The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse by Robert Rankin

viewers have all had a few drinks.
    'What a complete gormster,' said Wibbly. 'Looks like he's been taking a swim in that dry-clean-only trenchcoat. Why did you bring him here, Eddie?'
    Jack looked on in morbid fascination as the exposed teeth rose and fell and half a tongue waggled between them. How could this thing speak? How could it move? It was all but hollow. Jack shook his head. There was some big secret here, in this strange city. Some
big
secret.
    Mr Anders, the kindly, loveable white-haired old toy-maker, had to be the brains behind it all. He had to be the one who held the Big Secret. Jack wondered whether Mr Anders might be looking for an apprentice. Working for him and learning the Big Secret would be infinitely preferable to knocking about in dark cellars, conversing with fractured wobbly men and having to impersonate a dullard.
    Infinitely preferable!
    'He's Bill's cousin,' said Eddie, smiling towards Jack. 'I'm looking after him while Bill's on his holidays.'
    'Holidays?' said Wibbly, revolving on his axis, which afforded Jack a view of his all-but-hollow head. 'The word on the street is—'
    'I don't care what the word on the street is.' Eddie tried to fold his arms, but, as ever, failed. 'Bill will be back. But until he is, I'm dealing with his case. Andjack here is helping me.'
    'Just what this city needs, another Jack.' Wibbly wobbled (but he didn't fall down).
    'What of this?' asked Jack.
    'The city does suffer from a surfeit of Jacks,' Eddie explained. 'There's a Jack B. Nimble, and Jack of Jack and Jill, and Jack Spratt.'
    'And Little Jack Horner,' said Wibbly.
    'And Bigjack Black,' said Eddie.
    'Who's Bigjack Black?' asked Jack.
    'Another Preadplescent Poetic Personality.' Eddie sat down on Wibbly's floor.
    'Well, I've never heard of him.'
    'Of course you haven't. Because he never got famous. He's one of the sorry few meatheads whose nursery rhymes never caught on.'
    Jack did sniffings. 'So why did Big Jack Black's rhyme never catch on?' he asked.
    Wibbly chuckled loudly. The sound echoed up from his hollow belly and, had there been windows, would surely have rattled them. 'Recite it, Eddie,' he said to the bear. 'You can remember it, can't you?'
    'I think so,' said Eddie. 'It goes like this:
    'Bigjack Black
    'Lived in a sack,
    'Lived in a sack did he.
    'He dined upon cripples,
    'And little boys' nipples,
    'Served upon toast for his tea.'
    ‘’Nuff said, I think,' said Wibbly.
    Jack shook his head once more and his stomach grumbled loudly.
    'Nice grumbling.' Wibbly offered Jack Haifa smile, for it was all he possessed. 'Your belly's as empty as my own. I generally have a bucket or two of lead shot at this time of day. Perhaps you'd care to join me?'
    'I don't think that would agree with my digestion,'-said Jack.
    'He's fussy. For a loon,' said Wibbly.
    'Don't wind the lad up, Wibbly,' said Eddie. 'Give him some bread and milk or something.'
    'Anything edible will do,' said Jack.
     
    Wibbly had some bread, which was not altogether hard, if you left the crusts. And some milk that wasn't altogether evil-smelling, if you didn't smell it too closely. And even some cradberry jam that wasn't altogether unspeakable, if you didn't speak about it and took the trouble to scrape the fur off the top.
    Jack, who had now reached the point where he was prepared to eat almost anything, ate almost everything. With relish.
    But without relish, as there wasn't any relish.
    Eddie ate what was left of the jam. Including the furry bits. 'I don't know what it is about jam,' he said, wiping a paw over his now jammy face. 'I can't stand honey, but I do love jam.'
    'Nonconformist,' said Wibbly, ladling lead shot in through the hole in his head. 'So what have you really come for, Eddie? It wasn't just for a free lunch.'
    'Well, it
was.'
Eddie had his paw now stuck in the jam pot. 'But it was also for a bit of information and a small favour or two.'
    'That's what friends are for,' said Wibbly.
    Eddie smiled. And struggled.
    'To