Bunny: (n) a rabbit, especially a young one.
It seemed completely implausible.
It was given to me as my Easter present when I was ten years old.
I had an immediate dilemma. I would have no problem eating all forty-eight in one sitting, even though I wouldn’t have been able to rise. But I wanted to pretend I was making them last.
Also, I had one little quirk when it came to chocolate-covered bunnies. I don’t like them soft and mushy, but just a little bit chewy–so you have to bite on them and pull a bit before the head separates from the torso. To achieve this, the bunnies must be willing to sit around, uneaten, for several days.
I took the box and hid it in my closet underneath some books. My thought was that needing to remove the books to get to the bunnies might prevent me from gorging.
The theory was incorrect. Turns out I was more than happy to remove some volumes to get to the treasure.
So by the time my bunnies reached their perfect texture, I only had two left.
That was on Monday afternoon. That would have been one day after Easter.
So the next year I asked my parents to buy my box of bunnies a week early before presenting them to me. For some reason they took offence to this.
I got no box of bunnies that year.
What I received was a seven-inch-tall rabbit, which was supposed to be solid chocolate, and ended up being full of air.
Thus the promises of life.