BUNNY COSTUME —PREMIUM, ADULT
Excellent rental quality costume comes complete with zippered plush fur jumpsuit, mitts, large parade feet and oversized foam and latex mascot head. White with pink tummy.

Tunnel

     Harry Beels was terrified of the tunnels that ran under the factory and this morning he was made especially nervous by the whir and click of cameras that were mounted every twelve feet on the rounded ceiling. He was certain those cretin guards were watching him, laughing at his costume. He flicked at his penis in agitation, reached through the seam in the bunny suit and dug a pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket. Balancing the large foam mask on his forehead, he turned his back to a camera and lit up before he realized that the guards now had a zoom view of his volleyball sized, fluffy cottontail. He inhaled as deeply as he could then ground the cigarette against a NO SMOKING sign.

     The tunnels had been build after the first war and snaked for miles under the factory. As far as Harry knew, no one had ever traversed the entire labyrinth and no one knew for sure how many levels down the tunnels went. They were connected by stairwells that led to different sections of the factory. In twenty-eight years, Harry had never found a beginning or an end to them. He wasn't an explorer, not interested in spelunking the vacated bomb shelters or nurse's quarters that were built before the second world war. Harry knew his path, and never strayed.

    The walls were made of concrete that seeped and stank like rough, gray skin. Harry concentrated on holding his breath so he wouldn't have to smell the inevitable reek of urine. Why did the goddamn mechanics have to pee in the tunnels? There were bathrooms on every other floor. He kicked his pink slippered foot at a two-foot high pile of dust, one of thousands that padded the concrete floors. Cigarette butts, empty soda cans, used condoms, plastic forks, chicken bones and paper plates lined the sloped floors like a jagged carpet. The garbage was pushed out of the way by the thousands of feet that shuffled through it every day, but apparently no one wanted to stay down there long enough to sweep.

    Harry could feel himself sweat under the bunny suit. His armpits itched and again he pressed his hand to his crotch. He could feel his left eye begin to twitch and was oddly comforted by the protection the bunny suit's head offered him. Reaching up, he felt the nylon whiskers, the pooched rubber nose, the long plastic teeth that poked out above his mouth. He licked his upper lip and felt a pang of regret for shaving the moustache he had worked so hard to grow. He shaved it for his wife, because she said it hid his lip, that she didn't know what he was really thinking. He stroked the fur and satin ears deciding maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe they wouldn't recognize him in the costume. Maybe he could have a little fun. He pulled the ears up to their full, perky stance.

     It was a two mile hike to staircase #28 which led to the upper factory. He walked a little faster. It was already 5:30 and first shift started at 6 a.m. The girls would be arriving in the parking lot now, smoking and laughing and probably talking about him. His eye twitched even faster. He knew they hated him, Especially Nadine, that smartass trouble maker. He could feel the fake pink fur damp against his white shirt, and sweat rolled down the inside of his legs as he climbed the seventeen stairs into his sector of the factory.

    The bus shuddered to the last stop. Even though it was March, the air was cold and spiked with frost. Nadine was dressed in her usual; sweat pants, heavy sweater, red high-top shoes and a knit cap with her hair tucked all the way in. She pulled her sweater over her face to shut out the tintinnabulation of Bikeboy's boarding. She hated him. The gate creaked and slammed shut as he locked his bike onto the nose of the bus. Her nerves squirreled up like Chinese noodles. She tried not to glare. At 5 a.m, every sound Bikeboy made was rude. First, the slow dig for change in the fanny pack that bumped against his Spandex ass. A quarter, paaachiiiing, another quarter, paaachiiiing, some pennies, clink, clink, clink, a nickel. Every morning, an hour's worth of change dumped into the coin box. Was it impossible to carry paper money in those shorts? Then, the cheery conversation with the bus driver who despised everyone who worked at the factory.

    "Hi! How's it goin'?"

    At this point, the driver pulled out fast, trying to knock Bikeboy over as he made his inevitable way toward the seat behind Nadine. His helmet made his head look like an insect and his shoes made Nadine cringe. They were pointed and curved like Aladdin's with metal cleats on the bottom to hook him to his pedals. Torture Shoes, Nadine thought, as Bikeboy pranced down the bus aisle like a four year old tap dancer. TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP, then as the bus speeded up, taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.Nadine resisted the urge to stretch her leg into the aisle to trip him as he headed toward her. She had to look up as he passed. That meant it would be a talking morning.

    "Hi. How are ya?"

     Nadine mumbled "fine" under her sweater. God, couldn't he just leave her alone? Bikeboy's eyes were rimmed red and his nose leaked. He was dying to tell Nadine about his icy ride. Nadine slumped further into her seat. Bikeboy leaned forward and put his mouth close to Nadine's ear.

    "Did you hear about the layoffs? I heard two hundred people from the lower factory are going out the door Friday."

    Nadine had heard, was always worried about losing her job. She didn't know what part of the factory Bikeboy worked in, but prayed that he'd be the first to get his notice. When she didn't answer, Bike Boy turned to the seat behind him to talk to The Christian.

    The Christian always wanted someone to talk to. He was the hippest person on the bus. Nadine wondered where he bought his Jesus sportswear. He had T-shirts with Jesus written in cursive on the front, a sports bag with a Jesus logo and his badge hung on a cloth necklace with jesusjesusjesusjesus printed all the way around. He wore a leather jacket with lots of buckles and pockets and round bubble-toed shoes, like cartoon shoes. He couldn't go a single morning without talking to his wife on his cell phone.

    "Don't worry honey, God will provide us with the money. Did you get the casserole baked for dinner? Don't worry, the Lord will take care of us."

    Nadine thought if he didn't spend so much money on shoes, he could probably pay his rent.

    Talking mornings were the worst. Morning was Nadine's time to be still, away from the noise of her job, the mess of her life, the constant pressure of her boss, Harry. The quiet hiss of talking mornings irritated her more than the hum and clang of machines in the factory.

    When the bus reached Nadine's building, she pulled the bell cord and was waiting at the door before the driver swooshed it open. She carried a Halloween shopping bag she had bought on sale that held her lunch, a book, a notebook and some pens and, this morning, a tiny, expensive camera wrapped in a pair of white cotton socks.

    Cameras were forbidden on factory property along with recording devices, alcohol, drugs and explosives. Nadine knew she could lose her job for smuggling the camera in, but her obsession with the tunnels had finally provoked her. She wanted to shoot a quick roll of film in the tunnel five floors below the floor on which she worked. She spent her lunch hours walking the convoluted halls, confounded at what she saw; the detritus of human life drifting down. Convinced someone could die in there without ever being found, she had decided to document each floor on film.

    The women who worked on Nadine's floor gathered at one of the big rolling doors that opened and closed by electronic eye. Three weeks before, a man on a forklift had died when the steel door fell on him as he was driving through. Gossip had it that his body was cut in half. No one would ever know for sure, since the factory had its own ambulance and had carted him off before anyone had gotten a look. Accidents were common in the factory. Someone was always losing a finger or a hand in a machine, or passing out from heat or having a heart attack. Factory paramedics marched in the doors like soldiers and took the wounded away on stretchers. It broke up the time and everyone watched until one of the bosses came by and shouted them back to work.

     The women stood a good distance from the door. Their breath formed a mist over their heads as they smoked and talked. Nadine thought they looked like a small herd of upright sheep and wished she could photograph them. They put off going in as long as possible. This would be the last breath of outside air they'd get for the rest of the day. Nadine nodded hello, when the two-minute bell rang, signaling the women to start their shift. They walked in the door and boarded the freight elevator. Nadine held her breath. The elevator smelled sour, reminded her of holding pennies in her mouth when she was a child. The cage doors clanked shut. The women rode in silence because they knew there was a microphone installed in the air vent. When they reached their floor, Nadine pointed the middle finger of her left hand at the camera mounted in the back corner and stepped out.

    Nadine was pouring a cup of coffee when she saw a man dressed in a pink bunny suit walking across the shop floor. He was waving a giant Easter basket, and handing out candy. Nadine walked toward him, pleased at the distraction. Apparently, the man in the bunny suit was advertising the factory's drive for Easter baskets for needy children. As she approached, Nadine thought about the women in the shop raising two or three children on their own. The women were all afraid of lay offs and she suspected they wouldn't be too happy with yet another money drive.

    The bunny pressed a foil wrapped piece of chocolate into Nadine's hand with his fuzzy paw, whispered "Happy Easter" in a high falsetto when she recognized the tiny, dark eyes of her boss, Harry Beels. His left eye twitched rapidly. Nadine put the candy in her pocket and felt Harry's eyes on her ass as she hurried back to her work. Touching him made her feel sick, even through the costume. When she got to her station, she turned to look at Harry, hoping to catch him staring, but he had moved away and the giant cotton-tail wiggled obscenely as he walked. She grabbed her bag, got the small camera and, holding it at waist level, clicked off five quick shots.