"What is it with pet stores? I swear, don't any of them ever stay in business?" she asked as she began dialing another pet store (either the seventh or thirty-seventh she'd tried).

We all shrugged: Jess, Jeff, and I. Not a clue was to be had amongst the three of us. This question was so far out of our area of expertise that it wasn't even worth opening our mouths. Meanwhile, Sarah dialed yet another number. This time, she'd found a still-existing pet store with an employee that was available to speak with her."Hi. I was wondering if you have dwarf bunnies?"

(This was the point where the freely-flowing sands of time slowed down into the cold-molasses drip of time. Judging by the look of sheer and utter horror on Sarah's face, whatever she was hearing could not possibly have been good news.)

"Well, do you suppose if I don't throw them up against the wall, they'd be okay?"

Sarah buried her head in her hands. Meanwhile, we three were looking at each other and mouthing varied and interesting phrases that all boiled down to: "What the hell?"

"Right. Thanks." Sarah hung up the phone. She stared at us. We stared at her. We knew an explanation was forthcoming. Even under the most boring of circumstances, Sarah is an excellent storyteller, but this phone call had all the earmarks of being a less-than-boring story.

"You're not going to believe this. They don't carry them. Want to know why? Get this—apparently dwarf bunnies are really really inbred, and apparently they've got heart problems as a result. Apparently this pet store had lots of trouble with kids buying the bunnies, taking them home, throwing them against the wall, and then returning the dead bunnies for refunds.

"All I wanted to know," she wailed, "was whether or not they had dwarf bunnies! It was a 'yes' or 'no' question! I didn't need to know all this! All they had to say was 'no'!"

Jessica, the ever-practical older sister: "So I guess this means that if you find a dwarf bunny, we're not allowed to throw it against the wall to see if its little heart explodes?"

"Noooooooooooo!"

Fast-forward a day. Sarah walked in, beaming maternally and clutching the dwarf bunny she had wanted for years. "Meet Buffy. Isn't she just the most adorable thing you've ever seen?"

(It was. It weighed maybe a pound, and most of it was fur.) Collectively, from the room: "Awwwwwww!"

Then someone—I forget who—said, laughing, "Hey, can we throw the bunny against the wall to see what happens?"

Sarah howled in protest, then giggled along with the rest of us. The bunny cowered in fear and terror.

Smart bunny.