There were No Bunnies this Easter

There is an infestation of hares in my neighborhood, and we are on the brink of being overrun. Every night as I lay my head down on my pillow, I hear them out in my yard, hopping smugly, and leaving behind piles of little black capers. They're arranged and distributed evenly like crop circles, evidence that these little bastards mean to mock me.

I won't take this lying down, oh ho, not me! Late at night I send my dog out with specific orders in German to grab them and shake vigorously, but as the old saying goes, that dog won't hunt. I attached a plastic statue of an owl to the end of a tall wrought iron pole and mounted it to my deck as a last ditch effort to gain a tactical advantage and instill fear in their tiny feral hearts - but this was met with that arrogant, blank rabbit stare, and has inspired them to only infest harder. The squirrels, in a vulgar display of open defiance have begun taunting me by leaving piles of chewed acorn shells at the owl's feet. I am this close to heading to the sporting section of WalMart and picking out a starter rifle - the kind you can discharge within city limits without much resistance.

But then came Easter. Now I stand on the edge of my deck late at night and the rabbits are gone. Where did they go? Were they ravaged by the pale fox that stalks the neighborhood? Were they turned to stew by the local poor? I can only hope. But my real concern is that some dad with a soft spot in his heart and a very young daughter put out a Havaheart trap and caught himself an Easter present - bringing these rabid little beasts into his house where they will surely bite the help and incur thousands in punitive damages in civil court, reinforcing the dumb greed cycle.

The Story of Easter

The idea of a Zombie Jesus who stalks one random Saturday night every Spring looking for fresh Christians to feast upon, dropping little, colorful egg-shaped hunks of his own soured and rotten Jesus-flesh for small children to find and eat the following Sunday is, to say the least, only a little bit disturbing. Add to that a Night of the Lepus breaking and entering scavenger hunt staring the demented rabbit from Donnie Darko, and the mythology becomes just plain silly.

Here's how it really went down:

Some two thousand years ago there was a guy called Jesus. Imagine a mix between The Dude in The Big Lebowski and Matthew McConaughey - generally a piece loving, abs-rocking party boy. Jesus and his posse tried to overthrow the financial corruption in their time in much the same way Fonzie might have on Happy Days.

In response to this flagrant misbehavior, The Man came down on our hero, and hard. One of Jesus' homies sold him out, and he was tried for war crimes. The Man - 1, The Jesus - 0. They even put him up on a cross as if to say to the other party boys: I got you all in check. It is in this way that Jesus died for some sins.

Jesus' posse, having seen his corpse wink mischievously, stole his body and hid it in a cave. A few weeks or months later, Jesus woke up from his bummer-coma, stretched, and sought out his posse. Having reconvened, they threw a wonderful party with plentiful fruits and breads and delicious meats and wine - oh, was there wine! This party went on for several days, but unbeknownst to the posse, he had died late on the first night, having slipped on a banana peel and suffering a severe brain hemorrhage.