And so it started. Bob aimed, realized that he was not usually this dizzy, because he didn’t usually drink so much wine from the officers’ quarters before battle, and therefore failed to not miss but also miss at the same time. This had 3 effects: 1. Bob and Syntax’s plan had failed straight from the start, so J2C was eventually eaten. 2. Bob had to spend a lot of time building up his shattered reputation. He should be finished at about Christmas 2001. 3. The bullets that didn’t hit the rabbit, which were an awful lot, sent 16 unfortunate oxygen molecules deep into outer space, where they, thanks to the mysterious effects of solar wind, travelled to another planet with extremely low oxygen levels, allowed a dying plant to respire aerobically, recover and able to photosynthesise, create more oxygen and, ultimately, provide oxygen for all kinds of life forms that would breed, evolve and populate the whole planet.
The bullets that struck the giant white rabbit made it pretty angry, and Bob’s superiors (in rank, that is) very white in the face. That’s it, Shadow thought. Better call my under-under-secretary and tell her to start hiring more staff. That’s it, thought Syntax. Let’s go kick some butt.
A lot of butts were kicked that day. Syntax ran up to the giant white rabbit, which had fallen over because of pure surprise and not because it was severely crippled, and as he ran, he had a finger cramp.
‘Aaaaaargh! Ouch, ouch, ouch!’ screamed Syntax, but nobody could hear him because of all the bullets he was putting into the white rabbit. Unfortunately for Syntax, giant organisms tend to have above-average thick skin, so the bullets kept bouncing off, doing only moderate harm to the white rabbit.
That’s it, thought the white rabbit testily, and ate Syntax. It then moved on to Bob. How Bob and Syntax got through alive out of this mess, no one knows, but recent scientific studies claim that they ‘did it with difficulty’.
The white rabbit, relieved that his first two assailants were safely eaten, moved on to disintegrate a couple of tanks, smash a couple of helicopters, eat the infantry whilst routing the rag-tag remains of the army. It then saw J2C, the source of all its troubles.
‘Mmmm….Jazz2City. I could do with a bite.’ This was bad news for DethMan, because the white rabbit was feeling particularly hungry that morning.

Chapter 4

‘This isn’t remotely fun anymore!’ cried Stuart. ‘In fact, I estimate that we are currently 5 light-years away from Planet Fun’ continued Stuart.
In the distance he could see a big, green sign with ‘Level 16’ written with big, red letters. Directly in front of him, he could see a mass of menacing, grey tiles. He was starting to dislike the smell of the place; the sweat; blood; tears and decomposing bodies of those who had failed the level 15 too much and died of grief. Every time Stuart made a sprint for the narrow opening of grey tiles, wind rushed past his face, briefly blowing away all of the pungent stenches of the level. It didn’t help him to complete the level, though. Unigma, despite his inability to use copter ears, run and jump, was waiting in the winner’s area (beyond level 16).
Unigma could just about give a reply. ‘The trick is to NOT hold down shift when you’re at the last diagonal bottom tile!’ he shouted. Stuart flashed him a ‘you’re paying for the entrance fees’ look. Stuart was not in the mood for these “hints” and could only think of writing a book named ’999 ways to kill Black Ninja slowly’. Unigma respectfully disagreed when Stuart told him about his idea, but that only made Stuart slightly redder in the face.
Stuart’s molecules had been broken down, re-arranged, broken down again and re-arranged again. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and typed ‘jjfly’ followed by ‘jjnowall’ in his mind. The Wind Meister park attendants had made sure that cheating would not be possible, so the moment Stuart got his airboard, he got kicked out of the park. Unigma took his prize, a 6-metre long scale model of a sperm cell, and followed Stuart while humming a cheerful modem-tune.
‘No detours anymore,’ snapped Stuart, before Unigma could suggest a detour to Wind Meister 3 Park some 50 metres to the east.

The pair, safely out of the ugly, urbanized reach of the J2C conurbation, hitched a ride (does this feel familiar to anyone?) to Jazz2Online. On their way across the beautiful, green and carrot-farm dotted Carrotus landscape, they encountered a turnip-farm, which was rather unusual, a live turtle, which got shot by Stuart, and two very slimy, very obnoxious and smelly rabbits. They each had the ‘Medal of Get-outta-this-community-ASAP’ on their chests. The smell and unsightly presence of these two ex-J2C citizens helped to speed up Stuart and Unigma’s journey to J2o by at least 4 days.

The car stopped at Arjan’s Alco-Mobile for some alcohol. Stuart and Unigma were told that the driver was heading off to some place called Lori Central. Apparently, the women there were nice. A sleek, modern and brand-new sign gleamed at Unigma for attention. It read: J2o – South - 5 kilometres.
Stuart was gently tapped on the shoulder. How, he didn’t know because modems don’t have fingers.
‘We can walk to J2o now. And, considering how many of Arjan’s Hifat-Burgerbars you’ve eaten, you need the exercise anyway.
‘Well? Why not,’ said Stuart. ‘The sun is shining, birds are chirping…hey is that a hip-hop bird…oh, never mind, and the fresh fragrance of the burnt turtle is still in the air. Let’s go!’
Stuart finished his Arjan’s Lo-yield Ammonia muffin, picked up Unigma and headed south. Before long, however, he found another brand-new, modern, gleaming sign, which read: J2o spaceport – West – 1 kilometre. Stuart’s head wrinkled again.
‘I’d really like to go to J2o as fast as is rabbitly possible, but that spaceport is more than interesting… I have to see it!’ Stuart looked expectantly at Unigma.
‘Well, ok, but while we’re there, steal me two Arjan’s Supah-capacity modem-cables and one of those new Arjan’s Blind-o-shine metal cases.’
‘Deal.’