A Short Story Which Goes As Following:

I once found a yellow rabbit in a jar of blue-berry jam.

He was dressed in a most unusual fashion, even for a rabbit, with his little red coat and trousers. You can imagine, I am sure, how the finding of a rabbit in ones jam affects a person and so it is rather needless of me to say that I sat there dumbfounded as he cleaned the sticky blue off his little face. Of course he seemed not to be surprised in the least to see me. He turned abruptly to dig out of the jar a top hat nearly as large as the jar itself. And as he fixed a set of tiny spectacles on his round nose, he looked me over with a satisfied smile.

"How do you do? Alexander Pirie Audrey Fritz Rose-Luther Tipcarnina at your service!" he shouted at me and gave a little bow, removing the top hat from his blue-plastered head.

Now this is the point where I begin to wonder if perhaps there was more in my morning coffee than I had suspected. But no number of times rubbing my eyes would cause the oddity to disappear. By the time he had finished off my toast and was warming his feet by dipping them in my coffee mug, I was beginning to fear for my sanity. However, he seemed perfectly at home.

"What… are you?" I finally managed to stammer out after a moments staring match with the little rabbit.

"I'm quite sure you are not blind," he said blinking at me. "What does it look like I am?!" He seemed highly offended at the thought he did not look at all like what he was and folded his arms in such a cross manner, I leaned back in my chair.

"Well, I suppose you're a rabbit…" I said still staring at him with wide eyes.

He settled himself into my coffee mug as if it were a small hot tub meant exactly for that purpose. I thought of protesting this, but it probably would have been to no avail.

"But that isn't what I meant… I meant what are you aside from a rabbit? And why were you in my jam?"

As I spoke the words it struck me how funny they sounded and I really wondered if my sister would not come from the other room to find me talking to my coffee.

The rabbit made a disgusted face, readjusting his spectacles.

"Who what when's and where's," he waved his tiny forepaw, "All trivial concerns, yes yes, trivial!"

To this very day, do you know, I still haven't the faintest clue how he got in that jar? I simply take it as it is now. However, it was quite another matter at the time.

Now I had set down on my only day off that week expecting a nice quiet breakfast to start a nice quiet day. What I get is a little yellow rabbit adorned in a little red suite lounging in my coffee after jumping out of a jar of blue-berry jam. The shock was beginning to wear off and annoyance was quickly taking it's place.

"Now see here!" I leaned closer to the table so that I was not far from the mug. "That's my coffee you're so casually sitting in! Not to mention a brand new jar of jam you've gotten your fur all in! I do believe you owe me a bit of an explanation."

Oh how taken aback he looked! I nearly laughed, but that would have been completely rude, even though he was only a rabbit.

"Well then!" he pulled himself out of my coffee. "I'll have you know I most certainly did not mean to end up in that old jar of yours."

Such a snob he was. Look at the way he turned on his heel and marched across the table with his small nose stuck in the air. He marched straight to the edge, turning white under his bright fur as he looked down at the tiled floor. But not to be outdone he held his hat tightly in both paws and leapt over the side.

I quickly looked under the table to watch him march to where my old tom cat, Bailey, who was sleeping quite peacefully on the mat in front of the door. But the sight of another animal, one that could have eaten him and his top hat in one bite, didn't discourage him in the least. He took hold of Baileys' tail and pulled with all his tiny might. Bailey was just as confused as I Had been at the first sight of the little rabbit. Even more so that it had hold of his tail and was straining every muscle in it's small body to move him.

But of course, his cat instincts kicked in. To him the rabbit in the read coat was a toy that didn't require a human to move it around. Which meant he was up and ready to chase the poor thing wherever it dared run.

Putting yourself in the rabbits place, wouldn't you have done just that? Run I mean. For run he did, as fast as his legs would take him. He ran a lap around my kitchen, clutching onto his oversized top hat for all he was worth, with Bailey close behind him.

The Tom cat, satisfied with chasing the small thing as far as he had, returned to his nap. While the rabbit, to terrified to look behind and see that the giant fur ball of orange-ness was no longer bounding after him, ran in a beeline for the edge of my skirt.

"Oh my…oh dear…I have no wish to be eaten!" he clung pathetically to the fold of my skirt, his specials askew.

It was difficult to contain my laughter, yet somehow I managed it as a picked him up by the back of his little red coat, holding it between my forefinger and thumb. I held him up in front of me and looked at his odd little face. He was trembling horribly, his hat wobbling back and forth.

He opened one eye and looked around cautiously before going limp in my hand.

He'd fainted. Or so I'd thought anyway.

I laid him in the palm of my other hand and stood up, planning to go in search of some kind of box to put the creature in and the next thing I knew I was laying on my own table.

After giving it a great deal of thought, I believe I should have never touched him at all. For now there was a man about the size that I had been a moment before, sitting at my table and sipping my coffee. A man with oddly yellow hair, specials, and oversized top hat.

Panic was slow in coming to me as I looked down at my hands that had changed into an odd colour of red and were now covered with fur. But panic did come as soon as that ugly man gave me a large grin showing all his rotted yellow teeth.

I tried to run. Escape off of the table, but I wasn't used to this body yet and so I found myself being wrapped into a white cloth that smelled as if it had been dug out of the dirty laundry three months ago.

Disorienting as it is to be suddenly turned into a tiny rabbit, it is even more so to be tucked into someone's vest pocket and be carried about. Although I must say, I should have much rather stayed in the nasty man's pocket than find myself being dumped into a canning jar. Or have that canning jar suddenly filled with raspberry jam.

Now you can see through raspberry jam about as much as you can see through your own hand. I know that after much moving about, my little jar has been sitting on a cold shelf surrounded by painfully bright lights for what seems like months now.

So if I may so bold as to ask you a favor; should you happen to see a small jar of raspberry jam with a peeling label, would you be so kind as to take it home for toast at your next breakfast?