Gerald Hides His Eggs

Gerald, the slow rotting Easter bunny, was stumbling around some suburban backyard, stashing Easter eggs so some spoiled little shit could find them in a couple of hours. He knocked his shin against a garden gnome that he didn't see and tossed his gaily colored basket to the ground.

"Mother... Piece of..."

He was trying to keep the language kid friendly today, he was already in deep water with the Easter Bunny Union, but the gin and carrot juice bonanza from the night before was creeping up on him. He ripped off his sunglasses and glared at the little porcelain gnome with eyes so red that they put a Maui sunset to shame.

"What's so funny?" He asked the gnome, who only continued to stare with a quizzical smile.

Gerald hauled off and kicked the statue, enjoying the sound of porcelain shards thumping against the soft and wet ground. He put his shades back on and picked up the basket. He poked thoughtfully at an ingrown hair on his chin.

Gerald's basket contained hollow, plastic eggs that he had begun filling with candy. At some point last night he had run out of candy and started filling them with those little airplane bottles of booze. At least two of the eggs in his basket had a couple of Percodan in them.

He had started diligently hiding the eggs, behind flower pots, atop fence posts, inside of gopher wholes, but now the constant bending and standing were making him feel a little nauseous. Gerald grabbed three eggs in his matted paw and flung them over towards the fence.

“It’s the Easter Bunny!” some shrill devil voice of a four year old rang across the yard.

Gerald spun around just as some tousle-haired midget ran into him full bore and gave him a hug. The kid bounced back fairly quickly with a look as though he had opened a box of meat that had been left in the desert for a week and a half.

“Look kid,” Gerald started. “Jesus died so that I could be here stashing candy for you. Yeah, I don’t get it either, but you’re not supposed to see me. So unless you want Jesus to be mad at you, forget ya saw me, capiche?”

Gerald was gonna really impress the kid by leaping over the back yard fence, but his paw got caught on the top on he took a five foot tumble on the other side that knocked the wind out of him. He lay there for a second, mumbling profanities, and then stood up, brushed himself off and broke into one of the opiate eggs.

“Worst day of the year,” he mumbled before hopping on along down the road.