Peter Cottentail

Here comes Peter Cottontail

Hoppin’ down the bunny trail.

Hippity, hoppity Easter’s on its way.

Bringin’ every girl and boy baskets full of Easter joy.

Things to make your Easter bright, and gay…………..

“If they play that damn song one more time I swear I’m going to rip those speakers out of the wall.” Brian scowled.

“Smile for the camera poppa.” Lindsey focused her camcorder on Brian’s face.

“Who thinks up this shit? A rabbit delivering eggs, that’s the dumbest thing I ever heard of.”

“Maybe you could talk a little louder Brian. I don’t think the children at the end of the line heard you.” Lindsey attempted to keep her voice down.

The line inside the Liberty Shopping Mall stretched three stores back with excited toddlers all waiting to meet Peter Cottontail. The erected home of the official bunny of Easter was rivaled only by Santa himself when it came to elaborate holiday displays. Rows of giant decorated eggs lined a cobblestone path to a small white bridge, that crossed over a shallow wading pool to Peter Cottontail’s house. Baby ducks from a nearby petting zoo, along with mama duck swam gingerly in the water past pastel colored flowers, and diminutive houses where animated woodland characters, dressed in their Sunday best waved to the children.

He’s got jelly beans for Tommy,

Colored eggs for sister Sue.

There’s an orchid for your mommy,

And an Easter bonnet too.

Oooh, here comes Peter Cottontail

Hoppin down the bunny trail.

Hippity, hoppity, happy Easter daaaay…….

“Jesus Christ.” Brian massaged the temples of his head. “For once Mel was right. You don’t see her standing line with a bunch of sugar hyped brats, waiting to talk to a giant rabbit. I have an idea. Let’s go get ice-cream. Would you like that sonny-boy.” He attempted to persuade his son.

“I wanna see Peter Cottontail.” Gus insisted.

“Honestly Brian, if I had known that you were going to be such a killjoy I wouldn’t have invited you. I thought you wanted to see Gus take a picture with the Easter bunny.” Lindsey licked her hand, and slid her moistened palm across the unruly cowlick in Gus’s hair.

“That’s disgusting.” Brian frowned.

“Didn’t your mom ever take you to see the Easter bunny?” Lindsey continued.

“No.”

“What about Peter Cottontail? Didn’t she ever read you the story about Peter Cottontail?”

“No, but Jack took me rabbit hunting once when I was ten.” Brian recalled. “We got up early in the morning while it was still dark. The dogs hunted the rabbit down, then my father gave me the pistol to shoot it. My hands were shaking so hard that he took the gun away from me, and shot the poor thing himself.”

Two mothers that were standing behind Lindsey attempted to distract their children who had joined Gus in listening to Brian’s story. In the meantime the line to Peter Cottontail’s house moved along. They had come to the little white bridge that crossed over the wading pool. Gus was next in line to sit on the famous bunny’s lap.

“It was my first hunt.” Brian continued. “Jack smeared the rabbit’s blood across my face, and made me haul the dead carcass home. He laid the rabbit on the chopping block, and lopped its head off with an axe. The damn thing fell on the ground, then rolled over onto my foot. I screamed bloody murder.”

“Oh my god, that’s awful.” Lindsey said.

“Next guest please!” Peter Cottontail’s assistant beckoned for Gus.

“And who is this? What’s your name little boy?” Peter Cottontail chuckled, and placed Gus on his knee.

Gus’s stared at the big blue lifeless eyes that didn’t blink, the huge pink nose with long spiky things sticking out of the side of it, and the giant teeth. “NOOOOOOOOO!”

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me, Peter!” The man inside the bunny costume attempted to calm the toddler, but Gus wasn’t buying it. Brian’s son balled up his two small fists, and punched the oversized rabbit in the nose as hard as he could.

“GUS!!” Lindsey, and Brian yelled out simultaneously, but it was too late. Peter Cottontail’s head tilted momentarily, then fell off of his shoulders, and onto the floor.

Now with the image of Brian’s murdered bunny implanted firmly in their young minds, and Peter Cottontail’s head rolling toward them at full speed, the four children who had been standing with their mothers behind Lindsey began to scream. “HE KILLED PETER COTTONTAIL!”

Pandemonium began to break loose as word of the murdered bunny quickly spread down the line. Gus leaped from the headless rabbit’s lap, and dashed through the wading pool. Mama duck, and her ducklings fled for their very lives when several of the stampeding children lost their balance, and slipped into the water. They were followed by their frantic parents who slammed into giant colored eggs, knocked over animated creatures, and demolished the fantasy village in an effort to rescue their young. Mall security hurried to the scene as Brian scanned the bedlam for his missing son. “GUS!” he called out.

“THERE HE IS! HE’S HEADED FOR THE DOOR. CATCH HIM!” Lindsey pointed.

Gus was dashing through the Easter shopping crowd, headed for the mall exit at full speed with Brian now in hot pursuit. The years of smoking had him gasping for air. How the hell could a toddler move so fast? “GUS STOP!” he called out one time.

“Daaaaaddy!” The toddler finally answered.

Brian staggered over to the mall vestibule where a sopping wet Gus stood trembling like a cornered rat. The relieved father knelt down, and embraced his son. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you sonny-boy” he said.

“Am I going to jail daddy?” Gus sniffed.

“Jail?”

“I didn’t mean to kill Peter Cottontail daddy.”

“You didn’t kill him. He’s not dead.” Brian assured his son. “Would you like to go back, and see him?”

“No. Let’s go get ice-cream daddy.” Gus whimpered.

“Ok sonny-boy.” Brian smiled.

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