Although Wortel had told Dorothy he was going to leave the office, his discussion with Chief Superintendent Archibald had overrun and he found, as usual, he was in the office later than he had planned. And so it was the thought of a nice long hot bath, a strong cup of coffee and a hug from his wife and children that kept Wortel going through the last few hours at work. This picturesque image lasted right up until Wortel was leaving the office, when he received a call from an extremely stressed Stella telling him to stop at the supermarket to pick up more breakfast cereal, crisps, peanuts and bottled water because they had run out and the little ’un was screaming the house down. Wortel was also told to be on his best behaviour as Janie had invited her friend from college over for dinner.
Warren, he thought Stella said. Seriously. Who calls their son Warren nowadays? What was he, a rabbit? That thought tickled an easily amused Wortel as he trudged around the supermarket, dodging the flying elbows as the late night shoppers began their battle for the last remaining items on the shelves. Having survived the scrum taking place around the crisps and peanuts with just some minor bruising, Wortel left the supermarket vowing never to answer the phone from Stella again. Still, he was on his way home now and meeting Warren couldn’t be half as bad as the in-store fighting he’d witnessed over bottled water.
As Wortel arrived home he was somewhat put out to find a rickshaw parked up his drive. His drive. A rickshaw. Must be Warren. Now while he was not going to judge him, this did not bode well. The jumped up little bleeder. Not that Wortel was judging him of course.
It was the silence which struck Wortel the most as opened the front door. Not total silence, as there was a gentle chatter coming from the living room, but it certainly hadn’t been this quiet in the house in years. Well, not since the kids were born really. Hearing Wortel let himself in, Stella made her excuses and poked her head around the living room door.
“Hello dear,” she called, somewhat artificially. “Did you have a good day? Yes. Good. Come in and meet Warren.”
Stella was pointing towards the living room in a far from discreet manner. Wortel looked at her, puzzled by her behaviour and even more so by her wide eyed appearance. He gave her a peck on the cheek, raised his eyebrows at her quizzically and walked into his living room. And there sat Warren. A rabbit. A great big lump of a rabbit. Wearing a powder puff blue suit. With a pocket watch. And he had a top hat. It suddenly didn’t seem so funny.
“Hi Dad,” called Janie “This is Warren.”
“So I gather,” said Wortel. “Er, nice to meet you, I guess.”
“And you too sir,” said Warren, leaping from his seat and thrusting a paw towards Wortel, who jumped back slightly alarmed, which to be fair, tends to be the standard reaction when a rabbit steps towards a carrot with its arm outstretched.
Stella relieved Wortel of the shopping bags which were in danger of releasing the shopping everywhere, allowing him to shake Warren’s paw. “I’ll put these away dear; you get to know Warren a little more,” she said, putting a hand into the small of his back pushing him forwards. Wortel shot his wife a look as she hurried from view towards the sanctuary of the kitchen.
The evening seemed to drag on for far longer than Wortel cared to remember over a particularly excruciating dinner during which Warren described, in far more detail than was necessary, how rabbits are not nearly as rampant as they are made out to be. Having forced dinner and pudding down his increasingly bile-filled throat, Wortel let out a sigh of relief as Warren and Janie disappeared upstairs to begin work on their joint study project. “You’ve got to admit it’s odd,” whispered Wortel in his best hushed tones. “He’s a rabbit and she’s a carrot. It’s, well, weird is what it is.”
Stella shrugged and opened a packet of peanuts as they settled down in front of the TV.
“And who wears a powder puff blue suit and a top hat. He’s not a magician is he? I mean what’s he going to do, pull a human from it? And don’t get me started on the rickshaw.”
“He did say he was worried about the environment which was why he didn’t drive a car.”
“Fine, but use a bike not a rickshaw.”
“He makes some pocket money in between his study days by taxiing people about. I think he’s a budding entrepreneur.”
“He’s certainly something,” said Wortel suddenly noticing how quickly Stella was popping the peanuts. “Are you still hungry?”
“Not really, I just feel a little peckish,” said Stella throwing some peanuts in the air, before steadying herself to catch them in her open mouth as gravity took hold and sent them hurtling back towards her.
“After listening to Warren banging on about his not so rampant uncle I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to eat again.”
Stella nodded, while chewing earnestly. “That was a little much I agree,” she said splattering Wortel with a spray of chewed up peanuts.
Feeling like he was under armed attack from the splintered nuts, Wortel decided not to continue the conversation and turned up the volume on the rolling news report.
“The Chancellor today announced that the public finances were in much worse shape than expected with the black hole, now commonly known as an abyss, growing at an increasingly rapid rate. With tax revenues decreasing due to the collection agency not really caring whether large corporations paid their fair share, the Chancellor announced he had no option but to pursue his unpopular decision to introduce a food tax so that we were all in this together. The tax was originally challenged by Union bosses but they rescinded their objections when it became clear that the tax wouldn’t interfere with their own interests. The opposition party, WeKipped, were too laid back to comment, instead preferring to continue discussions as to whether Ned St Noballs was the right leader for the party, not because he had committed fratricide, but because he was at risk of poachers due to his giant front teeth.”
Wortel and Stella looked at each other. “Well that does it Stella; we need to win the lottery.”
“It’s not through a lack of trying my dear.”
“Either that or we’re working ’til we drop.”
“And finally, in more upbeat news, Moxley Park zoo today welcomed a new arrival. Weighing in at over 500lbs and standing upright at almost 7 feet tall, Kikatika, a giant silverback, was unveiled. Arriving from Africa, it is hoped that Kikatika, who is the world’s largest silverback, will start to mate with the zoo’s female gorilla who so far has not produced any offspring. The current silverback, the unfortunately named Barron, will move into another part of the zoo. Moxley Park zoo hope the new attraction will bring a much needed boost to visitor numbers…”
Stella, munching on some more peanuts, let out a large sigh.
“What was that for?” asked Wortel.
“I was thinking about how the zoo is near that new complex Withering Heights. It’s really spoiled the view as you walk through the park.”
“Fatima Jaffy lives in Withering Heights you know.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she’s invited us over to see her when we are in the area.”
Stella pulled a face and Wortel nodded. “Don’t worry, it’s not an invite I intend to take up. Besides, all that we have to talk about would be the Cookie biscuit case.”
“Do you know how the Cookies are, you know, what with the dunking and all?”
“It’s their own fault. It was a self-inflicted wound.”
“Yes, yes, I know it’s the law and all, it just seems a little barbaric.”
“Could be worse.”
“How?”
“If they were tofu they would have been made to cross a busy road in blindfolds to prove they weren’t chicken.”