“I’m surrounded by morons,” I muttered, making certain both the accused in question could hear me, before I began hopping away from them. I was positive I looked like a psychotic Easter bunny terrorizing the woods.”

“And if that bastard’s innocent,” Rhage spoke up, “I’m the fucking Easter bunny.” “Oh, good,” someone quipped. “I’m calling you Hop-along Hollywood from now on.” “Beasty Bo Peep,” somebody else threw out. “We could put you in a Cadbury ad and finally make some money—” “People,” Rhage barked, “the point is that he is not innocent and I’m not the Easter bunny—” “Where’s your basket?” “Can I play with your eggs?” “Hop it out, big guy—” “Will you guys fuck off ? Seriously!”

“And I have the others in me. Even when I’m far away from them, I am forced to live with them. Even when I’m all alone, crowds surround me. I have no place to flee to, unless I were to flee from myself.”

“Look, whenever I hear or read I’m beautiful, I simply don’t understand it … I’m certainly not beautiful in any conventional way. I didn't make my career on beauty.”

“So you don't really believe in love?" I whispered. How could this be? I was crushed. It was like finding out the truth about Santa Claus and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny in one sitting.”

“But I was afraid of the questions (much more than the accusations) you might both put to me. ”