Bunnies of Dooooooom!

 

It is time.

The annual Easter horror is once again upon us, in the form of bizarrely proportioned lapinesque beings with an inexplicable habit of distributing the colorfully painted unhatched offspring of hapless chickens to all and sundry.

Easter Bunny

The giant bunnies mark their prey with fancy hats.

As all five or six of the regular readers of this blog already know, I have my own way of dealing with Easter and the baleful bunnies of spring: The Annual Telling of the Story. It goes a little something like this:

Once upon a time, when I was a small child, my parents bought a gigantic inflatable Easter Bunny. It was about 6 feet tall, and just as Easter Bunnyish as can be. My father blew up the monstrous thing (I am assured that it was a difficult process, which is some small consolation, I suppose, for what follows), and stuck it in a coat closet for safe keeping, so that it would be a surprise.

Oh, how right he was about the surprise.

Imagine that you are a small child. You have visions of sweet little bunnies and candy in your head, and you’re happily hunting all over the house for Easter eggs. It is a fun day, a beautiful day, and you are wearing your Easter best with at least some semblance of grace (for a change). You expect nothing.

Then you open the closet door, and IT comes out.

It is GIGANTIC — as tall as your father (taller!) — and it smells like plastic. It fairly explodes out of the closet. You try to get away in your utter shock, but you are unable to escape — the scary, smelly plastic thing has tackled you.

A young girl poses with the

This kid knows *exactly* what I’m talking about.

All of your worst childhood fears about monsters in closets are in that moment proved entirely reasonable and right. They are real, and they will jump out at you when you least suspect it. Screaming seems to be an appropriate response to reality at the moment, so screaming is exactly what you do.

And your parents…laugh. They can hardly help themselves.

Because it is hilarious. I mean, it really is.

Every Easter, I remember the day paranoia became a reasonable position to take. The monsters in the closet are real, and they will get you, and it will be comedy gold.

 

Freakin’ BUNNIES, man.

Thanks, Mom and Dad! Happy Easter! :)

 


Photo credits for the two black and white images above:
1. The Library of Virginia
2. Johnson, Francis P. A young girl poses with the “easter bunny”. 1953. Black & white photoprint, 5 x 4 in. Florida Memory (State Library and Archives of Florida)

Content in this post has appeared in previous Easter retellings, beginning in 2014. Hey, it’s my blog — I can do that if I want to!

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About L. M. Bernhardt

For a good long while (15 years or so), I taught philosophy at a little private university in northwest IA, and occasionally branched out into playing music, dabbling in photography, experimenting with food, and writing nonsense on my blog. The philosophy teaching part ended in 2017 (program elimination via prioritization), but never fear! I've just finished my MLIS at San Jose State University, and I'm currently on the market looking for new adventures in either philosophy or LIS. Otherwise, I labor to support my dogs in the lavish manner to which they've become accustomed.
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