Job Therapy Part II

*Dr. Frinkle, your three'o'clock is here.*

"Thank you Ethel, send him in."

A moment later the door to Dr. Frinkle's office opened and a figure in a trench coat and a wide-brimmed fedora hopped into the room. Dr. Frinkle looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“Can I take your hat and coat for you?”

“Sure,” said a deep, gruff voice from under the fedora.

Dr. Frinkle got up from behind his desk and took a hat and trench coat from a five-foot-tall rabbit. He was startled and stared for a moment and then reminded himself that he was a professional and hung up the clothes items.

“So,” said Dr. Frinkle as he returned to his seat behind the large desk, “over the phone you said that you don’t like your job.”

“I hate my job,” corrected the rabbit.

“Right,” said Dr. Frinkle with a slight sensation of déjà vu. “could you tell me a bit more about this problem?”

“Well, it’s simple really. My job sucks. I’ve been doin it for too long and I don’t even know why anymore.”

“Why did you start your job in the first place?”

“Actually, I started out as a delivery bunny. I used to deliver all sorts of packages and things to people all over the place. Then, one Easter I deliver a bunch of candy and I get this reputation. They started callin me the Easter Bunny. Then everybody expected me to show up with candy wherever I went. I couldn’t take it!

“So, why did you keep doing it?”

“Awww, I don’t know. For the kids I guess. I quit for a bit and then a started gettin all these sad letters. ‘Where are you Mr. Easter Bunny?’ ‘I love the candy you used to bring Mr. Easter Bunny.’ I’m a softy, what can I say. So I decided I could maybe do the candy thing once a year. And why not do it on Easter when it all started. I’ve been doin it ever since.”

“What do you do the rest of the year?”

“Oh, show-biz mostly. Easter movies or commercials. The odd cult film. You know, stuff like that.”

“Have you ever thought of trying another line of work?”

“Are you crazy? What other kinda work is a giant bunny gonnna get? This is my livelihood.”

“So why don’t you like it?”

“Why? I’ll tell ya why! I’m a bunny and they got me handin out eggs. Tell me how that makes sense. I’m a mammal for cryin out loud!”

“What about those chocolate bunnies. They’re more appropriate aren’t they?”

“Oh, the chocolate bunnies? Don’t get me started! Talk about sick! Would you want to walk around handin out chocolate effigies of your children to other people to eat?”

“Ah, I see.”

“Besides, this isn’t even supposed to be about me. Everybody thinks it is, but don’t they know what the real point of it is?”

“You mean… Jesus?”

“Of course I mean Jesus. This was his day first. It’s supposed to be a celebration of him raising form the dead, not a day to get candy from a giant bunny!”

“You’re religious?”

“Ya, I’m Catholic. Is that so hard to believe? Just cause I’m a bunny I can’t believe in God, or what?”

“No, I only meant that…”

“Whatever man. I’ve met bigots like you before. You make me sick. We’re people too ya know!”

“Well, not technically…”

“Ok, whatever Dr. anti-bunn-ite. Can you help me, or not?”

“Well, we can work through your resentment towards others if you make an appointment for next week. But for now, I want you to think of ways that you can do your job while remaining true to your religious convictions.”

“What, like write cheesy evangelistic messages on Easter eggs?”

“I think that’s already been done, but you’re on the right track."

“Alright, thanks doctor. I’ll see you next week.’

“See you then.”

And with that the Easter Bunny stood, put on his coat and hat, and hopped out of the office. Dr. Frinkle sighed and made a mental note to get himself checked out by another psychologist the next chance he got.