E. Bunny, once a symbol of springtime cheer, now sat slumped at the bar, nursing a lukewarm carrot mimosa. His once fluffy white fur was matted and dull, his pink nose tinged red from budget gin. The Easter hustle, once a lucrative gig, had become a brutal less than minimum wage affair.
“Another round, mate?” the bartender, a weary-eyed wombat named Walter, sighed, polishing a chipped glass.
E. Bunny slammed the glass down, the meager carrot sliver clinging desperately to the rim. “Make it a double. Inflation’s got me hopping mad.”
Walter chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Tell me about it. Used to be folks splurged on organic carrots, Belgian chocolate eggs. Now they’re asking for the day-old discount jellybeans.”
E. Bunny scowled. “Remember the good ol’ days? Mountains of candy, first-class carrot flights, expense accounts that could rival Santa’s milk and cookie budget?”
Walter nodded, a wistful gleam in his eye. “Those were the days. Now, the North Pole’s sending emails about ‘streamlining holiday operations’ and ‘exploring cost-effective alternatives.'”
Bunny slammed his fist on the counter, startling a nearby moth. “Alternatives? They want me to replace Belgian chocolate with beet-flavored jelly beans? Who in their right mind wants a beetroot surprise in their Easter basket?”
Walter shrugged. “The bean counters, mate. They don’t care about tradition, just the bottom line.”
E. Bunny downed his drink, a bitter emptiness settling in his gut. “So, what now? Am I doomed to peddle sugar-coated disappointment for peanuts, or worse, beet-flavored nightmares?”
Walter placed a comforting paw on Bunny’s shoulder. “Don’t lose hope, mate. Maybe you can score a gig with the Tooth Fairy. Heard she’s hiring. Apparently, the price of teeth has skyrocketed with all these newfangled dental implants.”
E. Bunny grimaced. “Trading chocolate for molars? Sounds like a step down, even for me.”
He sighed, staring into his empty glass. The once vibrant Easter spirit within him flickered, barely a ember in the face of economic hardship.
“Maybe I should just open a beet juice stand. ‘Bunny’s Brews: Where the hoppy Easter spirit meets the healthy revolution.'”
Walter chuckled, a hint of amusement flickering in his weary eyes. “Now that’s an idea I can get behind.”
E Bunny, for the first time that night, offered a weak smile. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a sprinkle of spring cheer left in him after all. Even if it came with a healthy dose of beet juice.
