The Nasty Little Challenge Rating (1 = disturbing, 5 = disturbing and may cause nightmares, 10 = disturbing, nightmare-causing and most likely to induce vomiting):

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I give this one a 2 on the Nasty Little Challenge Scale.
Sometimes, believe it or not, there are dolls that don’t make me as sick as others.
There are actually some dolls that don’t cause waves of chills to ravage my body.
This doll (photo taken by childhood friend Amy) is placed on display every year at a restaurant in London, Ohio.
I bet that is why he looks so ticked off.
He gets let out for only a few measly weeks a year.
The rest of the time, he is under the stairwell, scratching at the old wooden door.
He kicks at the paneling with his little plastic boots.
Actually, now that I start to think about it, he is pretty nasty.
Especially with that deceptive little suit — all red and welcoming.
He would lure you in with the promise of gifts, only to snap at your fingertip with his nasty little plastic teeth.

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I am going with 6 now.
…and I bet he knows where you and I live.

If you have a photo of a Nasty Little Doll you would like the world to see, send it to me at 11ty@kevinkeigley.com and I will do my best to not vomit in horror.

After his private yellow Humvee limo drops me off, I sit down to visit with the Easter Bunny at his secluded ranch just outside L.A.  He is white as snow and wearing only a little plaid vest with a bow tie.  He sips at some unknown beverage and seems a bit on edge.  I turn on the audio recorder and the interview begins.

Me: Easter Bunny.  We meet at last.
EB: (Settling in his overstuffed chair.)  We do indeed.
Me: Alright.  So what is the deal, really?  For years, it has blown my mind that — you are a rabbit, yes?
EB: A bunny.  Let’s stick with bunny.  It is better for marketing.
Me: Alright, you are a bunny.  What is the deal with the egg-laying?  How did that happen?
EB: You’d be surprised how often I am asked that very question.
Me: …
EB: …
Me: And?
EB: What?
Me: Are you going to answer the question?
EB: No, I am not.  It would ruin the magic of the season.
Me: Because the world would know your secret?
EB: No, because it is actually a pretty disgusting story how it came about.
Me: Next question… (pauses.) I am sorry.  I have to know.  How is it that you lay eggs?
EB: Listen.  I am not going to answer that.  It is not only horrifically gross, but there are so many other things to talk about.
Me: Like?
EB: Well, I make it all around the world in a night too.  Just like Santa.  No one seems to care though.  Everyone is always like, (uses falsetto voice.) “How the freak does Santa make it around the world?  Oooooh!”  He has like a billion reindeer and a kajillion elves working around the clock all year long to turn out toys for girls and boys!  All he has to do is stuff his fat face all year while everyone else does the work.  Then, on one night, he hauls that giant rear of his into a sleigh where those flying deer drag him and those toys through the sky!  He even gets to eat at every stop!  But no one.  NO ONE!  No one ever thinks about me and the work I do on one night of the year.
Me: Easy Easter Bunny.
EB: Shut up!  You opened this Pantera’s Box…
Me: It’s actually Pandora.
EB: What?!
Me: Pandora.  It’s Pandora’s Box.
EB: Whatever man (cuts his eyes to the side and stares.).
Me: So, you are not going to tell us how you, a rabbit, lays eggs?
EB: I will tell you how this bunny is about to go crazy on your head!
Easter Bunny lunges at me with both of his soft feet whirring in the air.  It is a tornado of teeth and nails.  Somewhere in the distance is a siren.  But there, in that plush and overstuffed chair, sits a shiny blue egg.