This fucker wasn’t easy.
When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. When life hands you fifty pounds of fireworks, 320 carrots and more chocolate than Augustus Gloop could handle, you do the only sensible thing and kill that hopping rabbit motherfucker.
About all these supplies – let’s just say WUnderground spent a night on the town back in January looking for some Hunter S. Thompson-esque inspiration and woke up the next day in a motel off Interstate 55 with no recollection of the previous night and all the aforementioned items sprawled about the room: the carrots in brown knapsacks at the foot of the bed, the chocolate in the bathtub and the fireworks in two wooden crates labeled “Fun” by the door.
After some brain-storming, we interpreted these items as a sign from God that he wanted the Easter Bunny dead. Here’s how we did it.
Step 1
Wait for Easter. This part was pretty boring. El Chapo went to jail though, which was kinda interesting.
Step 2
Camp out at Mikki’s four-year-old cousin Ellen’s house. We actually had a great time here. Mikki’s aunt and uncle were super nice. There were 10 of us, and they bought us pizza, lent us a few sleeping bags and even put on Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Ellen was cute as fuck too. Great kid. She did this thing where we’d tell her to say a word and she’d say it back but without any r’s. So “Soccer” was “socca” and “Murder” was “mudda” haha. Everyone was sad when she had to go to bed.
Step 3
Surround the house with booby traps. Hannah had the great idea of digging pits with knives at the bottom of them and using the chocolate and carrots as bait. Mr. and Mrs. Janower (what a pair) were kind enough to lend us some of their killing knives. We also had fireworks aimed in every direction and triggers planted left and right. I want to say thanks to our president, Max Lichtenstein, and his Eagle Scout skills for showing us how to set all these traps up. We were mere paintbrushes and you were Michaelangelo.
Step 4
Sing Christmas Carols in a well-lit area. These Christian holiday mascots hate each other’s fucking guts, so our carols got Mr. Bunny real mad. Honestly, he had no chance. The second his feet flopped onto the lawn all those traps went off and he just got hammered with a light show. It was quite beautiful, honestly: all those greens, blues and reds flashing over the Easter Bunny’s convulsing body. Imagine all of us standing there, arms around each other’s shoulders, looking like we’re the Brady Bunch or something.
What’s next? We can’t say. Halloween is coming up and Lila says her mom has a solid pumpkin pie recipe. So, Great Pumpkin – if you’re real, watch out.