THE EASTER BUNNY’S RETIREMENT PARTY A Fable for Our Times Don Beaudreau
wbeaudreau@aol.com
O
nce upon a time, there was a festive gathering of the famous and fabulous at a party hosted by the Easter Bunny. The list included Cupid, Santa Claus, the Fairy Godmother, the Great Jehovah, St. Patrick, Punxsutawney Phil, the New Year Baby, the Grim Reaper, the Tooth Fairy, the Three Little Pigs, the Three Blind Mice, the Three Stooges, Goldilocks without the Three Bears, Cinderella, Father Time, Jack-O’-Lantern, Little Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf, Tom Turkey, Tom Thumb, Thumbelina, Mother Nature, Casey at the Bat, the Velveteen Rabbit, Johnny Appleseed, John Bunyan, John Henry, Oh Johnny Be Good, and Don Juan. Ms. Bunny, a Free Thinker, had invited them because she was weary with the same old/same old celebrations at Easter time and figured that representatives of other holidays, traditions, myths, stories, and songs might be able to invent a new celebration. She, in fact, wanted to retire. “Something inclusive, but sparkling,” she explained to her guests. “This business of sunrise and flowers and jellybeans and dyed eggs is quite tiresome to me. Not to mention the fact that every Easter, I am the star. I wanna retire! I’m tired of mommies and daddies dragging me out of attics and closets and basements and putting me on display. Toy bunnies and plastic bunnies; dollbaby bunnies and Styrofoam bunnies; pink and green and chartreuse bunnies; big and furry, and fluffy and flouncy bunnies. And candy bunnies: chocolate bunnies (hollow or solid; white or dark; with nuts or without nuts); marshmallow bunnies; and gummi worm bunnies. And bunny cakes and bunny Baskin-Robbins ice cream concoctions. Even bunny lawn displays lit up at night. None of this is cute to me anymore! I wanna retire! I want my star on the sidewalk in Hollywood next to Elizabeth Taylor’s!” Well, Ms. Bunny’s announcement came as a shock to her guests. Nobody ever had thought to change Easter. Eas-
ter had always been Easter. And Ms. Bunny had always been Ms. Bunny. Certainly, she was only joking with them, wasn’t she? “Ain’t nothin’ funny about it!” she assured them. “My whiskers droop, my tail doesn’t salute, my fur doesn’t respond to dry cleaning the way it used to, my ears don’t flop anymore—they just lie there waiting for a resurrection. I need a change!” “Ho! Ho! Ho!” chuckled the everchuckling chub himself, Santa Claus. “Easter wouldn’t be Easter without you, Ms. Bunny.” “We agree! We agree! We agree!” squealed the Three Little Pigs in unison. “You can say that again! And again! And again!” affirmed Punxsutawney Phil, the monarch of Groundhog Day. “We agree! We agree! We agree!” said the Three Little…you know whats. But Ms. Bunny would have none of their protest. After all, she was firm in her desire to exterminate any semblance of bunny business in the world. No one could convince her otherwise. No matter how big and luscious a carrot they dangled before her ever-pink-eyed condition. Truly, although Ms. Bunny’s stage name was Easter Bunny, her birth name was Bette Davis Bunny. The old gal was tough. “Anybody got a shamrock?” said St. Patrick, hoping to bring some luck to this tense situation. “No, but I got a few extra teeth,” said the Tooth Fairy, smiling. The New Year Baby began to cry in fear. The Grim Reaper and the Big Bad Wolf began to eye Ms. Bunny with interest. “I’ll take her place,” announced Cinderella, hoping for further professional advancement. “Oh, I would be such a wonderful Easter symbol. A rags-toriches story: from the scullery to the palace; from the dark and dank and stink and stank of the drearies and deadlies of winter cometh spring . . . spring . . . spring!” Continued on page 12
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El Ojo del Lago / April 2022
