" said the Letter, "Do you mean these other non-standard letters?" The Wabbit was lost for words. "Perhaps you're referring to the lower cases?" Now the Letter moved up and down. "We've had enough of these lower case varmints, always around our feet. We're tired of them!" The Wabbit shook his head. "Couldn't you conduct your struggle in a library or maybe even the Internet?" "No" cried the Letter A, "Were taking to the streets and soon we'll take up arms! Death to the lower cases! We shall not rest until we rid the world of them all." Lapinette was appalled. "That's not very inclusive." The Wabbit agreed. But the Letter A stood his ground. "I see some lower cases over there, I'm going to get them!" He tried to move but couldn't go fast. "Would you like a push?" smirked the Wabbit.

2. Skratch and the Way of Words

The Wabbit made his way along Via Nizza in search of Skratch when he hear a meowing behind him. He pretended not to hear and instead spoke to the poster. "I was wondering poster, why you refer to the summer? Although this is a bright day, it's Winter and yet you proclaim a different season." Skratch was beside himself. "Wabbit, Wabbit! It's me Skratch and I know all about words." The Wabbit slowly turned. "Oh it's you, Skratch. I thought that poster was speaking." Skratch climbed down from the tree. "As time passes, Wabbit, the poster becomes a sign of something else. Something long past and hard to remember." The Wabbit nodded. "True. Summer is indeed long past and very hard to remember." Skratch paused and licked his paws. "You were looking for me Wabbit?" "I was because I wanted to ask you about words," said the Wabbit, "I wondered if words could fight amongst themselves." Skratch grew interested. "What might they fight about?" The Wabbit grew pensive and replied. "Their meanings." Skratch launched into explanation. "Words have arbitrary and culturally prescribed meanings and we could assign meanings to words as we went along. As long as we agreed on the meanings all would be well." The Wabbit looked round as if someone might hear him. "Supposing the words didn't like their meanings. Supposing there was conflict." Skratch was becoming interested. "You mean if words were self-serving entities with a conscious point of view?" The Wabbit nodded his agreement. "Yes, supposing words didn't like the typeface they were set in - and supposing they went to war." Skratch laughed. "You do have a vivid imagination, Wabbit." The leaves on the sidewalk rustled in a breeze that sprung from nowhere. "Not at all," said the poster. "I should be set in Times New Roman." The Wabbit spoke sharply. "I told you there'd be trouble."

1. The Wabbit and the Meaning of Words.

The Wabbit walked along the porticos musing on anything he could muse on. He'd never given the Caffè sign a second glance. He merely knew it to be a place that sold extremely fine coffee. But today he looked up at it and thought for a minute. An acquaintance had given him to believe that the sign had an offensive word and he just couldn't understand why. Apart from the successful Italian rock band, he only knew it as a descriptive term of endearment in Spanish - and he'd argued with the acquaintance that The little black girl Caffè just didn't fit the bill. The friend had disagreed and had stalked off in high dudgeon, leaving the Wabbit bemused. The Wabbit shook his head. After all, he was a brown rabbit and proud; and he thought, "This is something I must take up with Skratch the Cat." So he bowled down the road, wondering about words. "What if words could take up arms against their oppressors and fight for their rights? What if they disagreed? The streets would be wash with warring factions all claiming authenticity. And typefaces too!" Such were his thoughts. He imagined it for a bit, seeing words in various fonts and sizes clashing at dawn. Capitals would wage war on lower case. Italics against Roman against Kanji. Upright might pit themselves against oblique. In the Wabbit's mind, vast armies drew up in opposition. Hiragana and Katakana waved banners at each other as if in a film by Akira Kurosawa. Written on their banners were the same words with different meanings. It was all quite overwhelming. The Wabbit spotted Skratch loping further down the porticos and he chased after him shouting in Ariel Bold ...

The Wabbit and the St Andrew's Caffè

The team gathered as always as the Adventure Caffè. It was an untidy looking place that the Wabbit had chosen carefully - because it was St Andrews Day, and the important thing was the Scottishness of the whisky. Nothing must detract from it. Skratch the Cat was late as usual, but he had under his arm the Guest of Honour; a bottle of Laphroaig whisky straight from the distillery. A man in a kilt had brought it directly from the plane and Skratch had picked it up. It was a peaty affair smelling faintly of diesel fuel and wellington boots. The Wabbit was well pleased. "Careful with that, Skratch," said the Wabbit, "But before we start you must tell us what sort of Adventure we just had." Skratch meaowed furiously. "The liberating qualities of the hypertext were much in evidence," he announced. "Unconscious fantasies were confronted in a manner which countered expected paradigms." Wabsworth nodded in approval. "And the self-consciousness involved allows for ritual expressions such as the Wabbit's priestly vestments." The Wabbit expressed mock horror. "I'd hardly say the kilt was a priestly vestment." But Lapinette was quite firm. "That kind of fashion utterance is a specific linguistic system signifying the world." She paused for effect. "Oh all right, if you say so," smiled the Wabbit. Skratch towered over everyone. "What does whisky signify?" "Life," said the Wabbit. "Then pour us four whiskies, let's celebrate life," said Lapinette. "I see no glasses," said Wabsworth. The Wabbit smiled and then reached into his fur ...

7. Lapinette and the Grand Finale

Lovely Lapinette opened the folder and waved it around. The audience went completely mad. She shielded her eyes from what was written inside. "It's what you've all been waiting for!" she yelled. "It's the Rabbit of the Year!" She unshielded her eyes. "It says the Rabbit of the Year is ..." Her voice was unsteady. She couldn't believe what was written there. "Lovely Lapinette?" She looked across the audience and they were ecstatic. "It looks like ... it's me," she gasped. The Wabbit grabbed her paw. The band started to play "She's a Winner," by the Golden Jazz Band. Fireworks exploded overhead. Lapinette leapt in the air. "It's me, It's me, it's me!" The Wabbit detached his paw to applaud. To the delight of the audience, Wabsworth and Skratch the Cat came on stage. They too applauded wildly. "Couldn't go to a nicer rabbit," said Skratch. Wabsworth nodded in agreement. Lapinette tried to compose herself. "But I didn't know I'd been nominated," she said. "It was apparently all a last-minute affair, but completely within the rules," said the Wabbit. "I wonder who?" smiled Lapinette. The Wabbit wasn't giving anything away. "Nominations are of course, confidential." He suppressed a smile. Lapinette pirouetted for her adoring fans. "How can I top this?" she sighed. "With a champagne reception," said the Wabbit. "There's carrot canapes and all manner of goodies backstage." The Wabbit took her by the paw once more. "You have to sign autographs, me first." "Where shall I sign?" said Lapinette. "I quite forgot my autograph book," grinned the Wabbit. "I'm sure I'll find somewhere," smirked Lapinette.

6. The Wabbit and the Big Ceremony

It was the night of the Award Ceremony and the atmosphere was electric. The audience assembled and they were rather noisy until Lapinette called for hush. Under her paw she held the results. All she had to do was open the folder and read out the contents. The Wabbit was resplendent in his kilt. Lapinette had darned the moth holes like the best invisible mender and ironed each pleat until it was immaculate. He placed his paws on his belt and rolled his tummy out. The band began to play triumphal music and a loudspeaker blared out the procedure. The Wabbit quipped to Lapinette. "This won't take too long will it? I said I'd meet Wabsworth and Skratch for a quiet game of cards." Lapinette knew the camera was cutting in - so she was safe to stamp on his foot. The Wabbit groaned. "Mind my Ghillie Brogues, they're not paid for." Lapinette grinned and turned to face the audience. "Thank you all for coming. It's going to be such a wonderful evening" She held up her folder. "I have the results here. I know you've all been waiting with bated breath." The audience cheered with vigour. The Wabbit noticed Skratch and Wabsworth and Moloch creep onto the balcony. The audience noticed them too and clapped in spontaneous applause. The band broke into a Horace Silver jazz classic, How did it Happen? The Wabbit nodded approvingly.  Then the music faded, and the audience fell silent. Lovely Lapinette lifted the folder high in the air. She brought it down slowly and began to open it. "Everyone that's getting an award is written down in here. Are you ready?" The audience screamed and yelled. Lapinette opened the folder. "And the Rabbit of the Year is ..."