Shane, The White Trash Easter Bunny

"Daddy, where does the Easter Bunny come from?" My daughter asked me and my wife.

Hmmm, another parenting quandary. She has gotten very inquisitive lately. What is death, where do babies come from, and now where does the Easter Bunny come from. I have done my best to answer these questions without cutting the heads off any more bunnies (see earlier post, I'm not a monster.) But how to answer this one. After all, this is a big one. Here we have to weigh the knowledge of the spiritual and religious. Do I tell her some people's belief in the resurrection and then contrast that with the fertility of the Mother Earth religions? Stigmata vs. Fertility? The question leads into a whole other series of questions that she'll ask and I will discuss with her. In fact, we should probably go sit down for this one, grab alot of resource books and get to it.

"He comes from the dryer honey." My wife says.

"Really?" Little Hoss replies.

"Yup" Hossmom confirms.

I look at my wife. I look like a donkey trying to understand algebra.

"What?" I gently ask.

"The dryer. Santa Claus comes down the chimney and the Easter Bunny comes from the dryer." Hossmom explains. "It's what my mom told us while we were growing up."

Ok, now it makes sense.

But just so I'm straight, so we don't confuse our lies here about Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny lives in our dryer like it's his own personal double wide? And once a year he takes a break from his meth lab bathtub and delivers eggs and candy to good little boys and girls. I just want to be clear. I just to make sure that Shane, the white trash Easter Bunny, jumps his little tramp stamped white butt out of the dryer to do this one good deed.

And the rest of the year, our bunny Shane, just lives in our dryer watching the weather channel for the next tornado? That would explain several things like why our socks go missing and the addition of plastic pink flamingo's on top of the washer.

There's also a broken down yard chair up there, one of the old weird fabric ones, that has a half busted seat. Next to it is an empty bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 and there have been a large quantity of Pal Mall cigarette butts jammed in the lint filter.

So yeah, that all makes sense. It would also explain some of the weird noises that I hear in the middle of the night. Honestly, I thought we might be haunted or something. I was starting to become concerned and was looking at buying holy water in bulk. But I don't need to worry now, now I know what is going on. It's just Shane and his beotch having it out again. She burnt his grilled cheese and ya know, he's got to take care of business. So he puts on his little Easter Bunny wife beater shirt and goes at her. But his women ain't no cupcake. She's a tough little cuss and so she grabs the frying pan. Pretty soon, Shane is missing one of his front teeth and the cops are knocking on my door.

It's good to know that I have house guests as well, I'll have to adjust my shopping. Usually I just buy stuff for 2 adults and 2 kids. But this changes everything. After all, what's Shane going to eat, laundry detergent? So tomorrow I'll make sure I grab a case of Mountain Dew and some Cheetohs. Maybe I'll pick up the weekly Auto Trader guide to and pass it off to him so he can see if they printed his ad right for a 1972 El Camino that he's trying to unload. It's missing some tires and the front seat has cigarette burns in them but he's hoping it will fetch enough so that he can buy that Astroturf for the front of the dryer that he's had his eye on.

One day my daughter will ask about the Tooth Fairy and where he comes from. I'm thinking that we'll call him Earl and he lives in the toilet.


  1. You have a smart wife.

  2. Don't you love it when you overthink these quandries of little life.