7. The Wabbit and the Friends of Turin

The Wabbit did his best with the venue. It was only partially in the open air, but it was spacious and accommodated the Phrenology head. The wooden bird had room to swoop and the two Garibaldini had a fence to lean on. There, they happily exchanged stories and guffawed. Everything was going to plan. Lapinette arrived. "Everyone's got something to drink but me." The Wabbit handed her a glass of Prosecco. "What's this do called?" she asked. The Wabbit laughed. "Nominally, it's the Revolutionary Friends of Torino." Lapinette pirouetted. "Introduce to me to your new pals." The Wabbit waved a paw. "These are the two Garibaldini, over there is Mr Phrenology Head and beside you, tucking into 3-in-One, is Ornithopter." Lapinette nodded politely. Everyone nodded back. The Wabbit felt obliged to explain how they arrived. "It's all the fault of the interior designers. They were planned for my Risorgimento-themed office but were overlooked in the back of the furniture truck." Lapinette made a clicking sound with her teeth. "Now you're obliged to look after them." The Phrenology head called across to Lapinette. "May I read your bumps, your ladyship." Lapinette wore a sickly expression. "My bumps are already in good order," she said. The Garibaldini were suitably deferential and bowed from the waist. "A toast to your loveliness!" The Ornithopter finished slurping 3-in-One oil. "Perhaps I could interest you in a ride?" "Later," nodded Lapinette. She sipped her Prosecco and looked daggers at the Wabbit, who ventured, "Not very sensible?" Lapinette put her paws on her hips. "I predict a riot."

6. The Wabbit and the Phrenology Head

The Wabbit made his way out of the archives department of the Risorgimento Museum where he'd being carrying out research before his reception. But he'd got no further than the courtyard when a shadow fell across his path and a voice spoke to him. "May I attend your reception, Wabbit?" The Wabbit was getting used to this. "You nearly knocked me over, Mr Head." The head swayed slightly. I'm deeply sorry to startle you, Wabbit." The Wabbit didn't startle easily but he let that one go. He took a good look at the head and recognised it from the same time period as the Risorgimento. So he immediately thought of the accursed interior designers. "Did you by any chance come in a van with design people?" The head stabilised. "I found them poor company," he complained. The Wabbit sighed. "Everyone does." The head was dismayed. "I find people in this time rather shallow." "You're not alone," shrugged the Wabbit, "but how did you find out about my reception?" The head shook back and forth as if in mirth. "I was in the same van as a wooden mechanical bird, whom I did find engaging." The Wabbit gave his reception some thought. "I'm not sure I have space to get you in. Perhaps I'll hold it in the open air." The head considered it. "That would be nice. As a phrenologist, I will observe and know everyone - and their superior functions." The Wabbit smiled. "Maybe eventually." The head actually laughed. "I will add bumps to their heads." Now the Wabbit doubled up with mirth. "Can I do it?"

5. The Wabbit and the Ornithopter

Leaving the Garibaldini to freshen up, the Wabbit walked across the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele bridge. It wasn't unusual to see birds of prey swooping in the currents. So he paid no particular attention when he saw some kind of creature coming his way. But as it came closer he could see it resembled a golden eagle. Closer and closer it came, until the Wabbit could make out its mechanical structure. His smile turned to a frown. "It's an ornithopter!" thought the Wabbit. The mechanical bird flapped its wings a little. It flew up in the air and turned around and came back until its beak was nearly level with the Wabbit. "Hello!" it squawked. Its orange beak quivered with delight. "Pleased to meet you!" The Wabbit was getting the hang of this. "Hello," he said, "Did you come with the interior designers?" The bird flew up and down along the river, then returned. "I can't find them," it said. "I was in a van and they opened the door and I flew out. Then I lost them." The Wabbit grinned. "I hardly think that matters. They seem to have lost the run of things themselves." The bird hovered. "I like this river." "Been far?" asked the Wabbit. "I went as far as a water-bound city and back," replied the bird." The Wabbit was astonished. "Venice. That far?" The bird took off at speed and returned just as quickly. "It's not that far," said the bird. "I saw lots of strange things." The Wabbit thought for a minute. "Perhaps you'd like to come to our reception?" The bird considered. He moved his head and it creaked slightly. "Any 3-in-One oil?" "All you can drink," said the Wabbit. "Original?" said the bird. The Wabbit laughed. "Totally the right stuff."

4. The Wabbit and the New Garibaldini

The Wabbit lost sight of the old soldiers for a while but he caught up with them on a metro platform. They were patrolling up and down with all the officiousness they could muster. The Wabbit noticed something. He knew they were supposed to be Garibaldini, but everything was wrong. Their jackets were way too flowery and their hats were not quite right. It was when he saw the rifles, he knew something was badly amiss. They were his own special issue Snazer guns and they were strictly restricted. He tapped a soldier on the back. "Who goes there?" enquired the soldier. "Commander Wabbit," replied the Wabbit. They snapped to attention and saluted. "I fear there's been an error," said the Wabbit, "Garibaldi is long victorious." "Good news," said one soldier. "Hurrah," said the other. "We have assumed this detail," said the first soldier. "We are patrolling the great iron railroad. Are you with Cavour?" The Wabbit shook his head, but he'd had an idea. "Did you perhaps come with the interior designers?" "We came in a van," said the soldier, "with a lot of strange stuff. Then we were left alone in an unfamiliar building." The Wabbit realised the Risorgimento remodelling of his offices had resulted in unintended consequences. "I'm having a little reception for the Revolutionary Friends of Torino," said the Wabbit, "so perhaps you'll join us for refreshments." "Will there be bagna càuda?" asked a soldier. "With cardooms?" said the other. The Wabbit was delighted. "Your authenticity is showing," he said.

[Bagna càuda is a hot dish from Piedmont]

3. The Wabbit and the Rattle of Gunfire.

The Wabbit tried to forget about his new office and sauntered down the porticos thinking of other things.  He looked at a nearby eating establishment and wrinkled his nose. If it described itself as a restaurant it had no business selling pizzas. That was his view and he was going to stick to it.  He was so busy thinking that he didn't take any notice of the first crack. He thought it was a car backfiring. When the second came he also paid scant attention. Then when it became a rattle accompanied by flying plaster he ducked down and took evasive action. Down on the ground, he tried to see where it came from. There was another crackle. It looked like it came from the other side of the street. A barrel poked out from a window and occassionally issued flame. The Wabbit bolted for the other side but the bullets followed him. They were a very heavy guage and smacked into buses, trams and cars. Traffic came to a standstill. The Wabbit rolled under a bus shelter. He was on the same side of the road as the weapon now, and he'd narrowed the angle. It gave him time to think. Who could this interloper be? Maybe there was more than one. He saw two figures dart out from a building carrying a massive weapon. But the weapon was old. Very old. And so were the figures. "Why me?" thought the Wabbit, "why does it always fall to me to deal with bizarre actions?" The Wabbit got to his feet and dusted himself down. Bits of plaster flicked everywhere. He watched the two figures disappear into the metro. "Going to catch a train are you?" mused the Wabbit. He flicked a last piece of plaster from his fur. "I'll catch up with you! And you're getting the dry cleaning bills."

2. The Wabbit and the Design Invasion

 

The Wabbit searched for his old desk in vain. But it had been replaced. Everything was furnished in a retro style from the time of the Risorgimento. All his disparate bundles of papers had gone. Old invoices waiting for payment had disappeared. In their place, an old revolver and a book about the life and times of Garibaldi lay on a clean desk. The Wabbit sat down and gazed in amazement. He looked at Lapinette. "What the Binky is going on?" Lapinette grinned. "The Department brought interior designers in. Everyone needs a clean start. That's what they said." The Wabbit lifted the revolver and sniffed it. "This is ancient," he said. Lapinette sprang in the air then pirouetted around. "You're not supposed to use it, Wabbit. It's supposed to give you ideas." The Wabbit flourished the gun and thought merciless thoughts about interior designers. "It's given me ideas all right." He put the gun down and leafed through the book. "Inspirational," he grinned, "I could always hit somebody with it." Lapinette continued to dance around. "I think it's a great idea." The Wabbit toyed with the pistol and spoke with great enthusiasm. "First we'll get Garibaldi out of prison." Lapinette laughed. "He was released in 1831."  The Wabbit laughed too. "Better late than never." Lapinette was still for just an instant. She placed her paws on her hips. "Now pay attention, Wabbit. This is supposed to give you ideas for combating the wicked Agents of Rabit." The Wabbit stood up waving the old revolver. "Send out the 400 rabbits. Arrest the usual suspects!" Lapinette sighed. "Will you be serious for just a minute?" The Wabbit frowned. "I was being serious."

1. The Wabbit and a Difficult Admittance

The Wabbit stomped up the stairs of the Department of Wabbit Affairs. He was in a bad mood for several reasons. He'd been called in for new orders just when he was taking a well-earned break. But when he'd turned up, he found that new security protocols had been put in place. The doorman had asked him for his pass. The Wabbit never carried it. He'd known the doorman for more than ten years and pointed this out to the doorman. But the doorman insisted it was more than his job was worth to let him in. The Wabbit had to return to the house and go through drawer after drawer. Finally he'd found it but the doorman pointed out that it was out of date. In order to get it re-validated he had to enter the building but the doorman continued to refuse him admittance. Finally, he'd bribed the doorman to look the other way. This cost him a dinner for two at Piano 35, the slickest restaurant in town. So he growled on his way and made a detour to the credentials department, where a very large rabbit put him through an interrogation the like of which he'd never endured. "This better be an exciting mission," he said to himself. He thrust his new pass deep into his fur and scowled. "The Ministry for Revenge will hear of this." His blood boiled. But then he heard the voice of Lovely Lapinette calling after him. He looked back as she shouted, "I've got your new pass, it came in the post." The Wabbit now had two new passes, but said nothing. He slid the duplicate further into his fur and smiled. "Thank you so much, Lapinette." Lapinette looked at him. "How did you get in?" "Charm," said the Wabbit.