* INTERVIEW WITH THE EASTER BUNNY
(edited) * Written by John Scalzi With the possible exception of
Santa Claus himself, there is not a busier mammal on the face of the earth than
the Easter Bunny. Once a year, the Easter Bunny hops into the home of hundreds
of millions of boys and girls all over the globe, dropping off chocolates, candy
and eggs as part of the celebration
of Easter. Joe Reporter spent a few minutes with the Easter Bunny as he was preparing
for this year's task, for a tell-all, no-holds-barred interview. If you thought
you knew the Easter Bunny, you just may be surprised. Joe Reporter: Thanks for
talking to us. Easter Bunny: No problem. Do
you mind if I eat while we talk? (takes out a packet of small green pellets)
I've been in a rush recently. JOE: Go right ahead. We've got
a list of questions here, compiled from our members, and I'll just go down the
list if you don't mind. Easter Bunny: Ready when you
are. JOE: The first question comes
from Ted, in Dayton, Ohio. He writes: "We all know that Santa's Workshop
is located at the North Pole. Does the Easter Bunny have a workshop, and if so,
where is it located?" Easter Bunny: Well, Ted, the
answer is yes, I do have a workshop. It's located in San
Bernardino, California. JOE: San Bernardino? Easter Bunny:
That's right. JOE: You have to understand that
most people would have figured some place like Easter
Island. Easter Bunny: Have you *been*
to Easter Island? What a rock! It's the single most isolated piece of land on
the planet. By the time we shipped fresh eggs there, we'd have chickens. Besides,
San Bernardino has the sort of motivated labor
pool we need. JOE: Elves? Easter Bunny: Laid-off aerospace
workers. JOE: They would seem to be a
little overqualified. Easter Bunny: Maybe. But now
we have some lovely chocolate stealth bombers. JOE: Our next question comes
from Cindy, in Tempe. She writes: "Why is the Easter Bunny a bunny? Why couldn't
it have been the Easter Kitty, or the Easter Puppy?" Easter Bunny: That's a very good
question. In fact, in the late 70s, we as an organization decided to play around
with the whole "bunny" thing by recruiting prominent local animals to deliver
Easter baskets. In 1978, when the experiment was at its height, we had an Easter
Bunny, an Easter Coyote, an Easter Manatee
and an Easter Komodo Dragon. JOE: What happened? Easter Bunny: It just didn't
work out. The Komodo dragon ate the eggs, the coyote just flaked out, and the
manatee, if I may say so, was just about as dumb as a stick. There were some
other problems with the program, too. The less we talk about the whole Easter
Man-Eating Bengali Swamp Tiger episode, the better. Now we stick with bunnies.
We know bunnies. We can work with
bunnies. Bunnies don't eat anyone. JOE: Bob in Honolulu
asks: "Is there is just one Easter Bunny? Moreover, has the same Easter Bunny
been the Easter Bunny for the last couple of millennia?" Easter Bunny: The fact of the
matter is that there are quite a few Easter Bunnies, and we've never made a secret
about that. Unlike the Santa Claus operation, which works under the improbable
assumption that one guy delivers all those
presents - JOE: Are you saying that Santa
is a sham? Easter Bunny: I didn't say that.
I never said that. What I am saying is that *we* don't work under the same sort
of constraints. I mean, think about it. One bunny delivering baskets to several
hundred million homes across the planet? The friction from the atmosphere alone
would turn the poor guy into a bunny briquette. There'd be hideous charcoal smudges
all over the baskets. "Easter
Bunny" is a job description, not a proper name. It's like "Postal Carrier," except
our employees very rarely become disgruntled. JOE: So why are you THE Easter
Bunny? Easter Bunny: Because I'm boss.
You're not an Easter Bunny until I say you are. JOE: How does one become an Easter
Bunny? Easter Bunny: Well, it's not
just hopping down the bunny trail, I'll tell you. First, for reasons already
explained, you have to be a bunny. After that, we have a psychological evaluation
and a battery of physical tests you have to pass. We can't afford to have an
Easter Bunny cramp up at the beginning
of his run. JOE: Any famous rabbits turned
down for the job? Easter Bunny: I don't want to
name names. But one bunny who's making a living in the breakfast cereal industry,
we had to let go. Any time a child would try to get an Easter basket from him,
he'd back away and start snarling. He was a silly rabbit. Easter baskets are
for kids. JOE: He seems to have gotten
better since then. Easter Bunny:
Prozac helps. JOE: Albert from Coeur d'Alene,
Idaho, wants to know what are the occupational hazards of being
the Easter Bunny. Easter Bunny: There are several.
Large dogs are always a problem, of course: one moment you're delivering a basket
of goodies, the next, a Rottweiler named Pinochet is on you like a meat-filled
sock. Nervous homeowners with guns wing a couple of bunnies a year, as do edgy
cops and private security guards. We don't even bother trying to deliver to the
children of militia members anymore; first they'll plug you for being on their
land, then they'll make you into jerky and a pair of gloves. But you know what
our number one problem
is? JOE: What? Easter Bunny: Sliding glass doors.
Sometimes we'll just forget they're there. Man, that's
embarrassing. JOE: Here's an interesting question,
from Amy, in New York City. She writes: "How does the Easter Bunny get along
with Santa Claus? It seems like Santa gets all
the attention." And I have to say, I did notice some tension earlier, when you
brought him up. Easter Bunny (Looking uncomfortable):
Well, you know, look. I don't want to say anything bad about the guy. He does
what he does, and I do what I do. Professionally,
we get along fine. JOE: But privately? Easter Bunny: Is that tape recorder
turned off? JOE: Uh.....sure. Easter Bunny: He's a big ol'
pain in this bunny's bottom. For one thing, he's a prima donna: always me, me,
me, where's my highball, where's my corned beef sandwich, tell this dumb bunny
to get his own dressing room. I'd rather be trapped in a sack with Joan Crawford.
For another, he's totally paranoid
of other large men. He thinks that Luciano Pavarotti is trying to move into his
territory. Last year it was John Goodman. He actually danced when Orson Welles
kicked, waving his pistol and bellowing "Rosebud!" from the top of his lungs. JOE: Wow. He
seems a little scary. Easter Bunny: You think? And
yet he gets all the publicity. Why? We do the same job. Mine's actually tougher,
since I'm moving perishable stuff. You can't have bad eggs or stale chocolate,
you know. Folks wouldn't stand for it. I have to maintain strict quality control.
The only food product he has to worry about is fruitcake. You could tile the
Space Shuttle with fruitcake. JOE: We're sure you have your
own fans. Easter Bunny: It's like opening
for the Beatles, is all. And he *is* the walrus, if you
know what I mean. JOE: One final question, from
Pat, in Rockford, Illinois; "Does the Easter Bunny actually lay eggs? How does
that happen, since the Easter Bunny is both male and
a mammal?" Easter Bunny: Well, platypuses
are mammals, and they lay eggs. So it's not impossible. JOE: That still leaves the male
part. Easter Bunny: We're quibbling
on details, here. JOE: Maybe there should be an
Easter Platypus. Easter Bunny: Sorry. We tried
that in '78.
