Hunt, Whack, Burn

Sunday, April 8, 2012

All ten turned up in one long row that morning, just in time for the service.
Joe’s nose was cut up. Francis had gotten him with the frisbee.

The Easter egg hunt commenced following the service. Puck, running out to join the gang – including a pink fluffy sugar fairy of an Anneliese – about five seconds too late, burst into a sobbing fit as his competitive edge took over. It was just too much, too much to stand seeing all those bundles of kids running around collecting eggs before he had a chance to shoot out there himself. He ended up with about a dozen eggs anyway and an…
“Oh well, kid. I warned you it was starting.”
…from his mother.
Sometimes… Collette wasn’t exactly the most sympathetic person in the world.
Meanwhile – as usual – Rose had only appropriate comments for the morning…
“That guy looks like Saruman. I always wanted to know a guy who looks like Saruman.”
Just like the previous evening at church.
Benedict – the male version of Rose – had been wearing a suit…
“So,” Rose had said, “I see you’re wearing your Easter dress.”
Benedict had responded by stepping on her foot.
Following the opening of the resurrection eggs, with Linnea aiding on stage, the remaining four returned to the house where…

A splash of hot pink sweatshirt walked across the ridge of the roof.
Rose.
“Oh!” Puck gasped, hurrying to unbuckle to race over to check things out.
But Rose was trying to be sneaky. Carrie sat beside her at the ridge, leaning over waiting for Collette to walk into the garage.
“Hey,” Collette called up.
“Aw, Rose, you gave us away. I was going to spit my gum out on her head.”

Inside, over light make-your-own sandwiches…
“So… Rose went out to dinner with Benedict last night…” Carrie was saying.
“And twelve other people,” Rose protested.
“Well, all I know is that when she called me later that night, she was looking for her cat in the oven.”
“I was not!” Rose protested.
The cat had, in fact, escaped, and had been wandering the various floors on the apartment – one could only presume – until Carrie had found her waiting at the primary door to the building. Nice-looking cat though. A pale tiger fur with orange eyes. Carrie suggested the name “Nala” from “The Lion King”. Rose wasn’t interested. Gwendolyn was one idea. Or Scheherazade.
Meanwhile…
“Mama!” Puck yelled from the bottom of the steps. “Could you help me!”
“What’s up, bud?”
“Francis… Francis is making me carry up his dishes. But that’s his own job. That’s his property.”
Puck then joined Carrie on the couch…
“So…” said Carrie. “Are you taking things slow with Anneliese these days?”
“I’m taking it fast!”
“So it’s getting pretty serious?
“Yeah… serious. I’m going to marry her.”
“Who’s going to do the cooking?”
“I am!”
“And where are you going to work to make the money to take care of her?”
“I’m not sure which kind of work. Can you think of a work?”
“Well… Uncle Francis wanted to be a garbage man…”
“Yeah. I will do that. And do baseball… and skating…”
“And what will Anneliese do while you’re working?”
“Read some books to, um, her, our… our children…”
“So you’ll have some children?”
“Yeah. If you get married, you have to have some children.”
“How many will you have?”
“Three and a half.”
“And what kind of a car will you drive?”
“I’m going to buy a limousine for our children. You have to have a limousine for three and a half children!”
By this time, Linnea and Puck were both sitting on top of Carrie, as they, plus Rose, lounged together on the couch.
“Carrie,” said OLeif, “you’re the only person I know who uses humans as blankets.”

Outside, following the afternoon siesta, Collette discovered the patch of mint by the patio – that was an old scent from old gone days.
Meanwhile, Rose had discovered Francis’ Boy Scout merit badge ecosystem experiment – weeds in a sun tea jar.
“What? How did that survive?”
“I don’t know,” Francis grinned. “I forgot about it and let it outside all winter.”
A thriving jungle strained to push past the cap spout. Even a pass of moss on the woodland floor. Rose was amazed at the product of Francis’ non-efforts…
“I’m surprised clouds didn’t start forming. A little thunderstorm…”
“A tiny civilization starts worshipping,” OLeif added. “Did you know, when I lived in Illinois, there was a creek on our property. And I would cultivate it, as a tourist attraction.”
Then Francis got busy burning cones of paper on the cement.
Puck was chasing Snuggs, who had been attached to a bell to warn unsuspecting bunnies and mice.
He then joined most of the kids on the side green where the badminton court had been resurrected. And because Joe had removed his shirt, Puck followed suit.
“I’m wearing my tummy,” he had explained.
“Oh, my eyes!” Carrie declared to Joe.

Grandma Combs and Uncle Mo were the first to arrive, direct from the car show.
The small crowd mingled at the picnic tables, lightly discussing the guilty plea of the former boss of OLeif, Carrie, Lucia, and Rose, and of the former governor of Illinois – whom Uncle Mo had met several times – now working for twelve cents a day in the Big House. Maybe enough to purchase a candy bar every two weeks or so.
Aunt Petunia came in next.
Carrie kept tabs on the game – another victory – from the radio on the patio. The same radio Mom had received from Grandma and Grandpa the day she graduated high school.
Aunt Day and Uncle Bobs – to add a sweet Aussie accent to the day – rolled in during the beginning of a six-sibling badminton match that played on for quite some time. Collette, Joe, and Linnea vs Carrie, Rose, and Francis. No one was ever really sure who won. Collette was certain about one thing, though. A sore back.
And finally Lucia turned up – though Linus was at work – just in time for the usual spread of potato salad, ham, rolls, deviled eggs, and salad.
During dinner, Lucia got busy harassing Joe’s buddies via text messages on his hijacked iPhone. She couldn’t look more guilty.
Badminton was running heavy into the evening hours. Aunt Petunia, Mom, and Lucia were added into the mix next, and wouldn’t quit until Dad lit up another monster bonfire. Uncle Bobs, not as used to cooler temperatures, hurried over with a lawn chair. He and Dad chatted theology as Mom set out the bakery items brought in by Grandma Combs – chocolate cake, strawberry-topped strudel, and angel food cake. Carrie and Mom had punched out a few dozen giant bunny sugar cookies dusted in colored sugar and sprinkles. Everyone gathered around the fire, including Linnea, who did not appreciate Joe shaking the branches of the pine above her…
“Don’t do that, Joe! It’s the tick tree. Ticks will be raining down on us!”
But Joe was busy with other things. He and Francis didn’t even have time for dessert.
They were too busy slapping the frisbee through the fire back and forth. It landed in the coal pile several times, leaving the occasional smoldering edge.
They were joined by the fluffy little Maltese hopping over the grass hedge from the Bosnian family behind them, eager to join in the fun.
The Silverpoons remained until Puck had wrestled Joe one more time, careening around the yard with a plate-sized bunny cookie in hand.

It was kind of the best Easter on record.