2. The Wabbit and the Coffee Plantation

There was a sudden bang and the coffee shop trembled. "Earthquake" said the Wabbit. He swept Lapinette into his paws and headed under the doorway. But it was too late. Everything shimmered. There was another bang, and they were in the jeep leaping over a forest. "What the binky doodle doo!" exclaimed the Wabbit. Lapinette gritted her teeth. "Did I see you rubbing that coffee pot?" "I was polishing it," sulked the Wabbit. "Where are we, Wabbit?" said a sleepy voice from the back. Skratch rubbed his eyes. "I was having a lovely snooze on the back seat of your jeep. Are we going somewhere?" The Wabbit tried to explain. "I was in this coffee shop when .." Lapinette sniffed and clapped her paws. "That's it, we're in coffee plantation country." The Wabbit gripped the steering wheel as gunfire broke out. "It's hostile." Skratch was pensive. "It looks like the land Puma told me about." Lapinette took cover as best she could. "Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Columbia?" The Wabbit nodded sagely, "Somewhere like that." Just for a second, he recalled soldiers and AK 47s at the side of the road and the sweet smell of aviation fuel. "Incoming," he warned. A shell exploded near the front wheel. "I thought everything had gone quiet in these parts?" said Lapinette. "Nothing ever really goes quietly quiet there," replied the Wabbit. The leap seemed to have finished and he could see where they might possibly land. "Feel like a Rum and Coca Cola," he laughed. Skratch meaowed tunefully. "Working for the Yankee Dollar?"

1. The Wabbit and the Bialetti Shop

The Wabbit browsed the Bialetti Shop with pleasure. He prodded and pushed all the pots in the shop - it wasn't that they did much but he liked it. He chose the shiny blue one because he's never seen that colour pot before. He flipped the lid up, then back down. He did it again. He made it go clangedy clang for a second time before he heard a voice. "You'll break it." Lapinette was browsing at the back, and she disapproved of customers playing with the goods. "You'll break the lid and then it won't fit." The Wabbit had several old coffee pots at home in various states of disrepair. "When the lid comes off, I'll put a paper clip in the hinge," he said. Lapinette knew he'd done this with several machines and usually ended up burning his paws with scalding coffee. But the Wabbit was satisfied the lid was good and strong - so he ignored her. He made for the check out. "I'd like the box," he said "with unlimited safety instructions in forty languages." Lapinette scowled. "You never use them," she said. She visualised the Wabbit's shed with dangerous electrical points and a tangled mass of extension leads. "I like to read safety instructions," replied the Wabbit, "some of them are hilarious." Lapinette looked sceptical. The Wabbit chortled. "Safety doesn't happen by accident." Lapinette snorted. The Wabbit effected a strange accent. "When coffee pot glows red, then is time to be afraid." Lapinette jumped up and down and waved her paws. "Time for the Wabbit to be afraid!" 

The Wabbit and his Adventure Caffè

The team assembled at one of the team's favourite places in Rome. It was a little dark and the Wabbit squinted his eyes. He couldn't see in the dark like Skratch the Cat, and he didn't want to use his super glasses. "Who put the lights out?" he asked. "Perfectly fine for me," replied Skratch. Wabsworth was an android copy of the Wabbit and had no trouble. He'd developed an algorithm for night time vision, but it was green - and sometimes orange. They headed for a table. "What was that for a kind of adventure we just had?" asked the Wabbit. "You were completing art history," decided Skratch. "The toy shop, the lost steam train and the like. Detailing the structure of the objects it seeks to illuminate." Lapinette didn't agree. "Semiotics queries ideas and shapes. Structures are not singular. They are iterative." Wabsworth heaved a sigh. "There's a split between enunciation and what is enunciated. The object so to speak." "The locomotive?" suggested Lapinette. "Not to mention its circumstances," meaowed Skratch," which can never coincide with anything else." The Wabbit was sceptical. "You're treating the locomotive as a work of art." Wabsworth giggled. "I don't think we have a clue what we're talking about." "Does anyone?" asked Lapinette. "I'm seriously talking about a drink," said the Wabbit. They all burst into laughter, when Wabsworth said, "When it comes to the semiotics of drinking, the Wabbit knows his stuff." Lapinette couldn't resist. "It mediates social life." Skratch was to get the last word. "Wine is an index of metropolitan modernity!"

6. The Wabbit and the Jolly Locomotive

The Wabbit had put in a few calls and called in a few favours. At the top of Superga, the scene was set for the off. Wabsworth arrived for his official duties as a part time railway inspector. The Locomotive looked spick and span as could be. The Wabbit had fished out some tartan paint he'd been keeping for such an occasion and given him the once over. "I could do with a better refit," complained the loco, "My smoke box door is peeling." Locomotive's complaints were as frequent as telegraph poles on a railway journey. "The yard is at the bottom of the gradient," snapped Lapinette. "Stop arguing. Now are you ready?" shouted the Wabbit. He paused. "Are your brakes on?" "They are," said the locomotive. The Wabbit nodded. Steam was up. He checked the regulator and throttle and fiddled around for effect. He pushed the reverser bar forward and opened the cylinder cocks. He gave two blasts on the whistle for forward. Woo, woo! He released the brakes and opened the throttle. Wabsworth blew his own whistle. Lapinette lifted her emergency police stick that she'd found in her frock. The locomotive started to move. Slow at first than faster. "Oh glorious rails! I'd forgotten what they were like," said the loco. He trundled along the track. Wabsworth hopped into the cab. Then Lapinette. "Ticket please!" yelled Wabsworth. "You got to hand it to him," quipped the Wabbit. And the last anyone saw was the locomotive heading down the track ... 

5. The Wabbit and the G-Gauge Bus Lane

The bus interior was covered in smoky grime from the loco's funnel. But it travelled all day until evening fell. Round and round Rome went the bus, until everyone was exhausted. "I think we finally got rid of the Toys of Destruction," said the Wabbit. "Maybe they got rid of us," replied Lapinette. With the help of a band of willing passengers, they pushed the huffing, chuffing locomotive from the bus. Romans were tolerant enough. They'd put up with the smoke and no-one seemed to care about moving a large-scale model steam engine. "This way," said Lapinette. She waved her hands as if granting authority to the locomotive. "He seems to like it," commented Lapinette. "He's old fashioned," said the Wabbit. "He'll be asking for a flag next." "Chluff chluff," agreed the loco and puffed out billowing clouds of steam. "I run on G-Gauge but this lane suits," he chluffed. "How on earth did you find your way into that toy shop?" Lapinette put her paws on her hips and stared at him. "Luck" replied the locomotive. They made their way down the dedicated bus lane. The Wabbit had a quiet word with Lapinette. "We should find him a shunting depot or something." The locomotive's brakes screeched. "Can't you find me a location with a little more style?" Lapinette looked thoughtful. "Wabbit, can you think of anything scenic that would suit our iron-wheeled friend?" The Wabbit turned to look at the locomotive.  "How are your traction skills?"

4. The Wabbit and the Train on the Bus

There was no further incursion from the Toys. Nonetheless, the Wabbit knew the Toys had it in for the locomotive. He and Lapinette decided to get him out of town on the first bus of the day. The locomotive was reluctant. Lapinette waved frantically and do did the Wabbit. "Come on, get on," yelled Lapinette. "Can't I just take a train?" The locomotive wasn't happy. Steam issued from his chimney. "I can't get up on that step." The Wabbit was furious. "Of course you can." The locomotive moved back. "The doors will close on me." Lapinette waved and waved. "Join the rest of the world," she yelled. "I won't fit," yelled the locomotive. The Wabbit and Lapinette got behind him and shoved until he was firmly wedged inside. "Where's the conductor?" said the locomotive. "This is not the 1950s," groaned the Wabbit. He put three tickets in the machine - which he felt was more than enough. "Who's going to drive?" said the locomotive. Lapinette jumped up and down and buried her face in her paws. "I will if I have to," said the Wabbit, "now keep still." At that very moment, they heard a door slam and the sound of the engine starting. They began to move. "Is this bus running on time?" asked the locomotive. The Wabbit was completely exasperated. "No," he said, "It's running on biofuel." For a while, the locomotive was quiet. The bus trundled down the road. The Wabbit looked at Lapinette and she looked back at the Wabbit. The locomotive whispered. "Are we there yet?"

3. The Wabbit and the Attack of the Toys

The Wabbit and Lapinette emerged from the Pasticceria Siciliana with the locomotive in tow. The locomotive's whistle was well and truly wet so when the ruckus began, he was taken by surprise. He spewed a gout of steam as he shot into the air. The Toys were fast and their attack was sudden. Crash! A more than life-size doll pushed a truck from the roof with her enormous feet. "Yippee," she cried. "Get these trucks a-truckin'." "I told you so!" shouted the locomotive. He vaulted onto his wheels. "Treacherous devils!" The doll turned her massive head. "We're not treacherous, we're toys. Hence deliciously destructive." The Wabbit's automatic was out and ready, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to shoot at the toys. He ducked as the truck shot past his head. "These are not nice toys," squealed Lapinette. "Contact the Toy Association," yelled the Wabbit. A wooden plane winged in, but drew short of smashing into the bar." Yikes," yelled the Wabbit, "This isn't fun and games." He tucked the automatic away, took shelter in the bar doorway and watched. The locomotive emerged from a corner alcove. "They don't like me. I'm a scale model." Lapinette laughed. "I don't imagine you as a toy boy." Crash! The Wabbit grimaced as another truck got pushed from the roof. "Toys in the attic, the lot of them."