This file was submitted by Lanette Curington.

 INTERVIEW WITH THE EASTER BUNNY
 
         ======================================
 
 With the possible exception of Santa Claus
himself, there is not a
 busier mammal on the face of the earth than the
Easter Bunny. Once a
 year, the Easter Bunny hops into the home of
hundreds of millions of
 boys and girls all over the globe, dropping off
chocolates, candy and
 eggs as part of the celebration of Easter. America
Online spent a few
 minutes with the Easter Bunny as he was preparing
for this year's
 task, for a tell-all, no-holds-barred interview.
If you thought you
 knew the Easter Bunny, you just may be surprised.
 America Online: Thanks for talking to us.
 
 Easter Bunny: No problem. Do you mind if I eat
while we talk? (takes
 out a packet of small green pellets) I've been in
a rush recently.
 
 AOL: Go right ahead. We've got a list of questions
here, compiled from
 our members, and I'll just go down the list if you
don't mind.
 
 EB:  Ready when you are.
 
 AOL: The first question comes from Ted, in Dayton,
Ohio. He writes:
"We all know that Santa's Workshop is located at
the North Pole. Does
the Easter Bunny have a workshop, and if so, where
is it located?"
 
 EB:  Well, Ted, the answer is yes, I do have a
workshop. It's
 located in San Bernardino, California.
 
 AOL: San Bernardino?
 
 EB:  That's right.
 
 AOL: You have to understand that most people would
have figured some
 place like Easter Island.
 
 EB:  Have you *been* to Easter Island? What a
rock! It's the single
 most isolated piece of land on the planet. By the
time we shipped
 fresh eggs there, we'd have chickens. Besides, San
Bernardino has the
 sort of motivated labor pool we need.
 
 AOL: Elves?
 
 EB:  Laid-off aerospace workers.

 AOL: They would seem to be a little overqualified.
 
 EB:  Maybe. But now we have some lovely chocolate
stealth bombers.
 
 AOL: Our next question comes from Cindy, in Tempe.
She writes: "Why is
 the Easter Bunny a bunny? Why couldn't it have
been the Easter Kitty,
 or the Easter Puppy?"
 
 EB:  That's a very good question. In fact, in the
late 70s, we as an
 organization decided to play around with the whole
"bunny" thing by
 recruiting prominent local animals to deliver
Easter baskets. In 1978,
 when the experiment was at its height, we had an
Easter Bunny, an
 Easter Coyote, an Easter Manatee and an Easter
Komodo Dragon.
 
 AOL: What happened?
 
 EB:  It just didn't work out. The Komodo dragon
ate the eggs, the
 coyote just flaked out, and the manatee, if I may
say so, was just
 about as dumb as a stick. There were some other
problems with the
 program, too. The less we talk about the whole
Easter Man-Eating
 Bengali Swamp Tiger episode, the better. Now we
stick with bunnies. We
 know bunnies. We can work with bunnies. Bunnies
don't eat anyone.
 
 AOL: Bob in Honolulu asks: "Is there is just one
Easter Bunny?
 Moreover, has the same Easter Bunny been the
Easter Bunny for the last
 couple of millennia?"
 
 EB:  The fact of the matter is that there are
quite a few Easter
 Bunnies, and we've never made a secret about that.
Unlike the Santa
 Claus operation, which works under the improbable
assumption that one
 guy delivers all those presents -
 
 AOL: Are you saying that Santa is a sham?
 
 EB:  I didn't say that. I never said that. What I
am saying is that
 *we* don't work under the same sort of
constraints. I mean, think
 about it. One bunny delivering baskets to several
hundred million
 homes across the planet? The friction from the
atmosphere alone would
 turn the poor guy into a bunny briquette. There'd
be hideous charcoal
 smudges all over the baskets. "Easter Bunny" is a
job description, not
a proper name. It's like "Postal Carrier," except
our employees very
 rarely become disgruntled.
 
 AOL: So why are you THE Easter Bunny?
 
 EB:  Because I'm boss. You're not an Easter Bunny
until I say you are.
 
 AOL: How does one become an Easter Bunny?

 EB:  Well, it's not just hopping down the bunny
trail, I'll tell
 you. First, for reasons already explained, you
have to be a bunny.
 After that, we have a psychological evaluation and
a battery of
 physical tests you have to pass. We can't afford
to have an Easter
 Bunny cramp up at the beginning of his run.
 
 AOL: Any famous rabbits turned down for the job?
 
 EB:  I don't want to name names. But one bunny
who's making a living
 in the breakfast cereal industry, we had to let
go. Any time a child
 would try to get an Easter basket from him, he'd
back away and start
 snarling. He was a silly rabbit. Easter baskets
are for kids.
 
AOL: He seems to have gotten better since then.
 
 EB:  Prozac helps.
 
 AOL: Albert from Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, wants to
know what are the
 occupational hazards of being the Easter Bunny.
 
 EB:  There are several. Large dogs are always a
problem, of course:
 one moment you're delivering a basket of goodies,
the next, a
 Rottweiler named Pinochet is on you like a
meat-filled sock. Nervous
 homeowners with guns wing a couple of bunnies a
year, as do edgy cops
 and private security guards. We don't even bother
trying to deliver to
 the children of militia members anymore; first
they'll plug you for
 being on their land, then they'll make you into
jerky and a pair of
 gloves. But you know what our number one problem
is?
 
 AOL: What?
 
 EB:  Sliding glass doors. Sometimes we'll just
forget they're there.
 Man, that's embarrassing.
 
 AOL: Here's an interesting question, from Amy, in
New York City. She
 writes: "How does the Easter Bunny get along with
Santa Claus? It
 seems like Santa gets all the attention." And I
have to say, I did
 notice some tension earlier, when you brought him
up.
 
 EB   (Looking uncomfortable): Well, you know,
look. I don't want to
 say anything bad about the guy. He does what he
does, and I do what I
 do. Professionally, we get along fine.
 
 AOL: But privately?
 
 EB:  Is that tape recorder turned off?
 
 AOL: Uh.....sure.
 
EB:  He's a big ol' pain in this bunny's bottom.
For one thing, he's a
 prima donna: always me, me, me, where's my
highball, where's my corned
 beef sandwich, tell this dumb bunny to get his own
dressing room. I'd
 rather be trapped in a sack with Joan Crawford.
For another, he's
totally paranoid of other large men. He thinks
that Luciano Pavarotti
 is trying to move into his territory. Last year it
was John Goodman.
 He actually danced when Orson Welles kicked,
waving his pistol and
 bellowing "Rosebud!" from the top of his lungs.
 
 AOL: Wow. He seems a little scary.
 
 EB:  You think? And yet he gets all the publicity.
Why? We do the same
 job. Mine's actually tougher, since I'm moving
perishable stuff. You
 can't have bad eggs or stale chocolate, you know.
Folks wouldn't
 stand for it. I have to maintain strict quality
control. The only food
 product he has to worry about is fruitcake. You
could tile the Space
 Shuttle with fruitcake.
 
 AOL: We're sure you have your own fans.
 
 EB:  It's like opening for the Beatles, is all.
And he *is* the
 walrus, if you know what I mean.
 
 AOL: One final question, from Pat, in Rockford,
Illinois; "Does the
 Easter Bunny actually lay eggs? How does that
happen, since the Easter
 Bunny is both male and a mammal?"
 
 EB:  Well, platypuses are mammals, and they lay
eggs. So it's not
 impossible.
 
 AOL: That still leaves the male part.
 
 EB:  We're quibbling on details, here.
 
 AOL: Maybe there should be an Easter Platypus.
 
 EB:  Sorry. We tried that in '78.

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