1. The Wabbit and the Big Outage

The big outage went on and on and every computer in the land was affected. So the Wabbit decided to seek out advice. Who better than Hardhack Rat? Hardhack didn't take appointments but the Wabbit didn't have to make one. He crept into a new bay and watched Hardhack run up and down, looking for glitches. The new bay was very chic and even had a soft seat. The Wabbit was secretly impressed but he chose not to show it. "Psst Hardhack. How are things?" Hardhack turned. "Just fine Wabbit. How do like my new minimalist supercomputer?" The Wabbit smiled to himself. "It's rather cute, Hardhack." Hardhack was astonished. "Cute?" he said. "Cute?" He grimaced at the Wabbit. "This is a state-of-the-art beast rated at a zillion exaflops." "It has a nice little seat," said the Wabbit. "That is a powerful controller," shouted Hardhack. "It helps execute neural functions equivalent to my Brian." "You mean brain surely?" laughed the Wabbit. Hardhack stuck his nose in the air. "It's what I call my brain," he said. "Only teasing," snickered the Wabbit. Hardhack put his paws on his fur. "Oh you! You're incorrigible. What can I do for you anyway?" He smiled. The Wabbit strode around looking at things. "We've had a big outage. You don't seem affected." Hardhack guffawed loudly. "I wouldn't attach this to the net. Do you think I'm mad?" The Wabbit shrugged. "It's a problem for the Department. I'm supposed to fix it." Hardhack thought for a minute. "You've considered mice." It was the Wabbit's turn to think. "I have not." Hardhack was philosophical "Oh, they talk about faulty configuration changes and backbone routers, but 70% of problems are caused by mice." The Wabbit gave that some thought. "You could be spot-on..."
[Background image by Pixabay]

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The team gathered in a Caffè near the station. There had been a big fire and they wanted to inspect the damage - but it was all internal and nothing much to see. "I'm glad this place is still functioning," said Lapinette. "Yes, touch and go," replied the Wabbit. The exterior scaffolding was still in place, and they glanced round at it. "I suppose they're still putting it out," said Wabsworth. They sniffed the air. An acrid smell remained. "Blowtorch and insulation?" asked Wabsworth. The Wabbit shook his head gravely. "Just a spark," commented Lapinette. They all nodded. "Oh look! Here's Skratch," said Wabsworth, "He'll tell us what kind of adventure you just had." Skratch's call was long, as he hove into sight. "That was a pleasant adventure," he meaowed. "Nothing more than that Skratch?" Wabsworth smiled and pointed at Lapinette. Then he put both paws to his eyes and then pointed at Skratch. "Hmmm. It was mythological and barely covered by signification," said Skratch. Lapinette smiled. "It was a zone beyond!" "Elusive and ineffable," commented the Wabbit. Lapinette laughed. "You were certainly elusive and ineffable inside that mausoleum." The Wabbit's ears twitched. "No real danger there." Lapinette nearly fell of her chair laughing. Wabsworth laughed too. "The ghost eagle as an autonomous entity is quite a semiotic threat." Skratch grinned. "Where's that eagle now? He seemed clued in on movie history." The Wabbit smirked. "Probably down by the cemetery gate hiring himself out." Lapinette was helpless with mirth. "Then he vanishes after taking the money." The Wabbit suddenly tapped the table. "Talking of vanishing, where's our drinks?" "They're mythological," giggled Lapinette.

6. Lapinette and the Spectre of the Eagle

Lapinette pulled the Wabbit out and dropped him over the edge. But just as she did, the eagle took off from his statue. Fully formed he took flight from Lapinette's bullets. The Wabbit struggled to find a grip on the mausoleum, and the eagle didn't make it any easier. A giant wing almost swept him down as he batted at it with an ineffectual paw. "You can't shoot me," cried the eagle. "I'm a ghost!" All the same, a bullet clipped a wing and feathers flew as feathers do. "Take that," shouted Lapinette. "Take that and bother us no more." The eagle swooped round. "I only wanted a friend to talk to." Lapinette stood her ground. "You better choose your friends carefully and not imprison them. Be a nice friendly eagle from now on." She waved her automatic. The eagle settled on the ground and the Wabbit dropped down and strode up to him. "You were a good tour guide; you could make a euro or two." The eagle brightened. "Maybe I could." But then his face fell. "What would I do that sets me apart." Lapinette jumped down from the mausoleum. "Eagle feathers are in big demand." The eagle looked mournful. "They're illegal to possess." The Wabbit had a think. "They're ghost eagle feathers; they wouldn't last long." The eagle soared into the sky. "I'm an official tour guide then. I'll hang out by the cemetery gates." The Wabbit looked at Lapinette. Lapinette looked back and shook her head. "We have to sort everything out. It's exhausting." The Wabbit dusted off his fur. "Rewarding though." "What's our reward?" replied Lapinette. "I could use a drink," said the Wabbit. "There's an Eagle Pub," said Lapinette. The Wabbit looked at her. "It's in Pozzo Strada," she said. The Wabbit laughed. "They have everything there."
[The Eagle House Irish Pub is in Via Riete 4 (Corso Franca, Torino)]

5. Lapinette and the Locked Mausoleum.

Lapinette wondered what had happened to the Wabbit. She knew his meanders could take a while. All the same, it was unusual. She meandered through the cemetery with a little more purpose. And that was when she saw it. A can of WD40 had rolled to the side of a mausoleum - and its distinctive red straw was pointing to it. She picked it up with one paw and plucked her automatic from her frock with the other. "It's a clue," she murmured. Could the Wabbit be trapped inside the mausoleum? With a great deal of care, she looked round the side and placed her ear against the wall. With that ear she could hear the dead speak. She heard the muffled sound of pacing and beating and hammering. "It sounds like the Wabbit all right." She listened a little more closely. There was a lot of swearing and the sound of things being thrown against the wall. She knocked forcefully. "Is that you Wabbit? You're always getting locked into places." There was a spluttering and she thought she heard him say "Watch out for the eagle." Lapinette thought that was odd. "Perhaps you found old coins. Is there a key?" The sweary reply indicated a key was not to be found. "Stand back then, I'm coming in," she said. She hitched up her frock and started to climb the brickwork. There were plenty of toe holds and she got to the top easily. In the roof was small skylight and she prised it back to find herself looking at the Wabbit. "What took you so long?" he said. Lapinette offered a paw. "I took the scenic route. Did you know Isa Bluette is here?" "How's she keeping?" asked the Wabbit.

[Isa Bluette was an Italian showgirl of the twenties and thirties.]

4. The Wabbit and the Unexpected Turn

The Wabbit had just finished a chat when the eagle picked him up. Before he knew what was happening, he was headed back to where he started. "I think you're an awfully good companion," said the eagle," I think I'll keep you." He landed by the mausoleum and dragged the Wabbit to the door. The Wabbit knew he couldn't overpower a giant eagle so he slipped his paw into his fur and threw the first thing he could locate onto the ground. It was a can of WD40. Anyone who knew the Wabbit, would know he'd been there. "We're going to have such good conversations," shouted the eagle, "you can bet we are." The Wabbit flailed but he couldn't escape the grip of the talons. "I'm really rather boring," he protested. The eagle swept him through the door. "Not at all, you're awfully good fun," he yelled. "You can accompany me on my mausoleum tour. You'll be a graveyard smash." He spread his wings and pushed the Wabbit inside. "The Wabbit continued to protest. "I'm such a terrible windbag. On and on I go. Better release me if you know what's good for you." The door clanged shut. "See you later for a nice chat," said the eagle. The Wabbit heard the fluttering of wings as the eagle resumed his perch. He shrugged and looked round. It was fairly dark, but he could make out some plaques, flowers and the odd photo. "There might be visitors," he thought, "It might even be today." He tried to look out the window, but it was frosted glass and not very big. So he couldn't see much. "I suppose I could smash my way out," he thought and then smiled. "Wah hoo. Graveyard smash!"

3. The Wabbit and the Old Engineer

The Wabbit found himself lifted and transported to another grave. He was deposited without ceremony beside a lifelike figure. "This looks like the person himself," said the Wabbit. The eagle spread his wings wide. "Now you can tell me what he did in life." The Wabbit screwed up his eyes. "A kind of scientist. An engineer probably." The eagle made high pitched whistling noises. "Very good Wabbit, I didn't know you were so knowledgeable." The Wabbit grinned. "I read the inscription. And he has intelligent eyes." The eagle laughed. "You make him sound like a dog." The Wabbit patted him on the shoulder. "I'm rather more than a dog, even though I'm dead," said the statue. "My name is Francesco Casabella. How are my bursaries doing?" The eagle intervened. "They go to students in reduced economic circumstances as was your wish." Francesco's statue nodded. "I never hear a thing; you know how it is." The Wabbit thought it best to change the subject. "This seems like a pleasant spot." Francesco spoke again. "Yes. My tomb was donated by the Society of Engineers. I was poor and gave night classes in Bra. Then I got my degree. I built many fine buildings and factories thereafter." The Wabbit gestured to the figures left on his tomb and gave his shoulder another pat. "You have some young admirers I see." The statue seemed to come alive. "I always liked the young people." The eagle made more whistling noises. "We'd best be going. He gets maudlin." The Wabbit smiled and backed away. Everything went back to normal. "This is quite a cemetery," said the Wabbit. "Tell me about it," said the eagle.

2. The Wabbit hears of Stefano Pittaluga

The bird transformed into a magnificent eagle and transported the Wabbit around the cemetery. Then he swooped down and deposited the Wabbit by a graveside. The Wabbit looked at the recumbent statue on the plinth. "This is the grave of Stefano Pittaluga. A cinema impresario who acquired studios in Turin." The Wabbit walked around the plinth. The eagle swooped and dropped down to sit by the statue. "You probably won't know him. He was ahead of his time in introducing sound cinemas." The Wabbit agreed. "You're absolutely right, I never heard of him." The eagle lifted off and swooped around a bit. Then returned to sit by the statue. "He moved to Rome and released foreign films. People loved it." "What happened to him?" The eagle laughed. "He died in 1931, otherwise we wouldn't be here." The Wabbit pointed. "It says there 1932." "Don't believe everything you read," said the eagle. The Wabbit knelt by the plinth. "I can see someone has been here recently." The eagle liked a joke. "Flowers. He's very popular with the old age pensioners." The Wabbit smiled. But he wanted to know who the woman statue was. "I think she was a lady friend," said the eagle. "Oh really," said the Wabbit, "that's show business I guess." The eagle became serious. "Yes, on hearing of his death she came here and prostrated herself by the grave. She wouldn't go away and died of starvation." The Wabbit looked astonished and his eyes widened. The eagle winked. "Not at all. I made that up." The eagle tried for a grin, but only managed to look sinister. The Wabbit considered everything he's heard. "I know a cat who would like to hear of this." "Is his name Felix?" asked the eagle. "No. Skratch," replied the Wabbit. "Silly name," said the eagle.