4. The Wabbit and the Manhole Cover

The second the Wabbit touched the bottom drawer he was thrust onto a dark stairway. He seemed to have no option but to climb it. At the top, a cover blocked his way. He heaved against it. It wouldn't budge. He yelled. Nothing happened. But he noticed a chink of light. He slipped the cover up and across, only to see Lapinette. She reached out a paw. "I thought I could hear you shouting. What are you doing in there? Why are your ears misshapen?" She touched them. His ears returned to normal. "I wish I knew," growled the Wabbit, "Lapinette, how did you get here?" Lapinette smiled. "Your location tracker is on." The Wabbit climbed out but got his foot stuck. "I never knew I had one." "New departmental policy," replied Lapinette. The Wabbit shook his head. "Do you have one?" he asked. "I'm exempt," laughed Lapinette, "due to my rank." Lapinette had such an impossibly high rank that the Wabbit didn't know what it was. He scowled, and scrambled all the way onto the sidewalk. "Where does that tunnel come out?" said Lapinette. "In a secret bottom drawer in my office," mused the Wabbit, "I didn't know it was there. Then I couldn't find my way back." Lapinette had a think. "Anything special about it?" The Wabbit cast his mind back. The filing cabinet said the bottom drawer had Prosecco in it." Lapinette turned on her heel. "Let's go to your office and find that Prosecco." The Wabbit cheered up. "That sounds like a plan!" 

3. The Wabbit's Stationery Cupboard

The second hand twitched and the Wabbit was hurled across the room, barely escaping being trapped in the top drawer of his stationery cabinet. Even though it held all his glue and bluetack and Sellotape, he didn't stick. He found himself hurled into the air, bloated like a filthy toad with a secret spite. "I don't like this!" he yelled. "What did I ever do to you?" The cupboard failed to reply. The door slammed closed. The Wabbit was annoyed because he'd purchased the cabinet in good faith. "Stupid cupboard!" he yelled, "I'm not using your company again!" He spiralled round and round. He noticed a cable sticking from the desk. It was an attempt to keep a tidy office, a strategy that had never worked and probably never would - but he grabbed it nonetheless. It had some slack and he reeled it in. As he reeled, he became less bloated. "As long as I don't turn into a battery charger," he murmured. At last he returned to his normal size. "Thanks," he said to the charger cable. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?" "I'm one of the many you keep here," it said. "You can call me Loomy. I'm lightweight, adaptable and fairly fast." The Wabbit looked at him. "Shall I tidy you?" "No, no! I'm one of a kind," said Loomy, "No USB connection for me." The Wabbit regarded him benignly. "Any chance of a liquid refreshment around here?" Loomy twisted into a wavy line that looked like a smile. "Prosecco miniatures in the bottom drawer. My private stock."

2. The Wabbit and the Minute Hand

The Wabbit was bemused. He might have been shocked but he was seldom shocked or astonished. He was on the minute hand of a clock and shuddering each time it moved. "Perplexed," he said to himself. As he went round the perspective changed and things became upside down, then the right way up. He noticed a temperature gauge. "It's not 25'C degrees or anything like," he murmured." "In fact, this isn't even the correct time. It's about 7 minutes fast." He hummed a tune. "And you run, and you run, to catch up with the sun, but it's racing around, to come up behind you again." His head reached six. He felt a little dizzy, but he was soon on his way to twelve. "How did I get here?" he asked himself. "Time to ask yourself," answered a voice. "The trouble with you is that you never stop long enough to ask yourself why." The minute hand stopped suddenly with such force that the Wabbit nearly fell off. He hopped towards the centre. "Careful," said the voice," you'll upset my movement." The Wabbit knew a thing or two about clocks. "You're not moving so fast here in the centre." They paused for thought. "Did you know," said the voice, "that young people aren't being taught to read this kind of clock? Or rather, they can't." Now the Wabbit was astonished. He could read any clock: Atomic clocks, quartz clocks, cuckoo clocks, steam clocks, sundials. The list was almost endless. "We may be living on borrowed time," he quipped.

The Wabbit and Lapinette's New Year!

The Wabbit, Lapinette and the team wish ye a Guid New Year! Joy, Happiness and No War. 

"A guid new year to ane an a An mony may ye see, An during a the years to come, O happy may ye be. An may ye ne'er hae cause to mourn, To sigh or shed a tear; To ane an a baith great an sma A hearty guid New year. 

A guid new year to ane an a An mony may ye see, An during a the years to come, O happy may ye be.

Noo let us hope our years may be As guid as they hae been, And trust we ne'er again may see, The sorrows we hae seen. And let us wish that ane an a Our friends baith far an near, May aye enjoy in times to come - 

A hearty guid New year"

1. The Wabbit and Witches of Benevento

The Wabbit padded along the streets of Benevento. He was on the hunt for witches but could find no trace other than a souvenir shop selling liquor. This was disappointing, because he was planning to recruit a few witches for a Hallowe'en parade in Dumfries. He shrugged his shoulders and cast around for something else. That was when he noticed a mirror-like statue that appeared to serve no useful purpose other than to be there. He wasn't a great fan of street installations. He looked around again. It didn't appear to reflect anything he could see. "Maybe that's the point," he sulked. The Wabbit was being disingenuous. He knew perfectly well that this was the work of Helidon Xhixha, an Albanian artist of increasing repute. On the other paw, he was critical. "What's the point of a mirror if it doesn't reflect what's in front of it?" He continued his hop. There were other installations, more fluid and phantasmagorical than the rest. It was then he had one of his radical ideas. "What if," he mused, "people became trapped in mirror installations and became part of the urban landscape?" He thought he would run the idea past Lapinette, although he knew what she might say. "Wabbit, this sounds like one of your bright ideas that run amuck." He asked himself what could possibly go wrong? He decided to return to the souvenir witch shop to sample one of its delicious and dangerous alcoholic concoctions - and have a think ...

The Wabbit, Lapinette & the Zampognari

The Wabbit could hear the sound of pipes. Not quite the same as Highland Bagpipes, but not far off. Lapinette was thrilled. "It's Zampognari! There they are!" Her feet began to tap out a rhythm. She flung her paws in the air. Soon she was whirling around. The Wabbit smiled. He reached out a paw and grabbed her. Before long they were both dancing on the cobbled streets. Up and down they went as the Zampognari looked on, smiling. At least the one who wasn't playing smiled. The other was much too busy filling his bag with breath. The Wabbit threw Lapinette in the air, caught her and whirled her around. People gathered from near and far to watch. "Joy and Love!" yelled Lapinette. "Love and Joy!" shouted the Wabbit. Contributions to charity arrived thick and fast. They exchanged places and danced like dervishes. "What do we want?" shouted Lapinette. She pirouetted. "An end to war and stupidity and ignorance," yelled the Wabbit. They nearly flew; their dancing was so lively. Finally, they came to a halt. "I'd like to wish all our readers the best of Christmas wishes," said the Wabbit. "I'll second that." Lapinette was quite out of breath but managed to make a statement. "We have to empower freedom for all!" The Wabbit nodded. "Challenge injustice wherever it is and reform the world. Our preferential option, like that of God, is for the marginalised, the refugees and the poor wherever they are." They bowed. Then to much cheering, they passed round vino cotto. 

The Wabbit's famous Adventure Caffè

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.