Easter Bunnies -- Get Free Sugar

Money’s been tight chez Slump. But the Good Lord above keeps me in His thoughts. Right in the nick of time He scheduled Easter to occur. You never know when it's going to be, but it's always about the same time as the Easter craft sale at the shopping center. As if by design.

Tossing and turning one night, I had an idea to increase sales of my bunnies, based on something my grandma used to say, “Give Grandma a little sugar.” Kiss her cheek and everything was right with the world. Then there was Grandpa, who always told us sugar was the key to good commerce: “You can sell anything with sugar on it!”

But since they died, the world’s been wracked with diabetic fits; everyone I know except me gets them. The neighbor guy, he has diabetic fits so bad there's a special fence around his yard to set off an alarm if sugar is near. If he even hears of sugar in the neighborhood — picture a kid a mile away with a Kool-Aid stand — he goes to his 1950s fallout shelter. Authentically stocked in every way, old vaccines, canned meat, and pith helmets for his family, who by now are grown and moved away or dead.

Anyway, putting all the pieces together, and not sounding any alarms in the neighborhood, I did what would’ve been unthinkable in the old days — when craft sales were the universal craze and you had to beat the crowds back with threats of arrest and deportation — I sweetened the deal for customers. I bought several five-pound bags of sugar and was prepared to give away a spoonful of sugar with every bunny purchased.

I had to do something, because, face it, craft sales aren't what they used to be. They've more or less fallen into abject desuetude, am I right? While there’s still a few old dinosaurs like me trying to keep them going, basically it's no use. Why? Most of us blame the internet. Look at the evidence: You’d have to be pretty dumb not to realize you can make all the crafts you want right at home for a fraction of the price. The instructions for everything are right there. The only thing they can't fake is the deep love we dedicated crafters put into our product. Not one of my bunnies leaves me without knowing I'd never part with it for anything but money.

So I had the idea early yesterday: I would give away free sugar, a teaspoon of sugar with every sale. I tell you, it went great guns. I’d barely set up and a woman came over and was going nuts over the bunnies: “How cute! Have you named them? Where’d you ever get the idea?!” I figured she was toying with me, rubbing it in just before she set them down and vacated the premises. But, no, she was sincere and bought one! But it turned out she didn’t want the sugar. “Give mine to someone else.” She held her belly as if to say, either, “I’m still full from breakfast” or “This is where my diabetic demon dwells.”

To summarize the course of events. Right away, I sold around 15 bunnies and none of the ladies wanted the sugar! I thought it over: 1) More profits for me; 2) I can use the sugar myself; it’s found money; or, 3) I can use it as a promotion to get more people to my table. How best to do that? KIDS! I usually shoo kids away, since there’s no more natural thief or merchandise-breaker than a crummy kid. “Oh, we’re so innocent, we didn’t know the bunnies were for sale!” Or “They must be very poorly made to break so easily, I’m sure Johnny or Sally didn’t mean it! What have you got in them anyway, a quarter apiece?” Dadcrumb, sonofa buck'n, God! ... bless you...

So a kid gets within 10 feet of my table -- are you with me? -- and I'd call them over and get them admiring the bunnies. “Would you care for a free tablespoon of sugar?” This was like 20-25 kids, amazing since kids are more generally dumped by their parents at the arcade. And every kid wanted sugar! Which got me thinking back to my childhood ... If there was a scuzzy old man in the neighborhood giving away free sugar, we'd be there. We didn't care what he was up to.

The great thing about this is, It was a total success! Not only did moms come over and completely thank me for being such a generous goodhearted person for giving their kids free treats, they were buying bunnies to compensate me. More, more, more! Plus, it seemed that just having sugar at my table gave me a better reputation. You seem sweeter if you're seen with sugar! But what about giving sugar to kids without their mother’s permission? I believe it made them happier, since I assumed it'd be OK. And because I wasn’t putting pressure on them, trying to get them to buy a bunny in return. (I know my own parents would've appreciated all the free food anyone might randomly give us.) Which meant they bought bunnies out of their own free will, not as an expectation.

OK, let’s assume most of the kids will survive the sugar. I'm hoping for at least a 90% survival rate. Next year I’ll be giving away other loss leaders. Not just sugar, but sugary drinks, sugary candies, sugary cereal, whatever I can get my sweet little hands on! With a dish of prunes, let's say, just to be on the safe side, if diabetes rears its ugly head.

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Previous Easter Bunny Craft Sales:

2010:
Local Man Makes and Sells Easter Bunnies
Selling Easter Bunnies at the Shopping Center
Last Call for Easter Bunnies
Boxing Up My Bunnies

2011:
The Easter Craft Sale

2012:
I'm Selling Easter Bunnies at the Craft Sale

2013:
Easter Bunnies -- Is This The End of Crafts?
The Easter Craft Sale -- Post-Mortem

2014:
Shell-Shocked -- The Easter Craft Sale

Happy Billionaire Easter

For me, selling Easter bunnies always anticipates the joy of Easter Sunday, but this was an extra special year. Thanks to the billionaire, I sold them all!

As you know by now, I met a man who truly personifies the meaning of the holiday, new life and possibilities, the billionaire. Perhaps he's not the absolute richest man in the world -- that honor would go to someone in oil or defense -- but he's way richer than most. This isn't just funny business, he's literally got billions of dollars, and I know him!

You can't believe how special it was this year, unlike every dreary year in the past, the craft sale ended as soon as it began. The billionaire appeared -- simply appeared, as though brought forth from the light itself -- and bought my whole stock! "Name your price," he said. Now I realize I could've said any number and he would've paid it, but in innocence I said, "Two thousand dollars." Just like that, instead of the usual couple hundred I would've made, and that not all profit, I had $2,000, not to mention the rest of the day off.

Now it's only been a little over a week, but the world has changed so much ... thanks to the billionaire. Where he's not, there are limits. Where he is, those limits are surpassed, to the point that you no longer even consider them. This isn't just some harebrained theory, like the theory of evolution, gravity, or our need for water, this is the central fact of life. The billionaire takes guff from no man; he simply buys them off and watches them dance at his knee. And that's special. With my life now tied in with his, I don't know that there's anything I can't do, high or low. That's what Easter means to me.

Perhaps the craft sale should've gone on a little longer. Let's say I'd sat in the usual doldrums until mid-afternoon. Then perhaps his glorious appearance would've been more revelatory. You know how when you're doing something you absolutely hate? But you have to do it, say, to make a measly couple hundred bucks, not all profit? Because you need that money, because you've got a mouth to feed when you get back home, your own? And if you quit feeding it, eventually it'll be "All Systems Go" for shutting down? That's sort of what happened to my Uncle Clarence... He filled his system with booze and the lady's husband came in and killed him.

So I'm sitting there, and it's high noon, and I'm fanning myself. Customers, customers, everywhere, and not a single one stopping to buy. I'm thinking, 'Life, for everything it's cracked up to be, truly sucks. This is as low as I've ever sunk, wearing my appetites (eating later) on my sleeve in this desperation. Everyone knows what I'm here for, to eat later, excrete waste, and get up and do it all again the next day; don't tell me I don't know what life's all about!' That's when I hear the cry of attendants, "Make way, make way, for the billionaire!"

You think, 'Some crackpot's got a big head!' When in strolls the actual billionaire, relieves me of my burden, granting new life in the form of $2,000, and sets me free. This week -- how can I put it? -- it's been the absolute tops. The billionaire changed my life, and he's truly made me see real life for the first time.

With his billions and my brains, I don't know that there's anything we can't do. Happy Easter, indeed.

The Billionaire Buys My Easter Bunnies

Easter Sunday is coming, the day I celebrate above all others, a great and glorious day, the day I enjoy my profits from selling Easter bunnies at the craft sale. The sale, this past Saturday, was especially great for me this year, giving me a lot to rejoice over, and it's all thanks to the billionaire.

Wow, I'm in awe, to think I met such a rich man -- an actual billionaire -- a guy with more money than I'd ever know what to do with. This isn't going to be the same old Easter now, thanks to him. The wealth that guys has, it boggles the mind. And to think, he's not afraid to get out and spend it, thank God!

It all went down just like I'm saying: I made up 50 new Easter bunnies and with my hold-over stock trudged sullenly to the shopping center, dreading the usual dismal sale. Those bastards, the shopping center management, are always looking for ways to stick it to us. And it was the same this year. They put us in the opposite wing, where the bathroom's three times as far. That's bad for a guy like me, a solo act, meaning I have to leave my stuff at the mercy of criminals and cutthroats to pee. There's enough thieving kids at the shopping center -- wild animals lusting to steal -- that it's tempting to sacrifice your bladder to protect your stock.

I looked up at the crowd gathering at the line in anticipation of the starting pistol. Three old ladies with empty plastic sacks looking for free samples and no pistol. Big encouragement! But thankfully things did pick up, a few stagglers here and there. Being slow isn't terrible; it cuts down on shoplifting, and of course the ever present threat of other backstabbing crafters wanting to get illicit photos of your stuff. It can be a mess except for some downtime.

I also use those opportunities to keep my table tidy. I have an eye for posing the bunnies, positioning them for maximum appeal. Angled out, a few about an inch from the edge of the table. It shows they're eager to go, looking for a good home. I've noticed a lot of ladies, with their mothering instincts, like anything that suggests eagerness. They get that from hungry babies, and even look for it in inanimate objects, especially if they're cute. I've been exploiting their weakness for years, always looking for a way of making these bunnies more babyish, cuter, and eager.

Some of the gals coming through, though, didn't seem to have the mothering instinct, being more concerned about price than what they could do for these little orphans. But I anticipated them, and put prices by the little guys. A strict $5 apiece or 2 for $9, a dollar discount. I hate giving up that dollar, but some of our less instinctual people need the extra push. Cheapskates.

11:30 came and went -- the dog days of any craft sale -- when people are thinking about eating and not as apt to be wanting our junk. You see it on the faces of fellow crafters. The fans come out, they're rolling their eyes, and bitching about the shopping center. Which isn't slow to take our fees but isn't so quick to address our grievances, like why we have to be parked by 8-10 empty stores. It'd make more sense to put us in a couple of the empty stores closer to the main traffic. But hey, that's insider stuff.

Anyway, here's the real news. This guy -- someone recognized him and said he was a billionaire -- came in with his people, and was enthusiastic about what he saw. There was one lady with a clipboard, a guy with a briefcase full of money, and several bodyguards. The billionaire himself, a good looking guy with a friendly face, a little older than me (62), appeared from the middle of the group.

He had a good word and a handshake for everyone, and assured us he wanted to buy everything we had! I didn't know how that'd go, but it was easy. We simply stated our price and the lady with the clipboard wrote it down and the other guy paid us. No haggling, no nothing, although the clipboard lady, obviously, if left to herself, would've been tighter. The billionaire had places to be, money to make.

He came over and was admiring my stock, commenting on how cute the bunnies are, and even engaged me in some shop talk. On my color scheme, why I chose pinkish ears for them. I explained I thought it was a pleasant color for ears, then started into a more indepth explanation on the psychology of appealing both to children and mothering-type women, when he waved me off with a laugh, also shaking my hand boisterously and saying, "All that's inside baseball, over my head; I'm just looking for nice things!" That really did something for my ego, to think I was smarter than a billionaire!

The key thing, beyond the pleasantness of this encounter, was I got an amazing $2,000 for around $400 of inventory. In one swift transaction, no fuss, no muss. And the same thing went for the others. The billionaire didn't care. One of his people also passed out coupons from the downtown coffee shop for free lattes. It was win-win all around.

This was easily the best craft sale I've ever set up for. It made up for a lot of dismal Easter sales out there, that's for sure! Giving me money to burn ... I'll save some of it for my golden years, probably.

The thing now -- which is a discouraging thought -- is what's going to happen next year? Do I make twice as many bunnies, then have the billionaire not show up? But that's next year's worry. This year I'm celebrating big time, with a joy to last me all week, and, I'm hoping, right through Easter Sunday itself ... and beyond! He is Risen! Moolah!
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Previous Easter Bunny Craft Sales:

2010:
Local Man Makes and Sells Easter Bunnies
Selling Easter Bunnies at the Shopping Center
Last Call for Easter Bunnies
Boxing Up My Bunnies

2011:
The Easter Craft Sale

2012:
I'm Selling Easter Bunnies at the Craft Sale

2013:
Easter Bunnies -- Is This The End of Crafts?
The Easter Craft Sale -- Post-Mortem

2014:
Shell-Shocked -- The Easter Craft Sale

Shell-Shocked -- The Easter Craft Sale

It's ironic that, after the Army couldn't save from destruction the shopping center, where we've always had the Easter craft sale, this year we had it at the VFW hall. Of course if you lose the battle you shouldn't reap the spoils, but I'm only one voice.

Right away, I saw this one local character, Terry, a shell-shocked Vietnam vet, handling everyone's stuff roughly. He left some of the ears on my bunnies bent, then was oblivious to it. I was using psych tactics on him, busying myself with unnecessary rearranging when he was around, trying to get him to leave. So he didn't do too much actual damage.

The place was a terrible place for a sale. They have their bar right there in the next room with an open door between us. You get the secondhand smell of drinks and smoke, pretty intense. Terrible. I saw the pool table, untouched, with the casual light above bearing down on it. There was a quarter in one of the corners, like someone called next game, but was then was so shell-shocked he forgot.

In our room, the sale area, there was a similar bad vibe. The walls were lined with huge black and white portraits of past commanders, trim looking old guys, mostly from the Greatest Generation. Then there's a number of more modern pictures, some in fading color from the '60s. The '70s pictures are more casual, showing the breakdown that started after Nam. And I believe Ronald Reagan allowed much more breakdown, then, in the '80s. You see it in the '80s pix, hair over ears, bushier mustaches, and darker glasses, in what might be called the military's Mr. Potato Head years.

None of this was good. Because the whole point of a craft sale is to get women in. And women don't want to come to a revolting man-cave like this. You'd be afraid to bring your kids. They'd catch one glimpse of Terry and swear off war altogether. So the sale sucked.

I had plenty of time to look around. I and some of the other crafters -- we're usually complaining about something -- could do nothing but shake our heads and laugh. Once you see you're not going to make money no matter what, that's when you laugh. It was different at the shopping center; you didn't always make a lot of money, but the potential was there. That's why we were always bitching.

This place, though, with the beer/smoke/old carpet odor, the odd stacks of chairs against the walls, the old nicked-up wooden coat racks, the dim lighting, and those godawful leering pictures, killed us. And the flickering fluorescent lights! They made my bunnies look frail and sickly. And their purple ears don't need help! And the Styrofoam, my God! I was afraid it was softening up, maybe even subtly melting from the alcohol (actual and from guys' breath) in the air. They say Styrofoam lasts forever in the landfill. Maybe all they need is the VFW to go and break it down!

On the positive side -- just to be fair -- the tables were definitely cheaper. Although, to be negative again, if you're not making money, what's the use? I felt like a crafts sadist sitting there. You have to have some traffic, besides these shell-shocked guys bending things and breathing on  you. As I was hauling my unsold bunnies out, I saw Terry one more time: hat on backwards, food on his mustache, saluting the jukebox, in a word, shell-shocked.

So, unfortunately, I ended up with bad results today, no big surprise, I know. At this rate -- money being what it is -- I might be able to afford a medium Easter ham. But that'll be it. No sides, no bread, no glaze on the ham. Just one dry naked bare ham. But, I'm happy ... Keep repeating, I'm happy; better than an empty table.

Never again! Seriously, this is my vow before God and man, and please, someone, mark it down! We will never again have the craft sale at the V-freaking-FW, or I'll know why!

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Previous Easter Bunny Craft Sales:

2010:
Local Man Makes and Sells Easter Bunnies
Selling Easter Bunnies at the Shopping Center
Last Call for Easter Bunnies
Boxing Up My Bunnies

2011:
The Easter Craft Sale

2012:
I'm Selling Easter Bunnies at the Craft Sale

2013:
Easter Bunnies -- Is This The End of Crafts?
The Easter Craft Sale -- Post-Mortem

The Easter Craft Sale -- Post Mortem

I've had a long and hard day, so I'm really not in any mood to make comments about the Easter Craft Sale at the shopping center. But I feel I owe it to everyone to say something, and I'll try to put a good face on it, regardless of how terrible it seemed at the time.

The day started badly. The set-up time is between 7 and 8 a.m. And for some reason my alarm didn't go off, meaning I overslept for the first time in something like 25 years. I'm thinking I subconsciously didn't want to go, and so whatever internal timer mechanism I have tried its best to spare me. Except I did need to go, since I'd already paid the exorbitant $40 fee for my table, up five bucks from last year.

After I did everything I had to do, including loading the bunnies in the car, and going to the bathroom, etc., I headed out to the shopping center, knowing it was going to be rough. Spots for the tables, except for the higher class people, the real long-termers, is first come, first serve. Which ended up meaning precisely how I knew it'd go, the other bastards would grab the best spots, leaving me, the latecomer, the crappiest spot in the world, a few tables past where even the diehard customers are likely to go.

I got a few nasty comments from some of the ones who know me: "Bedhead," "Look what the cat dragged in," "At least you're well-rested," and "Good luck -- You're going to need it." The worst part of the process of getting in was that I needed to make multiple trips past some of these cretins, giving them plenty of opportunities to level their best taunts.

But I finally made it, and got my stuff all set up: A nice blue tablecloth, my signs -- "Lovely to look at, wonderful to hold, but if you pop off an eye or mess up the styrofoam head, we mark it sold.", "Cute, crazy, cuddly," "No photographs or sketches please," and the price card, "$5 apiece, 2 for $9." Now it was just time to settle in for a day of bustling business.

I guess I'm always an optimist, at least going in. Then as the day drags by, I'm nothing but a realist, "I'm sunk, this sucks, I should've stayed in bed..." For customers I had the usual dregs, lots of lookers who can't be bothered to spend a quality minute examining my stuff, kids who have no qualms about bending the pipe cleaners, and preoccupied mothers who foolishly ignore their children's desire for a nice bunny. Then occasionally -- but never often enough -- one will be persuadable, and it's those ones I like. I'm quick to get their cash before they have time to reconsider. They might walk away and the kid immediately breaks the bunny, but no matter ... I just look the other way.

Around noon, I saw some clown with his phone out, snapping pictures of some of the crafts upstream. For which I came prepared. I whipped out two other tablecloths and covered my stuff, then prominently put the "No photographs" sign on top of the whole works. He got down to me and looked a little put out, but I only smiled, knowing I'd scored a major win for our side. Hell man, if you want a picture of a bunny, buy one, then go home and photograph it to your damned heart's content. I don't want my stuff on Pinterest. Knock off someone else's art ... or craft, in this case.

It slowed to a dead crawl around 2 p.m. I was able to get out and talk to some of the other crafters. My day was terrible but they had even more gripes than me. That's one of the great things about craft sales. If you really want to hear complaints, crafters should be your go-to guys. The sale was poorly advertised, the shopping center doesn't respect us, the increased table fee was egregious, and a lot of the browsers are only in the vicinity to use the bathroom; they don't care about us. Plus, we kick around the bad economy and people's decreased disposable income, despite the evidence to the contrary, poor people going by carrying $5 coffee and their grubby little rug-rats eating $4 cotton candy.

I had a few anxieties of my own. One, my sales were worse than previous years. Two, just because I caught that one photographer doesn't mean I didn't miss a few others. A few of these knockoff artists have someone distract you with friendly talk, then they're snapping pictures, only to have the friend drop you like a hot potato when they've got what they want. On that point, I suspect the friendly girl with the deep cleavage who visited with me -- stunning eye contact! -- might have been a photographer's confederate. But she was sweet enough it was almost worth it. And, three, offering a twofer (2 bunnies for $9) about kills my profit margin. I like the come-on aspect of it, I just have to hope not too many customers abuse it.

Oh, I used the word "customers." In crafter language, the word for them is "fresh meat." That's one of the biggest complaints. Listen for it if you get close to a crafter. If they're complaining about "Not enough fresh meat," all it means is they wish we had more customers. If only the stinking shopping center would advertise more!

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Previous Easter Bunny Craft Sales:

2010:
Local Man Makes and Sells Easter Bunnies
Selling Easter Bunnies at the Shopping Center
Last Call for Easter Bunnies
Boxing Up My Bunnies

2011:
The Easter Craft Sale

2012:
I'm Selling Easter Bunnies at the Craft Sale

2013:
Easter Bunnies -- Is This The End of Crafts?

Easter Bunnies -- Is This The End Of Crafts?

Well, I have to confess, I'm not in a very good mood. You can probably guess why: Easter's coming! Meaning, yes, even though Easter is a very joyous holiday, it's also the season for the Easter craft sale at the shopping center. Which once again I'm planning to set up for. Even though at this point I'm more depressed about it than ever.

Still, I keep telling myself, anything I make is more than I have now. But it definitely could be better. It's almost not worth it. And yet ... there I'll be.

When it comes to crafting, I think crafting's in a sad/weird state. It's not the best of times, it's the worst. One, you've got the old-timers, dinosaurs like me, who insist on only the finest craftsmanship, being heavily into the tradition of the thing. Only, we don't get much for it. Then you've got all the young turks, mostly women who are learning their "craft" off the internet -- as I call them, Pinterest copycats, churning out crap and that by imitation.

I'm proud to say I came up with my bunnies on my own. It took a lot of tinkering. But what's that count for these days? That and a quarter and I'm as good as broke. So, in part, I'm going to be there for my fellow old-timers. We have to stick together, even if it's hard; I see a lot of very grim expressions. But the others, the newbies, they've made it a social media thing for themselves, so they're always bubbling over with a silly excitement, la de dah. Crafting fangirls, big fans of each other, and not an original idea in the whole pack!

Even though I'm sticking with it, I have an incredible insight: No one really needs crafts. It's all do-it-yourself now. With the internet -- and the worst scourge, cameras everywhere -- anyone can knockoff your crafts. Like my bunnies. If you have a picture of them, and aren't just going by memory, it's not too tough to see what fits where. Although, insisting on craftsmanship and tradition as I do, of course they aren't going to be near as good. But I'm realistic; we're not making a living at it. Those who try, we have a word for them, the poor.

I mentioned cameras. What a scourge. They're everywhere. I wish it was the 1800's, like with Lincoln, where they had to ignite a living vulture on a pole for the flash and make a 30 second exposure. It wouldn't be hard to catch people taking pictures then! Now they're on the sly. Every phone is a camera. There's probably cameras built into wedding rings. It's a Dick Tracy world, only not as full of promise as we once expected, more a curse.

Really, it's like this: If you want to keep your ideas to yourself, you about have to cover them with a sheet and only offer peeks to people who express a real interest in buying. I think it might be good for them to put down a small deposit -- let's say $25 to $50 -- to take a peek. Then if they buy, they get the deposit back. That'd cut down on the frivolous browsers as well as those with a hidden camera or photographic memory. Or maybe put them to public shame if they didn't buy something, like dunking their head in molasses and spraying sawdust on them, or at the very least putting a big "Kick Me" sign around their neck. That'd cut down on idea-stealing.

On the other hand, if this is the end of crafts, it could be a big year. If people think the end is here, maybe they'll want it to go out with a bang. They might snap up my stuff like collector's items, the last hurrah of a dying era. I'd like to say tradition and craftsmanship wins out, but I don't think it does. Not when you have all these women and the fast thrills of social media, all of them getting together to celebrate one another's supposed cleverness (yeah, we know!), then it no doubt degenerates into touching, heavy breathing, impassioned stripping, and who knows what all, as they writhe in ecstasy on the floor. I hope they choke on it...
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Previous Easter Bunny Craft Sales:

2010:
Local Man Makes and Sells Easter Bunnies
Selling Easter Bunnies at the Shopping Center
Last Call for Easter Bunnies
Boxing Up My Bunnies

2011:
The Easter Craft Sale

2012:
I'm Selling Easter Bunnies at the Craft Sale

Easter Bunny Moves His Schtick To Next Week

This is going to take a lot of kids by surprise, since it will be the first Easter without eggs, but we finally got it taken care of. We've heard the complaints for years about the Easter Bunny screwing with "the true meaning of Easter," by getting it mixed up with candy eggs, and, our personal favorite, solid milk chocolate idols of himself.

Welcome to the first Easter without the Easter Bunny! We got it accomplished, and it wasn't that hard; he's a reasonable guy, and once he heard the issue explained, he was more than willing to compromise. It's kind of odd, I think, but he's operated with a whole different way of thinking. He wasn't even aware of the issue. Somehow he'd never heard the story of Jesus, his death and being raised from the dead.

I know when someone is lying, and the Easter Bunny was really on the level! So I'm busy sketching it out for him, the basic story. Then I'm backing it up a bit and giving him the whole background, just whose death and resurrection he's been messing with. And I could see his furry forehead start to moisten; his agitation was real. He was even afraid, looking up, like he expected a lightning bolt at any moment.

At that point, I had to handle it carefully. Were I to be callous in the face of his extraordinary ignorance, he might completely go over to the dark side and turn Easter into a heretical grudge match. If his soul were to be damned, without grace and hope, then why not! I comforted him, letting him know the purpose of the Lord's work, that he might be forgiven and have new life.

What an important discovery! "All these years I always sensed there was something else going on, but what? Who do you ask? I just figured, everyone seems fairly cool, so I kept doing my thing. Now, though, looking back, I was blind, but now I see!"

I helped him along, as he saw his quandary. He doesn't want to screw with religion, but what about the kids? They love him! "When could I share my eggs and candy?" he asked. We looked at the calendar and I said, "What about next week?" There's nothing next week. Jesus gets raised today, and by tomorrow it's all over. Next week is nothing. "Do it next week! Then we'll have two special days!"

So from now on, that's what's going to happen. Easter will be reserved for spiritual meditation and whatever. But the Sunday after will be given over to the fun and excitement of the Easter Bunny bringing all the tasty treats we've forever known and enjoyed!

But he wondered again about the kids, really, how would they take it?

I explained that, yes, it's going to come as a shock today, but I don't think they'll be too disappointed. It's just one more week, and it'll give them something to look forward to, a whole Sunday for eating candy and getting sick! The anticipation will be fun in its own way, as they count down the days. Then it's here!

"Yes!" the Easter Bunny said, doing a happy dance to match his spirit. "They can get the resurrection of the Lord out of the way today, then they'll have the whole week to look forward to the goodies I'll bring! They'll like that very much!"