Catch That Bunny!

Charlie had a plan. This year, he was going to catch the Easter Bunny. Not just SEE it. CATCH it. He'd been planning for weeks. He had his flashlight. He had his net. He was ready. "Tonight," Charlie whispered to Buster the dog, "we catch that bunny." Buster wagged his tail. He did not understand the plan. Step one. Stay up ALL night. Charlie sat on the couch in the dark. Flashlight ready. Net in his lap. Eyes wide open. He would NOT fall asleep. He would NOT fall asleep. He would not fall... ... SLURP! Charlie jolted awake. Buster was licking his face. "WHAT?! What time is it?!" He grabbed his flashlight and shone it around the room. It was still dark outside. No bunny. No eggs. Just Buster. Wagging his tail. "Okay," said Charlie. "New plan." Step two. The trap. Charlie grabbed the laundry basket from the bathroom and propped it up with a stick. Then he lined up carrots underneath. A trail of them leading from the front door to the basket. "When the bunny follows the carrots," Charlie whispered, "the basket drops. BOOM. Bunny caught." He hid behind the couch. Ready. He waited. And waited. And waited. Then he heard it. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Charlie's heart started pounding. "That's it. That's the BUNNY." Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Closer. CLOSER. Charlie pulled the string. THWUMP! The basket dropped. "GOT YOU!" Charlie shouted. He ran to the basket. This was it. The Easter Bunny. CAUGHT. He lifted the basket. Buster looked up at him. Munching on a carrot. Tail wagging. Every single one. Gone. Buster burped. "BUSTER! Those were for the BUNNY!" Buster wagged his tail. "Okay," said Charlie. "NEW plan." Step three. The alarm. Charlie lined up every pot and pan from the kitchen right by the front door. If ANYTHING came through that door, he would hear it. He sat on the bottom stair. Flashlight on. Net ready. This time he would NOT fall asleep. This time he would NOT— ... CRASH! BANG! CLANG! CLATTER! Charlie's eyes flew open. "THE BUNNY!" He leapt off the stairs. His foot landed on a saucepan. CLONK! He slid across the floor and crashed into the coat rack. THUMP! Coats and scarves buried him. The lights came on. Mom was at the top of the stairs. "WHAT is going on?!" Dad stumbled out behind her. "Is someone breaking in?!" Charlie fought his way out and shone his flashlight at the front door. Buster was standing in the middle of the pots and pans. Wagging his tail. No bunny. Just Buster. "...It was the dog," said Charlie. Mom sighed. Dad rubbed his eyes. Buster wagged his tail. "Bed. NOW," said Mom. Charlie trudged upstairs. No bunny. No eggs. Three failed plans and a dog who ate all the evidence. He opened his bedroom door. And stopped. There. On his pillow. A chocolate egg wrapped in gold foil. And next to it, a tiny trail of chocolate footprints leading from the window to his bed. And a little note. Charlie picked it up. Two words. In tiny handwriting. With a little paw print at the bottom. "Maybe next year." Charlie smiled. He looked at the window. Then at the footprints. Then at the egg. "I'll get you next time," he whispered. He climbed into bed, put the egg safely on his bedside table, and closed his eyes. Buster jumped up and curled up next to him. "Don't even THINK about eating that egg," said Charlie. Buster wagged his tail. He was definitely thinking about it. THE END.