"Jane! Jane! How do you stop this crazy thing?"

"Neener Neener," said the hyperlux communicator. "Officer Neener, do you collate?"

"Collating," said Neener, trusting his ship's A.S.S. to pick up and reply to his Section Commander.

"We've got a couple of juvenile bogtasses joyjumping in your Section, Neener. Last position showed they might be headed toward Dirt."

"Fudgebucket! That's an interdict planet. I just ran a couple of Greeb U postdox out of there last cyclo."

"We collate," said the S.C. "The place is an attractive nuisance ever since they invented that infernal music of theirs."

"It's not that bad," said Neener. "It's got a thrub and you can prom to it."

"Take the last half of your shift to jump over there and send them home. They've georged the safety protocols and corrupted their A.S.S. to Celadon. You may have to upstate your A.S.S. and do a synthetic override."

"Collate that," said Neener. "I'll george their A.S.S., you can be sure of it."

"Collating, under, over, around and out."

Neener took one last kick of some of the finest blue stuff he had ever confiscated and hid the rest of the contraband under his carapace. "Fudging bogtasses, georging up my Section. I'll pandiculate their membranous integument until they wish they were still buds on their pseudo-parental elasmobranchii!" Then he directed his A.S.S. to set course for Planet Dirt.

# # #

"I've got to go somewhere I can look at these comics! They're the manuals for how my powers work!" Vicki could hardly restrain herself. "EEEEEEEEEEEE!" she squealed. "This is so fricken cool!"

"I...." She stopped gathering things back into the backpack and stared at the F&F Depot across the street. Two men had just run out of the storefront and one of them was holding what looked like a gun. Vicki squinted and zoomed her vision in.

Yup, it was a gun. The two guys were looking around frantically and she clearly heard one of them say, "I heard a siren but I don't see no cops anywhere!"

"Oh my God!" Vicki whispered. "It's a hold-up!"

She dropped the backpack and started to move in that direction then skidded to a halt. "Am I bulletproof?" she asked aloud. "I better find out first!" Retrieving the bag, she fished out the Star Bunny comic book, after checking to see if she still had rabbit ears.

Quickly she flipped through the colorful pages, "I can leap an eighth of a mile? How cool is that!" On page five she found the relevant picture. With her arms at her side, elbows bent, the comic book Star Bunny created a bulletproof aura around herself by turning both fists away from her body. She maintained the shield by keeping her left fist clenched while doing other stuff, like punching out the bad guys.

"Oh-muh-gawd, oh-muh-gawd," she said, over and over, trying to scan the whole comic at once. A sudden engine sound caused her to look up. The two guys who ran out of the F&F Depot were getting into a beat-up old Mitsubishi that was already moving! "No time!" she squeaked. Putting the comic back in the bag and the bag into the backpack, she tossed the whole thing under a bush.

"Here I come to save the day!" she sang as she leaped toward the accelerating car.

The first jump was an impressive ten or twelve feet, from a standing start. Automatically, she landed both feet together and jumped again, landing almost in the middle of the street, about a hundred feet from where she started and two or three car lengths behind the getaway vehicle.

Then her vision got obscured by the bounce of her over-sized boobies up into her face. Startled, she jumped again but more up than out and landed, butt first on the roof of the F&F. "Ow!" she said as she tumbled cabbage-over-cantelopes toward the edge of the roof. Then, "Oof!" when she failed to stop herself from falling from the top of the building into the dumpster behind the F&F.

The dumpster made a sound like an eight-foot long Turkish gong full of garbage when Star Bunny launched herself out of the depths. Luckily, most of the trash was boxes and wrappers with only a few moldy old sandwiches and ice cream mix containers with sticky vanilla-flavored remnants clinging to them.

"Yikes!" Vicki exclaimed looking down at the city from about two hundred feet. "Can I fly?" she whimpered. She fell, squealing "No-ooo-000-OOO!" all the way down to a perfect two point landing in the parking lot of the Burger Bonanza. Unable to stop herself, she bounced again, closer to four hundred feet this time, higher than any building within miles.

"I can see the whole world!" she screamed, exhilarated. It seemed to take a long while for her to start falling. Swallowing hard, she used her hands to keep her boobies from being pushed into her face by air resistance. "Where's the robbers car?" she asked aloud, trying to look around for a battered old Mitsubishi and realizing that she might not be able to recognize it from so high in the air.

Her ears were moving! She could feel them up there swiveling this way and that. Suddenly she heard the same voice she had heard before, the one of the robber who had thought he heard a siren. "How much did we get?"

"I'm counting!" Another voice said. "Looks like fifty-eight bucks, a twelve pack of Keystone Light and six Slim Jims."

A third voice said, "You're shitting me!"

Vicki turned her head to line up with where her ears were pointing. She spotted the car and realized that by angling her arms and legs she could direct where she would land. She aimed for the car but had to take another jump for her to get close. This time she topped out at a little less than 900 feet. It didn't occur to her to wonder how she knew how high she was, but she chortled, "I really can jump an eighth of a mile, straight up!"

Down she came.

Inside the fleeing car, the robbers were still grousing about getting so little loot for their trouble. "Hog piss!" screamed the driver. "Keystone tastes like hog piss!"

"This is, uh, Keystone Light," said the first voice.

"Then it's going to taste like GAY hogpiss!"

About that time, Vicki realized that if she hit the car dead center going at the speed of a body falling from an eighth of mile (she estimated that to be about 120 mph) she would kill all the occupants. At the last possible second, she changed her aim for the front of the hood.

Star Bunny, protected by her automatic force field and slowed to only about 80 mph, slammed through the hood and drove the radiator, grill and front bumper straight into the pavement. The car, with the front end buried in the asphalt flipped end for end twice before landing right side up, minus the front wheels, engine, hood and in fact, everything in front of the windshield.

The twelve pack of beer bouncing around inside the car knocked all the robbers out and even though the beer cans did not rupture there was the distinct smell of urine--and excrement--in the vehicle when the cops arrived.

It took Vicki a dozen or more automatic jumps before she figured out that in order to stop jumping, she had to not land on both feet.

# # #

"That went well," said Gooma.

"Are you fudding? Those three Earthers in the ground vehicle almost bought a comet!" said Twirt.

"Yeah, but they didn't because Star Bunny made the right decision."

They occulated each other for a moment. "That's a pretty smart wogstaffer," Twirt admitted.

"Driz me!" said Gooma, extending a set of pseudopalps to exchange thirteens.

"SUBJECT OF EMERGENCY RECONSTRUCTION HAS EXHAUSTED MANY INTERNAL SUPPLIES AND CONSUMABLES. SENDING CODES TO END ACTIVE PHASE AND ENTER ESTIVATION AND RECUPERATION."

"Uh?" said Twirt.

"It means watching Star Bunny bounce around is over for this octicyclo," said Gooma.

"THAT UNIT NEEDS TO INGENERATE THE FUEL STORAGE CONES."

"Well, we can always listen to Yankovic again," said Twirt.

"Thrub me, bogtass, six to the bunch," agreed Gooma.

# # #

A mile and a half of nearly random jumping did not put Vicki out of town but did land her in a redeveloped light industrial park near the rail yard. She came down on one foot and one knee and this somehow stopped her jump cycle. "Oh. My. God." She said in true reverence. "That was so awesome!"

She knelt there for a moment, just getting control of her breathing. "I wonder if those guys are all right?" she asked out loud. "I hope I didn't hurt them too badly."

She felt her ears moving. "Six-X-Ray-Seven-Seven," she heard a voice say. "Sending three ambulances and two tow trucks, that's affirmative." She listened a while longer to determine that yes, all three passengers in the destroyed Mitsubishi had only minor injuries, mild concussions and a twisted neck.

"Whew!" she sighed. And then yawned. "Ohmuhgawd, I'm so-oo tired!"

She stood and looked around her. Row after row of warehouses and small shops of various sorts. Not the kind of shops that sold shoes but the kind that made stuff, like furniture or tools or whatever. She yawned again. When she blinked, the view cycled through several false representations of what the scene would look like to someone who could see infrared, ultraviolet or centimeter band waves.

"So tired," she repeated. She couldn't seem to keep focus on anything other than finding somewhere to rest. "Imma tired widdle Space Bunny," she said, giggling. Between two warehouses, she found a spot surrounded by piles of wooden transport pallets but not visible from the doors or windows of the surrounding buildings.

She settled down against a wall. "Feeling good," she murmured. "Just so tired." Before she fell asleep, one more thing occurred to her. "Did my boobies shrink?" she thought. She tried to look down to check but couldn't keep her eyes open.

# # #

"WANK! WANK! WANK!" said the A.S.S.

"What the george is that noise supposed to mean?" Twirt yelped.

"THAT'S THE SOUND I MAKE WHEN I'VE BEEN COLLATED BY AN OFFICER OF THE STELLAR CONSTABULARY."

"Shiiztok! The cops!" said Gooma.