“Where’s the rabbit?”
“What rabbit?”
“The dinner rabbit, the one I got from the butchers this morning. That rabbit.”
“Is it white?”
“It’s on the floor over there… but I thought you said it was for dinner.”
“It is.”
“Then why’s it moving?”
“It’s moving. Look. Well…. twitching really.”
“That’s sick. They sold us a live rabbit. Well you’re going to have to kill it.”
“What? I’m not killing it and we’ve got people due in a few hours and the damm thing needs skinning too.”
“It’s just… arrgh.”
“What? What?
“It flipped over, it’s dragging itself towards me. I think only it’s… only it’s front legs are moving.”
“Well kill it! Here, use this.”
“I… look at it’s eyes.”
“Eww they’re glowing.”
“Yeah… I don’t think we can kill it.”
“What do you mean.”
“I think it’s already dead.”
“Oh….. crap.”

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