Beware the Easter Eggs (Preview)

Feels good. Sylvester sucked down another breath of air and released it. I should do this every so often. I feel like I can fly through the rest of work! He smiled. Heh, yep. Should be done in no time with the lines and-

SPRRROOOOING!

What the heck?

Sproing! Sproing! Sproing! Sprrrrooing! The goofy noise was getting louder and closer. It seemed so far at first, but now, it was only a few feet away. It was coming up from behind.

The closer they got, the odder the noises became. The “sproings” were strange, warped even, like a cartoon sound effect that gotten distorted or pitched lower in the studio. It would almost be creepy if the sounds still didn't give off such goofball energy to them.

SPROING-OING! THUMP! Sylvester felt a small shake in his feet. The sound had now come from the front of him.

“Heys youse!” A gruff, goofy voice greeted his ears. Sylvester finally opened his eyes and looked down.

There was a toon standing before him, a very short one at that with how he would barely reach his hips if the human stood up. It was an orange rabbit wearing a pink vest, blue bowtail, and bowler hat. His visage and color design said cute, but the aura and voice said otherwise. It almost felt like he should've been chomping on a big cigar.

Sylvester started blankly at the little guy. Who the heck is this? He said nothing, and the bunny, in turn, said nothing as well. He just looked him over from top to bottom, studying him like a piece of art in a museum.

After a bit, the bunny's black nose made a cute little twitch. “Youse look like the kinda chump I'm lookin’ for!”

And whatever potential cuteness Sylvester might have found in the silly toon was gone like that. His arms slid off the top of the bench and against his sides as he stood up. He looked down at the toon with a long frown. “Excuse me?”

“Mhm!” The bunny nodded, seeming to talk to himself and pay no actual attention to Sylvester. “This is a real sucker in need of some fixin’!”

Sylvester’s mood sunk lower. He wasn't sure exactly what to make of this rabbit toon, but he knew enough. He wasn't just going to stand there and take it. “Look,” he spoke firmly, pointing down at him, “I don't know what your issue is, but you can just scram, Mr. Bunny.”

“Mistah Bunny is my dad's name!” the bunny exclaimed, now actually seeming to hear him. “I'm Peter Cotonkrail, if ya must know!” He let out a gruff scoff. “I'm a bunny with a plan ta fix up this season, starting with you!

“I mean…” Peter looked Sylvester up and down. “It's Easter Season, and youse just walkin’ around lookin’ like dat? Pa-Leeeeeeeze!”

“I really don't have to take this.” Sylvester started to turn and walk back towards the park entrance.

However, that's when he saw the bunny make a move. He reached behind his back with a gloved mitt and pulled out a small basket, filled with, naturally, Easter Eggs. They were painted in a wide range of colors, but there was just something off to them. Despite the range, all the colors were muted and darker, like they were in the shade during sunset.

“Time for your dose of Easter Tidin's!” Peter declared. His other hand snapped into the basket and yanked out one of the eggs, baby pink. His paw gripped it tightly, but not enough to actually crack it.

Then, his arm spun. It started to rotate, like a pitcher working out the kinks in his arm. Then, it spun like a cartoon pitcher, a blur to the eyes that Sylvester literally couldn't track. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he didn't like it one bit.

He opened mouth to say something, but what he was going to say never came. WHISH! Peter's arm stopped on a dime, and the egg flew in a blink of the eye, right at Sylvester. Despite its size versus his mouth, it flew right into the maw without a single bit of resistance. The shock sent him back down onto the bench.

GULP! Down the egg went, through the mouth and down his throat, somehow going faster and easier once it was in. In the back of his mind, he noticed the taste of sweet, fresh strawberries as it passed over his tongue. It was something he usually enjoyed under different circumstances. Not right then.

Sylvester reached for his throat in a vain attempt to stop it. It was far too late, barely catching and noticing the cartoonish bulge of the egg going down his throat. It hit his stomach a second later.

And once it did, Sylvester shook. He rapidly vibrated in his spot, like he was smashed between two cymbals in an old cartoon. Vibrational waves floated off of him even.

Eventually, the shaking concluded. The man, razzled and dazed, was left groaning. “What…” he uttered, struggling to find the word at first after that brain rattle, “What was that?! What did you just-”

SPROING! Sylvester was then thrusted back onto his feet. A big push came from his bottom all at once, as if an airbag had deployed. An airbag with a cartoony sound effect that is.

“What was that?!” Sylvester reached around with his hand quickly. First, his hand hit the back of his black pants. Second, it slowly raised, finding the top of them had torn open.

Lastly, he felt something. It was soft, fluffy fur shaped into a big ball of fuzz. It was white as snow, though he couldn't see that part. It was like a big, cartoony bunny tail.