Okay, fine. You caught me. Congrats on catching the real Easter Bunny in the act. Yeah, I’m real. As real as Santa Claus. You know what else is real? My hatred of Santa Claus. Seriously, screw that guy. Like his job is any harder than my job. You know how long it takes to hide two dozen eggs? How much creativity? What I do is much more complicated than throwing a bunch of presents under a tree.
But please continue to regale me with tales of wonder about Santa and his elves, the hundreds of talented elves making and wrapping the toys for Santa, happily taking care of all of the details that make Christmas so… Christmas-y. Such a plentiful support staff. And every last one of them is abso-fucking-lutely delighted to make Santa’s job easier. None even entertain wishes or dreams of their own. Nope, they’re just there for Santa. What else could they even want? So don’t think for a moment that they’re being exploited, that they’re an indentured workforce, trapped in a frozen wasteland, working off a debt they know they’ll never fully repay. Don’t think that because it’s probably not true. Only maybe I’ve heard some shit. From very reliable sources.