Down the Wabbit Hole

Easter isn’t easily understood by most casual church goers. They question the décor and rituals. The painting of eggs, the hunting of eggs, the obsession with eggs. Wondering aloud from their back pew why all the rabbit is involved at all. Which came first, the crucifixion or the egg?

At one time in his life, Elmer Fudd had a purpose beyond the Easter bunny. He was a hunter, he had a few friends at the VFW hall. While he spoke with a slight lisp, which old timers would ridicule him mericlessly for, there was still some comfort in their thoughtless barbs. The fact that his parents couldn’t afford speech therapy did nothing to lessen the barrage of hurtful comments. 

After a few pints with the boys, Fudd would wander into the forest, looking for his furry nemesis. Upon finding his hole, he decided to go inside instead. He’d spent much of his life waiting for the rabbit to appear. Going down the rabbit hole was an unexpected life changing event. He gained a new perspective, especially on things like dirt, rock, and worms. He started to appreciate roots and sediment, two things he had dismissed in the past as pointless obstacles to smooth ground. 

Once underground, Fudd began to see the whole world differently. He wasn’t interested in the machinations of the messiah any longer. He wanted to dig deeper, see if there were any arrowheads embedded in the earth’s crust. He yearned for a fossil, proof that his rabbitless journey was not without a cool souvenir to show friends. The lower he got the more confusing things became. He found a small studio apartment hundreds of feet below the forest floor. He saw dozens of silk robes all stenciled with the initials “B.B.” And he found a computer. 

He scrolled and scrolled, skipping between video commentaries and forum diatribes. He learned the truth this way. Things finally made sense. He never questioned why this one rabbit he’d spent years trying to kill could A) never die and B) spoke better English than he did. Nothing added up. What was he hunting anyway? Besides a being smarter, wiser and wittier than he could ever be. He had forgotten about his initial confusion surrounding Easter and what the pointlessness of decorating eggs. He saw the global masters controlling his future and past. It was as if he couldn’t escape a world animated by someone other force. He’d reach the end of a frame, believing he could dig no more and then, miraculously, there would be a little more dirt to scoop. The conspiracy unraveled as he descended to the planet’s core.

When he tried to get out of the hole, he couldn’t. There were no stairs or ladder. He had no sense of direction and it was so very dark. So he decided to stay there, which wasn’t so bad, since the rabbit had paid for a good Internet connection. He could peruse cyberspace at his leisure. He couldn’t leave a single stone unturned, which of course led to many insects replying to his actions.   

After what he learned, how could he go back hunting again? How could he wear such a ridiculous hat with the knowledge of Holden Caufield’s awful fashion sense. Plus, he’s a vegan now, forgoing his famous rabbit stew for carrot pasta. When would he return? It was hard to say. Getting out would be more than a miracle, it’d be a revelation. But getting a rise out of him after learning so much wasn’t too difficult. So he stopped talking to himself, knowing the government was listening in, even this far down. He had to be very, very quiet. That and remember to delete his Internet history.