The Easter Bunny Brunch Hunt 2021

The Easter Bunny Brunch Hunt 2021

Gil Michaels

For Christians, the Lenten season of asceticism honors the mythical Jesus and his great sacrifice. For me, it means trying to avoid another surreal visit from the Easter Bunny, who drops in suddenly, usually when I’m sitting outside reading.

Last year, he showed up in full COVID regalia, sporting a bright, yellow haz-mat suit and yellow mask. He gave away baskets filled with toilet paper rolls and hand disinfectant in lieu of Easter eggs. The previous year, he arrived in a boisterous mood, singing Easter tunes and telling awful Bunny Punnies like, “Where does the Easter Bunny travel from? The Hare Port!”

This year, I was sure I could give him the slip by reading in a spot outside Alameda — the pedestrian area on the Oakland side of the High Street Bridge. As insurance, I brought a freon boat horn, figuring that if I heard E.B. approaching, I could toot the horn and raise the drawbridge.

As I sat reading The Rise And Fall of Adolf Hitler, a chilling story reminiscent of the activities of the 45h president, I heard the unmistakable, incredibly high-pitched and loud Betty Boop voice of E.B. in the distance, singing the old 1950s tune “At The Hop.”

In a panic, I reached for the horn and gave the drawbridge signal. I waited for the traffic alert bells to sound. Nothing happened. (I was giving the wrong signal.)

In a flash E.B. and his entourage — a very lifelike holographic image of the late, great TV chef Julia Child, and an equally stunning hologram of a short millennial guy dressed in a green beret, red turtleneck, yellow Bermuda shorts and thongs — were upon me. All three were quite colorful and talking and singing at the same time.

Julia Child’s hologram kept repeating “It behooves us to treat eggs correctly,” in her clipped European accent.

I was bewildered by the cacophony, and asked E.B. to quit singing that annoying song. As Julia Child repeated “It behooves us to treat eggs correctly,” the millennial hologram bellowed. “For you, my friend, I have the greatest opportunity in late-stage capitalism. Just a $300,000 investment buys you a 5% share in brunch-hunt, the Easter Bunny’s Easter egg hunt for adults.”

“It behooves us to treat eggs correctly,” droned Julia, for the tenth time.

The sales-pitch continued.

“Imagine, while the kids are hunting Easter eggs, mom and pop can brunch-hunt, and track down fully prepared and packaged gourmet breakfasts, created from the wonderful recipes of great French chef Julia Child! While the kids are munching chocolate eggs, you can dine on eggs Benedict, juevos ranchero, Denver omelettes, eggs Florentine, fabulous quiches and more! We’re projected to sell 10
million brunch-hunt meals this Easter! So who wants to hop down to the bank with me, and deposit big bucks? Let’s go Brunch hunt!”

“It behooves us to treat eggs correctly,” said Julia.

“For you, my friend…”

As the sales pitch repeated, I yelled at E.B. “Why do they keep repeating? Turn them off!”

“I can’t,” he squeaked. “The app crashed and my phone locked up!”

“It behooves us to treat eggs correctly,” chanted Julia for the 50th time. Just as the sales pitch started again, E.B. squealed in desperation and tossed the phone into the estuary.

“Blip” went the holograms and they disappeared. “Thank God!” we cried in unison.

I glared at E.B. “What in Hades was that?” I demanded.

He sheepishly answered, “The guy in the shorts — Pip Greedlinger — wrote a book called How To Monetize Anything: The Millenial’s Guide to Late-Stage Capitalism Success. He thought he could sell more books by monetizing kid’s Easter egg hunts with adult brunch hunts, if he featured the recipes of a great chef, the late Julia Child. I went along with it, figuring that all the restaurants that have suffered in the pandemic could benefit, hence the hologram advertising.”

interjected, “Do you believe he could pull it off? It sounds like a logistical nightmare, plus, like many late-stage capitalism ideas, it’s redundant. Most adults are perfectly capable of finding or preparing brunch.”

“You’re right!” E.B. agreed. “I’m going to leave kid’s Easter egg hunts just as they are, a happy celebration of the promise of Spring. Also, because I’m a metaphysical entity, I have no need for money and I have no desires, except for one.”

“What’s that?” I asked, with great trepidation.

“To tell this bunny punny. What did the Easter Bunny call brunch hunts? A hare-brained idea!”

Then he giggled, “See you next year!” and vanished in ametaphysical cloud.

I could go for a hoppy IPA at