I wrote a story*, and 3 pieces of art to go with it! -Drew oc, -Used Pallet -Drew random rabbit with hat *write, meaning slaved over a Google doc for an hour, accidentally deleting it, and rewriting the whole thing until I realized that I had already ctrl ed my original version and didn’t have to rewrite it
Max White didn’t volunteer to be the Easter Bunny. He was “voluntold.” “You could’ve said no,” His friend Jordan said, watching him struggle into the oversized costume behind the community center. “To my mom?” Max’s voice came out muffled inside the giant bunny head. “That’s not how that works.” His mom ran the entire event, and when the original Easter Bunny canceled, Max became the replacement—not because he wanted to, but because he was there. And apparently “the right height.” At first, it wasn’t terrible. Max stood near the park entrance, waving as families walked in. Younger kids approached carefully, and he handed out candy eggs while trying not to trip. One little kid smiled up at him like he was real. Max relaxed. Maybe this would be easy. Then the questions started. “Where do you live?” “Are you magic?” “How do you make the eggs?” Max nodded vaguely. “I’m… seasonal.” A few older kids nearby exchanged looks. “That’s just a guy,” one of them said. Max froze as they stepped closer. “Prove it,” another said. Max hesitated. “How?” “Hop.” Max glanced around. People were watching now—parents, kids, even his mom across the field. If he refused, it would look weird. If he agreed… also weird. He bent his knees and did a small hop. “Again.” He hopped higher. Now kids were laughing. More were gathering. “Again!” Within seconds, it turned into a performance. “BUN-NY! BUN-NY! BUN-NY!” Max tried to slow down, but it was too late. The costume was getting hotter, his vision was terrible, and now a crowd was following him across the grass. He spotted Jordan in the distance, laughing and doing absolutely nothing to help. Max turned, trying to head back toward the table—and tripped. His foot caught on a basket, and he went straight into the display of plastic eggs. The table tipped. Eggs exploded everywhere. Candy scattered across the field. There was a split second of silence—then total chaos. Kids rushed forward, grabbing candy, laughing as the organized hunt instantly turned into a free-for-all. Max pushed himself up, dizzy, trying to fix the oversized bunny head—when someone grabbed one of the floppy ears. “Hey—wait—” Another kid grabbed the other side. “Is it real?” someone shouted. “No, it’s a mask!” another yelled. Max reached up too late. The head popped off. For a second, everything froze. A bunch of six-year-olds stared at him. One pointed. “IT’S JUST A GUY!” That’s when it got worse. A couple of eighth graders nearby—who had clearly been bored until now—started laughing. “Yo, it’s Max!” one of them called out. “The Easter Bunny is a fraud!” That was all it took. The little kids didn’t care about fraud. They cared that the Easter Bunny was now just a regular kid in a sweaty T-shirt, and suddenly that made him way more interesting. They swarmed him. “Why were you lying?” “Where’s the real bunny?” “Can I try the head?” Max tried to back up—bad idea. More kids joined in, grabbing at the costume, asking questions, laughing. Someone tried to put the bunny head back on him sideways. One of the eighth graders started narrating like it was a sports event. “And the Bunny has lost the mask, folks—this is a shocking turn of events—” Max spun in a slow circle, completely surrounded. “Jordan!” he called. Jordan doubled over laughing. “You’re on your own!” Eventually, Max’s mom pushed through the crowd. “Okay, okay—give him some space!” The kids slowly backed off, still whispering and giggling. Max stood there, holding the bunny head under one arm, hair a mess, completely exposed. He waited for his mom to be mad. Instead, she looked at him… and laughed. “I think,” she said, “you just gave them something to talk about for the rest of the year.” Max looked out at the field—kids still running around, candy everywhere, a few pointing at him and laughing. One of the eighth graders gave him a thumbs-up. “Best Easter ever, dude.” Max sighed. “Next year, I’m hiding.” Jordan grinned. “Too late. You’re the official bunny now.” Max looked down at the costume, then at the crowd. “…I’m at least getting a better head.”
