Inner Monologue Of Edward Northridge, Professional Easter Bunny (2018)

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Did I leave my hat in the car? No one would have noticed you were wearing a hat inside the bunny costume. Still: did I leave it in my car? I like that hat. I feel like it gives me a bit of a jaunt when I’m making my way up the stairs of the Metro. Something on the verge of being a sketched out actio — did he just say something like, ‘Oh, glorious Fatherland — I like peanuts?’

Anyway. If it isn’t in the car, then where on earth did I put it? I haven’t had a hat in a while either. It would be nice to find it and not saddle myself with a MacGuffin that could very well follow me around throughout the day — perhaps even trailed by Peter Lore and Humphrey Bogart, too.

Wait — what? Did he just offer me a chance to speak? He’s looking at me. She is, too. Are they applauding me for being a good bunny? I am a good bunn — no. Oh, god. They’re inviting me to speak. What do they expect me to — the hand is glide-path gesturing me over to the microphone, as if to say, ‘This is yours.’ It’s that scene from The 39 Steps all over again, but layered over with this veneer of A Very Self-Aware re-boot of The Manchurian Candidate happening all around me and yet somehow treated with the kind of seriousness someone seems to give to the recreation of an old-fashioned dusty cowboy street filled with historical re-enactors whose emotional dimensions never exceed the aperture of a camera lens.

But it doesn’t matter. It’s okay. You can do this.

“People of Earth. I am Bunny. I bring to you — ”

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