The Easter Bunny - Part One

Peter walked with a limp and winced with every step. ‘Easter Bunny Lottery,’ he muttered as he set down his basket. ‘Stupid fucking idea.’ He sat down on a convenient log and rubbed his aching, blistered feet, cringing as he applied pressure. It was a few hours before dawn and he still had a long way to go before his work was finished. Sure, the job had its perks; the shiny new waistcoat with gold buttons was nice, but something didn't sit easy with him. The others thought the same way - there was something going on and none of them could work out what it was. Peter gingerly got to his feet and stretched his back before picking up his basket of chocolate eggs. He only made it a few steps before he tripped over a tree root. ‘God-fucking-dammit!’ he yelled to the sky as the eggs spilled out of the basket. ‘Why me?’

A sparkly sound filled the air as if in answer, and a spectacle-wearing tortoise appeared in mid-air. ‘Because you won the lottery,’ it said as it looked over a clipboard.

Peter got to his damaged feet and brushed the dirt from his waistcoat. ‘I know why me, but I don’t get why is has to be me. This is bullshit and you know it, tortoise.’

The tortoise smiled. ‘Tut tut, Peter, you know the rules.’

‘You’re an arsehole,’ growled Peter.

The tortoise cleared his throat. ‘Section III, paragraph seven: “Easter Bunnies shall not engage in profane behaviour or language which may cause distress to minors”.

‘I don’t care. I’m not doing it, you prick. This is bullshit. I refuse to do this anymore. I’m tired, I’m sore and I didn’t sign up for this. I swear, if you tell me to do it one more time I’ll take a shit inside every hollow egg and rewrap them. The kids won’t notice until it’s too late.’

The tortoise’s face turned mean. ‘Do that and you’ll get calicivirus’d.’

Peter’s face fell. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ he said.

The tortoise grinned silently and looked at Peter over the top of his glasses.

Peter was nervous but put on a brave face. His whiskers hardly twitched at all. ‘How did it come to this, tortoise?’

‘You know exactly how, Peter. The previous owner was a terrible gambler, PLUS he was a cheat.’

‘He didn’t cheat! He was shrewd!’

‘No, he cheated. He substituted his runner with a narcoleptic hare at the last minute, and was subsequently disqualified, despite the hare losing anyway. So now we control the Easter Bunny Company and manage it how we see fit. The Selection Lottery model is just the first stage of our company-wide sweeping changes,’ said the tortoise.

‘And the lottery is random, is it?’ said Peter, arms crossed across his chest.

The tortoise scrunched its face. ‘Yes. It’s random, and I don’t appreciate your tone.’

‘It just strikes me as odd that this year’s Easter Bunnies are all well-known individuals.’

The tortoise continued to frown and made a mark on the sheet on his clipboard. ‘Lotteries are random. The results are random. You think that just because well-known rabbits are working together on the one night is a good reason to be suspicious?’

Peter raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t say anything about it being “suspicious”.

‘Thinking something is odd is to think of something as “suspicious”. Do not put words in my mouth,’ said the tortoise.

Peter opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. The tortoise was right about both things; the previous franchise owner was a terrible gambler and a drunk and an idiot, and just because well-known bunnies were on ‘duty’ tonight didn’t mean anything was wrong. Still, he didn’t like the direction the company was taking. The Tortoise Consortium was slowly running the place into the ground, and there was nothing the employees could do about it. Word on the street was that anyone who spoke up against management went to the Big Farm in the Sky.

An owl hooted somewhere overhead. Peter looked around and took a deep breath. ‘Fine. Whatever. No more questions, I’ll do my job, even though it sucks, but you’ll have to find a new Easter Bunny for next year.’

‘Oh of course,’ said the tortoise. ‘You know very well that’s how it works. Once you’ve been an Easter Bunny your name is permanently taken out of the lottery. You won’t ever have to do it again.’

Peter picked up the basket and started loading the eggs back into it. ‘I still don’t trust you,’ he said.

‘You’re a rabbit,’ said the tortoise, ‘Your species is jittery almost by definition. Good night. You will be finished by sunrise.’

The tortoise disappeared with a popping sound and glittery crap cascaded to the ground. ‘I hate that fucking tortoise,’ said Peter to the owl.

‘Hoot!’

‘Yeah, you said it.’ Peter brushed the last of the dead leaves off his knees and ambled off into the forest.