“I’ll travel back in time,” declares the rabbit, “and steal Cain’s cereal.”
The rabbit is briefly lost in bliss. “I’m sure that even back in Biblical times,” he says, “the grain that Cain intended as a sacrifice for God was deliciously fruity!”
Quickly, the rabbit dons his disguise. He dresses as Abel. He buys a rack of lamb from the supermarket. He boils it in sheep’s milk, because only things boiled in sheep’s milk can use the temporal fibrillator. Then he travels back in time!
On the sacrifice rock, he finds the cereal of Cain’s sacrifice. The rabbit seizes it and sets the lamb down in its place.
“At last!” he cries.
But there is Cain, coming through the fields, and there is a sharp stone in his hands.
“Cain,” cries the rabbit. “Do you not recognize me? It is I, your brother Abel!”
“I have no brother,” says Cain, his puzzlement genuine.
The rabbit frantically makes his disguise more convincing. “Don’t you remember me?” he asks. “Your younger brother, a keeper of sheep? Born in sorrow from our mother’s womb?”
For a moment, Cain almost looks convinced. “It seems plausible that she could have more than one child,” he admits. “And I have extremely poor long-term memory.”
One of the rabbit’s ears pops out.
Cain’s eyes narrow. “Yet,” he says, “that cereal was meant for God alone.”
The rabbit tries to tuck his ear back under his wig, but only frees the other.
“Silly rabbit,” Cain says, in a voice of blood.