It was sometime after the Brine river incident and a day past the flim flammery of his masked exploits that Percival Hare found himself at his burrow desk, household papers and business needing his attention. Instead he found his way out his door and with pipe in mouth and mask on he envisioned a flight high above the clouds. In his reverie he imagined himself on Uncle Pilotus’ preternaturally touched unicycle. Flying through the air lazily with no apparent reason other than avoiding work. The unicycle was gloriously fettered with colorful streamers. Lost in his woolgathering he took no notice of the lean and tattered figure of an apple peddler coming through his garden gate… parcels in hand.