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The real Easter Bunny

By RICK RYCKELEY
Contributing Writer

The egg hunts are ended, the brightly colored baskets put away until next year. The chocolate bunnies have had their ears bitten off by hungry little children, and you’re all worn out wrestling the kids for that last delectable Cadbury egg.

As you lay in your recliner trying to catch your breath, just before you doze off two thoughts slowly creep into your mind: Just where did your wife hide that second bag of Cadbury Eggs, and just what does the Easter Bunny do for the rest of the year? The answer to the first question I can’t help you with, but the second one I can. For you see, the Easter Bunny lives under our tool shed in the backyard.

A small knock came at the door early Saturday morning, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it as I slowly lumbered my way towards the kitchen for that first glass of super sweet tea that would jolt my mind into awareness. It would be one of many downed throughout the day by this natural-born Georgia boy. Can’t imagine how anyone could drink tea without it being loaded with sugar; that’s just un-American. Well, at least it’s un-Georgian.

But I digress. The small rap at the door repeated itself again. Not fully awake, I diverted my attention, and taste buds, from the kitchen and my golden glass of caffeine, stumbled over the cat, hit the wall, stubbed my toe, reached for the front door, and opened it. Outside two ten-year-old boys stood and said in unison (way too cheerful for so early in the morning), “Hi, Fireman Rick!”

I mumbled a polite response as the pain throbbed from my toe to my still-not-fully-functioning brain. I tried to listen as the boys began to explain that their Easter Bunny got loose and now lives under my tool shed, but all I could hear was my glass of super sweet tea calling me from the fridge. Luckily The Wife saw my dilemma and my stubbed toe, came to my rescue, and handed me a band-aid and my caffeine, er, tea.

With tea in hand I followed the two boys as they crept around the house and pointed to a gray and black bunny that had indeed taken up residence in our backyard. As we approached, it hopped over and scurried beneath the shed. The boys asked me if I could catch it. Standing up straight, I puffed up my chest and told them, “Sure kids, don’t worry. Fireman Rick will soon catch and return your bunny safe and sound before you can finish eating all of your Easter eggs.”

Well, that’s what I told them in my mind; I still wasn’t fully awake yet, so I just grunted a “Yeah, sure.” As the boys ran back to their house, warmed by the thought that the fireman next door would soon return their pet bunny, I thought, “Honestly, how hard could it be to catch a little fuzzy gray and black bunny?” How hard, indeed.

Armed with a “Have a Hart Trap,” a loaner from best friend Mitch, and a box of Honey Nut Cheerios (the food of choice for Easter bunnies), I headed for the tool shed to set the trap. A check the next morning found that we had caught a very upset possum fully equipped with a pair of beady red eyes, a mean smile, and a face full of sharp teeth. No gray and black bunny anywhere. Got The Boy to release the possum, and I reset the trap with more Honey Nut Cheerios. Catching the Easter Bunny was proving to be somewhat difficult.

The next morning, after two sausage and cheese biscuits and another glass of super sweet tea, I bounded out of the house fully confident that the trap had done its job. Sure enough, it held a captive: the black cat from next door. The services of The Boy were once again called for and he let the cat go, then he pointed out that the gray and black bunny was in the side-yard watching us as it ate some grass. Now it was personal.

That night I added a small amount of lettuce, some raisins, and a crumbled up graham cracker to the bowl. It was a true bunny smorgasbord placed in back of the cage that night, and surely by morning the pesky bunny would be caught and I would successfully carry it back up the street to two grateful little boys. But no, such would not be the case.

The next morning, The Wife, The Boy and I walked out into the backyard only to find the trap was on its side - empty. The gray and black Easter Bunny was in the middle of the rose garden, munching on The Wife’s roses for dessert.

The Boy laughed and said with an evil gleam in his eye, “Ya know, that bunny’s so fat now it’ll make a great bunny stew or maybe we could grill it; that is, if we could only catch it.” Shocked at his comment, in unison we both said, “No!” The Easter Bunny got scared, hopped over, and squeezed under the tool shed.

I assured The Boy that if we ever catch the gray and black bunny that now lives under our tool shed, we’d return it.  Then, with an evil gleam in my eye, I turned to him and added, “Besides, that bunny’s too small to make enough stew for all of us, and I don’t think there’ll be enough meat there to make for a big barbeque.” Then I punched him in the arm.  “But you, on the other hand, have a lot of meat on your bones.”

Later The Wife told me she didn’t think barbequing The Boy was a very good idea. “With all those muscles, he’d be too tough.” She’s probably right. The way he’s been around the house lately, he’ll just be full of vinegar.

I do love The Boy, but there’s only three months, three weeks, and two days before classes start at Auburn University. Not that I’m counting, mind you.