An Easter Story Part II...

Part I can be found here. http://mindlessdiversions.blogspot.com/2008/03/easter-story.html

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The soft, yellowish glow from the open refrigerator door illuminated the half chewed carrots pooled around his feet. I choked back a generous amount of bile as I desperately fought the urge to get sick. The confidence I felt only moments ago was quickly fading, replaced once again with feeling of absolute dread. The gun in my hand wavered, and was feeling increasingly heavy.

"Put that thing down before you hurt yourself". Small pieces of the carrot he was chewing flew from his mouth as his raspy voice issued its warning. Complying, I slowly lowered the gun to my side, still unable to speak. He took a step closer and his full seven foot tall frame came into the light. His twisted snout was curled into a cruel grin, his long whiskers quivering. I shrank back instinctively. "What's the matter....don't you recognize your old friend?" He took another slow step towards me. "Why don't you sit down. We have some things to discuss".

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I watched as he hopped over to the dining room table, receding into the darkness. I gave my head a quick shake, still not fully comprehending what I was seeing, carefully stepped over the pile of half chewed carrots, and followed him into the darkness, gun tucked safely back into my waistband. His large size dwarfed the dining room chair in which he was perched, making it appear comically undersized in comparison. I took a seat across from him and watched as he produced a large, perfectly rolled joint from behind one elongated, furry ear. He lit it, took a long, slow pull and then asked "You mind if I smoke this?"

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I didn't answer, and he continued to draw on it, never offering it to me. We sat in silence, eyes fixed on each other, as he finished his joint and slowly crushed it out on the shiny, unblemished oak table top. The time for my silence was up. "How did you get in here?"

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He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly in amusement. "Are you joking? I'm the fucking Easter Bunny, you asshole. You know, hiding chocolate eggs in people's houses and all that shit?" He waved his furry paws in my face as if to emphasize this point. "It's what I do. Getting in here was the easiest part of the last few years. Finding your sorry ass....that was considerably more difficult. A fact that has made me one pissed off rabbit, let me tell you. So why don't we skip the part where we reminisce about old times and get to the fucking point?".

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I responded through clenched teeth. "I told Kringle I was finished. End of story. You may as well just go back and tell him so, because I'm not going back there"

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His deep, baritone laugh echoed maniacally throughout my empty apartment. "That's some funny shit. If I didn't know better, I would think you were the April Fool instead of some overgrown cherub with a clutch full of arrows..."

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"Now wait just a goddamn..."

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"NO, YOU WAIT JUST A GODDAMN MINUTE. JUST BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO ACCEPT YOUR LOT IN LIFE, DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE IN THE MATTER. What's wrong? You pissed off because you represent a fucking Hallmark holiday? Sick of helping other people find true love, while you go home to an empty house every night? WELL GROW THE FUCK UP! Look at me. I'm a goddamn seven foot tall rabbit that hides chocolate eggs in people's houses while they're asleep. What in the everloving fuck does that have to do with the resurrection? But does it bother me? Fuck no. I do my job, just like you're supposed to do your fucking job. Goddammit, now you've got my fur all ruffled." He produced another perfectly rolled joint, lit it, and inhaled deeply. "I should just eat you right now. Fuck what Kringle says"

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"Then why don't you just do it already? I don't have any reason to live anyway." I hung my head in defeat.

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"Well aren't you a sad sack of shit. Where's what's her name? You know, the entire reason you felt the need to throw off your responsibility and go into hiding without a fucking word."

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, moistening the cracked lines forming there. " She left me when she realized I couldn't give her a child"

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Once again, his deep, baritone laugh filled the apartment. And once again, I clenched my teeth. "That is abso-fucking-lutely hilarious. The great and wonderful cupid can find true love for anyone but himself? That, my friend, is irony."

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His cold, dark laugh continued to ring out, filling my fragile head to its limit. He was so preoccupied with his own twisted sense of humor, he didn't realize I had the gun trained back on his head. I cocked it, and fired, abruptly halting the laughter issuing from his hideous snout. His head snapped back with the full force that only a gunshot can deliver. I sat and waited, watching the thin thread of smoke trail lazily out of the hot barrel.

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Suddenly, his head snapped back to attention, exactly as it had before, except with a quarter sized hole now appearing directly between his eyes. The fur around his eyes was bloody, and matted. I knew the gunshot wouldn't have any effect on him, but I shot anyway.

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"JESUS FUCK! WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO ACCOMPLISH? Beyond getting blood all over my fur? Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to get blood out of fur? Fucking hell."

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"I wanted you to stop laughing. You stopped, so I guess I accomplished exactly what I set out to do."

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"I'm a seven foot tall rabbit, and you're the crazy one. Jesus Christ." He wiped some of the blood out of his eyes, stood to his full height, and towered over me. It didn't seem possible, but his voice deepened by several octaves as he spoke. "Now if you're quite finished, we need to leave now. It's Easter tomorrow, and I've got a busy day ahead of me. So quit fucking around, or I'm going to have to get rough. I can't kill you, but I can sure as hell torture you for awhile before I hand you over to Kringle. So choose. What's it going to be?"

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I sighed in resignation and lowered my head again. "Just let me get my arrows"

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"See...its not so hard to accept your lot in life. You don't have to like it, just fucking do it."

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"I'll be right back". I left him in the half light of the dining room, and returned to my chambers. Far back in the closet, below a hidden trapdoor, were my arrows. I didn't think I would ever have to look at them again, but here we are. Doomed forever to dispense happiness and love, while I suffer alone. That is more torture than Kringle or any of his cronies could ever dish out. I pulled a filterless cigarette out of the, now almost empty pack, and lit it, savoring the harsh, acrid smoke one last time. The clutch of arrows slung over my shoulder, I rose and walked back into the hall. The Easter Bunny was waiting for me.

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"Ready to go? Kringle let me borrow his sleigh, so we'll be riding in style......"

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He trailed off as I slowly lifted the still warm gun to my own head.

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"Now what in the hell are you going to do with that? You can't fucking die you idiot. You're Cupid. Just hurry up and get it over with then. And don't splash any of your fucking blood on my fur".

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A tight smile crept over my face. "There's something you don't know."

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"Oh? And what might that be? You have magical holiday killing bullets in there? I know that's bullshit because you already shot me with that hunk of metal, and oh good golly, I'm still fucking here. So tell me another one".

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"A holiday can't conceive a child with a mortal." He rolled his eyes at me, but I continued. "So I did what I had to do to make her happy. I cut off my wings." His eyes widened with slow realization. "But once I became mortal, we discovered that I was sterile, and wouldn't be able to give her a child anyway. How fucked up is that. A child is the most true expression of love that two people can share, and I, Cupid, am incapable of it. Now tell me why I should go back." I cocked the gun still pointed at my temple.

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"......you cut off your wings.....you don't realize what you've done. Imagine a world without love. Don't you realize how important you are?"

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"Fucking replace me then"

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He lunged for me, but I was faster. The loud crack of the gunshot barely registered in my ear before everything went blissfully black.

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The End

An Easter Story...

I awoke with a start, feeling a solitary bead of sweat trickle slowly along the bridge of my nose. It seemed to hang, in midair, for a fraction of a second, before plummeting to the surface of my red silk sheets. The days that I woke in this fashion were becoming more and more frequent, to my ever growing alarm. What does a man have to do, in order to avoid sleepless nights filled with cold sweats and feelings of quiet dread? I groped blindly in the dark for the half empty pack of filterless cigarettes perched upon the nightstand, and slipped one between my lips. It sat there for what felt like minutes but was more likely a few fleeting seconds, before I worked up the nerve to hold flame to tip. Immediately, a racking coughing fit shook my frame and I had to brace myself to halt the inevitable fall to the floor. A couple more soft pulls on the burning death stick and I was ready to move.

As I hoisted myself off of my sweat damp sheets, my legs shook with anticipation. Cigarette firmly clamped between my teeth, I made the final push to stand, and stood, quietly shivering and sweating at the same time. With little thought, the cigarette dropped from my mouth, and I stubbed it out with one bare foot, slowly grinding it into the shag carpet. I need to redecorate anyway.

A silvery beam of moonlight twisted its way into my bedroom, through a ragged hole in the blinds. I walked over and quietly parted the blinds with two fingers. The moonlight illuminated my eyes, causing me to squint, exposing an alarming number of wrinkles that weren't there only 5 years ago. The promise of soft, pink glow emanating from beyond the horizon of cold steel and concrete told me that it was about 4 am. Another fit of coughs racked my body, obliterating the quiet solitude of my apartment. Two days removed from my fortieth year on this earth, so why did it feel closer to sixty? Jesus Christ I need a drink.

Spots danced inside my field of vision as I backed away from the window, the moonlight still leaving its distinct impression. My head was starting its eventual daily ritual of slow, soft throbbing. The throbbing was almost a pleasure compared to the pounding that would more than likely follow. A new day, a new hangover. I lowered myself carefully back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, trying hard not to notice the way my knees were shaking at the effort. As I placed my unshaven face into my hands, a familiar smell crept into my nostrils. I could feel my throat growing dryer and more parched as the smell of her perfume completely invaded my senses. It had been months since she said goodbye for the last time, but still, her presence invaded every corner of my waking thoughts. I absent mindedly lit another cigarette, in a subconscious attempt to choke out the smell of her that seemed to cling onto anything and everything that she had ever come into contact with. Anybody else venturing into this room would never smell the faint odor of months removed perfume, but I had a feeling I would be smelling it for the rest of my days. Part of the penance for what I did, I suppose.

The sweet smoke curling its way down my throat did nothing to quench the sandy, gritty feeling that resided there, so I reached for the half empty glass sitting on the nightstand. The ice had long since melted, but the 30 year old scotch still held an intoxicating aroma. I fished the soggy, yellow cigarette butt out of the bottom of the glass and tossed it onto the floor. I raised the glass to my lips, and sighed in anticipation. As the warm liquid splashed across my lips, I heard the distinctive squeak of a loose floorboard, coming from the hall. The squeak ended as abruptly as it started, and was met with stark silence. The cold sweats were again starting to form at my brow and the base of my naked torso. Ever so slowly I set the half empty glass back home on the nightstand and stood, wincing at every creak and crack in my joints, imagining them as loud as hollow gunshots.

I stepped carefully around several floorboards that would have emitted their own telltale moan, had I not avoided them, and approached my bedroom closet. The door was slightly ajar, meaning I wouldn't have to cause any inconvenient sounds, as I reached up onto the top shelf. My hand closed silently on the cold, steel grip of my familiar friend, and I quickly tucked it into the elastic waistband of my pajama bottoms. Confidence quickly replaced the fuzzy, thick feeling in my forehead as I eased the bedroom door open and made my way into the hallway.

Again, avoiding key floorboards, I made my way down the hall, a slightly nauseating crunching noise getting louder and more noticeable, the closer I made it to the kitchen. As the faint glow of light from the next room invaded the darkened hallway and washed over my grizzled face, I removed my pistol from the waistband, and deftly thumbed the safety off. A bead of sweat rolled down my naked back, I lifted the weapon into a comfortable firing stance, and closed the distance to the kitchen. As I entered the room I realized that the soft glow was coming from the open refrigerator door, partially blocked by a hulking, looming figure. I stepped back in shock and lifted the gun a foot higher. My grip on the pistol slackened, as the only thought running through my head was "How did the son of a bitch find me?"..................