So. Here we are, after not speaking for years. I thought we were friends, man.
I've been bringing you chocolate and painted eggs since you were a baby. Since you were this big, and all you did was poop and cry. You've been going along, all this time, devouring my dedication and loving craftsmanship without a second thought. I was always okay with it, too, because I knew that you believed in me and were grateful for my years of service.
But I hear that you're a teenager now and you think you know everything. You think that just because I'm a giant rabbit that breaks into people's homes to lay eggs in surprising places that that makes me not real somehow. Well, as I hope you've learned with homework by now, not believing in something doesn't make it go away. I'm here. And I'm holding your candy hostage until we can make some amends.
I'm willing to look past the fact that you think my work was all done by your parents. Seriously, your mother will say anything these days. It's some sort of power trip. But you're a smart kid. You know your father could never think up all those clever places I've been hiding eggs your whole life. Look at the way he dresses. There's no way he's got an eye as good as mine for these kinds of things.
So here's how it's going to go. You shall reinstate me as part of your belief system, and maybe wear a T-Shirt that says "Somebunny Loves Me." I'm sure it will make you extremely popular with the kids at school. You shall also leave five full-sized carrots (none of that baby carrot nonsense) and three leaves of lettuce out for my consumption the night before Easter.
That is, if you ever want to see this chocolate again.
The Easter Bunny