Monday, May 16, 2011

An Easter Story, submission by Liz McMurray

A pink bunny rabbit chugging a Redbull was hopping along a creek one day when it saw a toad. The bunny said to the toad in it’s over excited fever-pitched voice, "good day, Mr. Toad! How are you?!?"
The toad replied with a grumpy grunt, “I’ve no time to waste talking to caffeine -addicted bunny rabbits such as yourself. Now go away with you. Be gone, I say!"
"BUT SIR!" said the bunny rabbit. "I have some very important information about your true birth parents."
"W-what do you mean?" spluttered the toad.
"Well, you see," squeaked the bunny rabbit in his high voice. “I’ve been going through the birth records in the hospital trying to find out my true middle name. my parents had so many little baby bunny children that they forgot me and I’m about to be married to a lovely canary yellow bunny from New Jersey. According to ancient bunny tradition a little bunny can’t get married unless he has a middle name and if he can’t get married they send him away to work in the Easter egg factories. They call the boss...the ....the... EASTER BUNNY!"
"Well, little bunny," said the toad. "That sounds rather unfair if you ask me."
"I don’t deny it, sir toad, but there isn’t a thing a little bunny can do about it. While I was looking for my own records I stumbled upon yours. It’s very important. I was watching gossip girl and the real son of what’s-his-name is actually evil and so it rang a bell with your own situation but the opposite. ya know?...
"You see, I decided to sneak into the secret birth-file section with Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak. Nice fellow, that Harry Potter, lending me his dad’s cloak and all. Anyways, I found your file there! And rightly so! Covered in dust was your sordid history. It turns out... that... that... your father is.... none other than..."
"Wait, rabbit! I don’t think I can take the pressure." Mr. Toad took a handkerchief out of his mouth-pouch and shaking, wiped his forehead with more slime. "I’m so nervous I’m drying out!"
"What you have to understand," said the toad. "Is that when I realized that I was... a mix up... I travelled, ashamed for a very long time. All the other toads made fun of me. I’ve always felt an affinity with your kind, the furry mammal kind, and I never knew why..."
"Well, toad!" squeaked the bunny. "I have your answer."



"Your true father... was... the Easter Bunny!"
"That horrible creature! That king of cruelty! It just can’t be! How will I live with the knowledge that the blood of such a hated creature runs through my veins?! How could this happen?"
"Well, it says here in your mother’s testimony, sir toad, that she was a beautiful maid at the Easter egg factory. The Easter Bunny told her to work late one night and clean the bar... then he offered her a Cadbury brandy after all the other nameless bunnies had gone. He put Barry White in the record player. Then.... he...he... used his Easter Bunny magic against her as he had against so many others. She said that she couldn’t resist the passion."
"Well, what’s done is done, I suppose," sighed toad. "But no one must know of this or I’ll never work in show business again!"
"Your secret’s safe with me, sir!" squeaked bunny with a funny little salute.
"I know," gravely said the toad in a low yet powerful voice. As toad reached for the rock behind his back, he fathomed the depths of fear beginning to form in bunny’s eyes. He searched those eyes until the light in them went out.


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