Rabbit

What do you get if you cross a rabbit with a stone? No, I don't know either.

Every time I go past hot-cross buns in the supermarket – or collect them off the shelf for teatime, because I do like them – I find myself grinning in most un-Good Friday fashion at that oldest of children's 'chestnuts': 'What do you get when you pour boiling water down a rabbit's burrow?' Answer: 'Hot cross bunnies....' Poor Easter rabbit!

A man was driving along the highway and saw a rabbit hopping across the middle of the road. He swerved to avoid hitting the rabbit, but unfortunately the rabbit jumped in front of the car and was hit. The driver, being a sensitive man as well as an animal lover, pulled over tothe side of the road and got out to see what had become of the rabbit. Much to his dismay, the rabbit was dead. The driver felt so awful that he began to
cry.
A blonde woman driving down the highway saw the man crying on the side of the road and pulled over. She stepped out of her car and asked the man what was wrong.
»I feel terrible,« he explained, »I accidentally hit this rabbit and killed it.«
The blonde told the man not to worry. She knew what to do. She went to her car trunk and pulled out a spray can. She walked over to the limp, dead rabbit, and sprayed the contents of the can onto the rabbit.
Miraculously, the rabbit came to life, jumped up, waved its paw at the two humans and hopped down the road. Fifty feet away the rabbit stopped, turned around, waved at the two again, hopped down the road another 50 feet, turned, waved, and hopped another 50 feet. The man was astonished. He couldn't figure out what substance could be in the woman's spray can! He ran over to the woman and demanded, »What was in your spray can? What did you spray onto that rabbit?«
The woman turned the can around so that the man could read the label. It said: »Hair Spray – Restores Life to Dead Hair. Adds Permanent Wave...«

In the French West Indies, it is suggested that one not buy rabbit (lapin) in a supermarket unless the package also contains the head.

Otherwise it might be cat (chat).

Also suggested is a creamy Dijonnaise sauce and a nice chardonnay.

When I was about 12 or 13 years old, I went through a phase of not liking to eat chicken, so my grandmother made some fried rabbit, which I ate and enjoyed. Imagine my surprise and embarrassment when she revealed that it wasn't rabbit at all, but chicken (since she had cut it up herself, the pieces weren't readily identifiable).