The Comedy Basement 
The Fuckin' Easter Bunny 

I woke up in the middle of the night to find the Easter Bunny passed out on my couch with a Cheers re-run playing on the television in front of him. I was pretty surprised to see him there considering it wasn’t even Easter yet – that and at 30 years old, I had been so sure the Easter Bunny didn’t exist.

       I crept up behind him, wondering what he was doing in my house and on my couch watching Cheers. I slowly reached over and tapped him on the shoulder.

       “Excuse me?”

       Startled, he jumped and yelled.


       Which caused me to yell.


       "Who are you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. His voice was deep and rough like he had smoked one too many cigarettes.

       “I’m Larry. Who are you?” I felt foolish. Of course, I knew who he was. 

       He called me on it. “What are you, retarded? I’m the fuckin’ Easter Bunny.”

       “I know. Sorry.”

       The Easter Bunny sat up. I noticed a glass of Scotch on the floor beside him. He picked it up and took a sip. I couldn’t help but stare.

       “What the hell you looking at?” the Easter Bunny yelled. He definitely had an attitude problem. Not what I would have expected from somebody who delivers chocolate eggs to children for a living – on a religious holiday nonetheless.

       “Nothing,” I sheepishly responded. I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. “So what’s up, man?”

       “What’s up?” the Easter Bunny downed the rest of the Scotch and dropped the glass on to the floor. “What’s up?” his scratchy voice grew louder. “I’m the fuckin’ Easter Bunny. I don’t need to tell you what’s up.” He got up from the couch and looked around. “I already raided your liquor cabinet…got anything else to drink?”

       I was shocked that the Easter Bunny had such a thirst for anything other than carrot juice, yet I could not lie to him.

       “There should be a few beers in the fridge.”

       “Alright,” he exclaimed and disappeared into my kitchen. He made quite a bit of noise as he rummaged through my refrigerator looking for beer and God knows what else. He returned to the living room with two beers and a plate of cold pizza.    

       “Beer?” he offered as he sunk back onto the couch.

       “I’m good.”

       “Suit yourself,” he said as he double fisted both beers, pausing only to scarf down bites of cold pizza.

       I sat there for a few minutes in silence and simply watched as the Easter Bunny sat on my couch, drinking my beer and eating my leftover pizza.

       “Oh man,” the Easter Bunny cried as he wiped crumbs from his whiskers. “That was some good-ass pizza. Beer wasn’t bad either. What kind was it?”

       “Lucky,” I revealed, a little embarrassed that I had purchased the world’s most affordable lager.

       “That’s cheap shit,” he told me. “Next time, get some Heineken or Guinness.”

       “Next time?” I made the mistake of asking him.

       “What?” he snapped. “Am I not welcome back?”

       “Well no,” I struggled with my words. “It’s just that I’m not really sure why you showed up here to begin with.”

       “Hey,” he shouted. “I’m the fuckin’ Easter Bunny. I don’t owe you any explanation. If Santa Claus showed up here, you’d probably offer to share your bed with him, give him a hand job and bake him a cake for breakfast…like that fat bastard needs to eat any more.”

       I did not know how to respond. “Look,” I tried to explain myself carefully. “I don’t mind that you’re here. But, I just want to know why…it’s not even Easter yet. It’s only the first day of spring.” I looked at my watch, it was a bit after 3 a.m. “Barely.”

       The Easter Bunny laughed. “You wanna know why I’m here?” He slid over on the couch. “Have a seat and I’ll tell ya.”

       I sat down beside him. He smelled like he had been in a smoky bar all night. The Easter Bunny pulled out a pack of cigarettes and began to smoke. It was then when I realized that that smoky bar he smelled like was actually my living room. He put a paw on my shoulder and with a slow drag of his cigarette began to explain why he was in my house.

       “You see Larry, I work pretty hard and the way I see it is that every now and then, I deserve a little break. You follow?”

       I nodded my head. “Yes.”

       “Alright, well every year on the eve of the first day of spring, I get pretty loaded back at my place – box of wine, cough medicine, whatever I can find – and eventually wander into your world where I stumble into a random house where I drink all their booze and eventually pass out on the couch. It’s a simple tradition.”

       “Okay,” I began to understand. “So this year I was the lucky person whose house you decided to break into?”

       “There, you got it,” he assured me.

       “Wow,” I realized that I was pretty lucky to be experiencing such an event. “What an honor.”

       I grabbed a few more beers for the Easter Bunny and myself and we spent the rest of the night drinking and watching Cheers. Before we passed out, I drunkenly looked into his big bunny eyes and slurred, “You’re welcome back here anytime, man.”

       After all, he was the fuckin’ Easter Bunny.

       With a smile on my face and an aching pain in my head, I awoke the next morning in an uncomfortable position on my living room floor. As crazy as last night was, I was happy to have shared it with the Easter Bunny, a true legend and someone who I could now call a friend. I didn’t remember many details from our time together except that we had shared some our darkest secrets and had even shook hands on some type of deal.

       As I got up from the floor and stumbled around my living room, I speculated on what that deal could have been: Was the Easter Bunny now my new roommate? Did I agree to let him date my younger sister? I couldn’t remember.

       I looked around the room to survey the damage: empty beer cans, cigarette burns in the couch, a tipped over dining room table and a giant stain on the carpet. Pretty typical results of a wild two-man party, I suppose. I picked up my television remote and went to turn on the TV, when my eyes widened at the sight of an empty space in the area where my TV once stood.

       “What the hell?” I wondered aloud.

       I inched closer to the area where my TV once stood and shook my head in confusion. There laid a note written on the back of my once framed university diploma and suddenly, I was beginning to remember the deal the Easter Bunny and myself had made.

       I picked up the piece of paper and read its contents, scribbled in orange crayon “Hey Larry – thanks for the good times, your pal – The Easter Bunny.” There was more. “P.S. – and the TV, too.”

       I angrily crumpled up the note/university degree and threw it on the floor. I stomped around my living room like an angry ogre until finally collapsing on my pee stained carpet.

       I wept quietly for a few moments, not from the loss of my TV but from the betrayal of a friend… my best friend – the Easter Bunny.

       The fuckin’ Easter Bunny       

                                                                          Copyright © The Comedy Basement 2010