The Emo Bunny that Should, A Story for Demented Children

Copyright 2011 John H. Carroll

Revised September 2011

Cover image Copyright 2011 John H. Carroll 

This is dedicated to demented children who don’t care about Dick and Jane fetching a pail of water and would rather read about them falling down the hill.

Emo the Bunny was sad.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have anybody to play with, it was that he didn’t want to play at all.  While other bunnies were dancing, thumping and hopping all about, Emo preferred to lie in a dark corner and twitch his nose.  What he really wanted was for someone to come and hold him, rubbing his cheek until everything was okay.

The glossy, black-haired bunny with grey-bottomed feet lived with his parents and siblings in an upside-down coffin that had been thrown out by humans years ago.  The coffin had old purple fuzz inside that Emo liked to rub his back and ears against, making purple streaks throughout his fur.  Some of the other bunnies teased him about it, but they made fun of everything about him and he just didn’t care anymore.  Actually, he did care, he just didn’t show how miserable the taunting made him feel.

The one bunny he did like was Haylo.  Emo had accidentally bumped against her once and noticed her chestnut-brown fur was softer than anything in the world.  Her smile, as he stammered out an apology, had melted his heart.  It was the only time she had noticed him because her parents didn’t like bunnies that were different.

Emo’s mother came through the entrance, which was a hole in one end of the coffin.  “Get outside, Emo.  It’s too pretty of a day to sit around sulking.”

“I don’t want to.”  He growled at her and pawed at the ground with his nails, but she took him by the scruff and dragged him outside.

It was a cheerful, sunny day with birds singing joyous songs.  It bothered Emo because when it was sunny outside, he was expected to do awful things like forage and socialize.  Cloudy days were his favorite, when the sun wasn’t too bright and everyone stopped hippity hopping everywhere.

Emo dashed into the thick forest behind the coffin, away from the bright clearing where other bunnies were playing.  He wandered through the trees, looking for a quiet, shady area to hide in.  Sometimes he would see a butterfly.  Other bunnies enjoyed chasing butterflies, but Emo just stared at their pretty colors and wished he could be so beautiful.

A mild breeze brought the scent of flowers and fresh dew to Emo’s ever-twitching nose.  His long, floppy ears heard a myriad of insects, birds and various woodland creatures going about their industrious activities.  The whole thing depressed Emo to no end.  Why did everything have to be so wonderful when he was trying to wallow in misery? 

*** 

It was then that he saw the famed Easter Bunny.  The giant idol of Easter was six feet tall with white fur, a blue jacket, enormous ears and a permanent smile on his face.  Word in the forest was that the Easter Bunny wore contacts so people wouldn’t see that his eyes were actually black with fiery red pupils.

Duck minions traveling with the Easter Bunny had captured two bunnies from Emo’s side of the forest and shoved them into cages to be taken away to the Easter egg factory.  The cages were stacked in an evil, duck-shaped wagon pulled by two beaten deer.  Frightened chickens cowering in other cages on the wagon would be forced to lay Easter eggs.  In another cage was a dejected goose taken to hard-boil the eggs that the bunnies would then paint.

It was a hidden, cruel side of the Easter Bunny that humans didn’t know about.  Santa Claus originally had a similar situation with overworked elves before they formed a union to overcome appalling working conditions.  Now the elves ran the show at the North Pole and Santa was just a simple delivery driver.