I, in no way, shape, or form, own ROTG (Rise of the Guardians). Comprendo señores, señoritas? Good.

It's only fair to warn you, I have deeply abused the exclamation point in this story.

. . .

Jack lies on his bed (situated in the North Pole), sick as a dog. He's so far coughed up his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack. Bunny checks on Jack's IV, then replaces the luke-warm cloth on his head. Honestly, who's ever heard of a Winter Spirit with the flu?! Oh, how Bunnymund wishes Jack was up and around, giving the Warren a preview of the ice age. Well, maybe not the whole Warren. Bunny looks at the dreamsand floating over Jack's head. He suddenly can't help cracking a grin. It looks like Jack is dreaming of the pranks he's pulled back in the day. Bunny of all people should know-they were all on him.

. . .

Jack smiled evily, but quickly hid it behind a book. Not quick enough for Bunny, however. The giant rabbit was worried enough that Jack was 'reading' a book, but the grin was the clincher. Aster unlocked his door, then pushed it open with a broom handle. Nothing. He carefully checked his room, searching for so much as an exploding dye pack. Bunymund had been covered with enough pink dye lately to scar him for life. The search came up with bupkis.*

Aster sighed in relief. Maybe that frostbitten ankle biter from heck was after North this time 'round. Even though he knows better, the Pooka let down his guard when he went to raid the kitchen. *BAM!* A bucket of ice water landed on Bunny's head. "Classy, Frostbite, real classy."

Not so much as a snicker came from Frost's corner of the room. Bunny yanked off the bucket/helmet and searched for North's carrot stash. (North had taken to locking them up like his best vodka whenever Bunny came by.) The Guardian of Hope made a triumphan grunt at finding the lock box. Bunny had shooed the kitchen Yetis out one day, then torn the whole place apart. He had discovered the carrots, and North never bothered to put them in another place. The rabbit picked the lock and grabbed his 'prize'. He snuck back to his room, deciding to paint the few eggs he had brought.

*Crun-*, Bunny stopped in mid-chomp, his eyes bugged out. "Ugh, YUCK!" Bunny sucked in a huge breath of air, then yowled Jack's name. The rabbit's head became one big throbbing vein as Frost opened the door. Bunnymund quietly asked the Guardian of Fun what he did to the carrots, his voice filled venom enough to kill a snake. Jack held up a bottle of (pure) bloodroot juice, eyes twinkling.

"North asked me to take care of his rabbit problem . . ."*

. . .

Bunny rolls his eyes, and keeps his eyes locked on the sand. He hasn't eaten one of North's carrots to this very day. A new memory plays, and another prank with it.

. . .

Aster sighed, tired to his very bones. Four hours of painting eggs, two hours of chasing that &*^%) Frostbite, five hours fighting Pitch, and two more hours of chasing Frostbite. The poor Pooka felt like he was going to fall apart, but managed to get to the shower. He stripped off his armor and let his muscles melt in the hot water. He lathered on the shampoo, then started the whole 'lather, rinse, and repeat' bit. He suddely stopped, something smelt funny . . . Ach! Ew . . . "WHAT IS WITH YOU AND THE BLOOD ROOT?!" Bunny roared, then shook his fist. Great, that's another two hours shot.

. . .

The rabbit chuckles. He now has all his soaps under maximum security guard.

. . .

By heck or high water he was going to make Jack pay for this. This was a disaster on a grand scale . . . no, that wasn't strong enough. This was a sacrilage. T'was the day before Easter (1802), and Bunnymund could hear everything crashing around his ears. Every last egg he had painted for the past year was gone. He knew exactly who the culprit was, too. For the theif had left a trail of frost for a calling card.

The angered rabbit searched high and low, over hills and under them. He turned the entire country of Australia upside down looking for those eggs. How far could one teenage boy get with over 5 million Easter eggs?! The Guardian of Hope knew one thing-Jackson Overland Frost would pay.

The next day, Bunny continued his search, hoping to get in an at least belated Easter. However, he didn't notice the spots of color dotting the countrysides he passed. It eventually took a six-year old for Bunny to get the picture. "Thank you, Mister Easter Bunny!" he cried happily, holding his egg up to the Pooka. Bunnymund stopped in his tracks. What in the name of sanity was going on here?!

After another hour, a bewhildered Pooka finally gives up. It was clear the eggs were hidden well, not in the tops of trees or near the edges of cliffs. The children were finding them easily enough, no one had to go home empty handed. But what really irked Bunny was that he couldn't take credit for it, and he didn't know who should. (Apparently, he had given up the idea Jack had anything to do with this.)

A few days after the Great Easter Egg Heist, Frosty flew by. He asked Bunnymund if he minded Jack doing his rounds, and if got some rest that Easter. Bunny just smiled patiently (albeit a bit grimly), and said he didn't mind at all. He graciously glossed over losing two days sleep and nearly throttling the Winter Spirit. The Snowflake was, admittedly, a good kid, but couldn't he have just left a NOTE?

. . .

Bunny wakes up after being jostled roughly. Jack Frost smirks down at him. In a split second, Aster knows he'll be hearing about this for the rest of his life. Supposedly, Cottontail fell asleep whilst reminiscing. Sandy will probably tell you a different story. The Easter Bunny looks sheepish for a second, then quickly starts a glaring contest to cover it up.

No doubt about it. All is offically well in the Santoff Claussen.

. . .

Bupkis is Yiddish for absolutely, positively, nothing at all. *

If you want to get rid of rabbits in real life, try planting bloodroot, onions, or even a type of flower like daylily. I'm not even sure if there is such a thing as bloodroot juice. Sounds like something a vampire would like, doesn't it? **

. . .

Thus endeth my inspiration. Ideas accepted and extremely welcome.