Saturday, April 3, 2021

Hop on, Easter Bunny. Hop on.

 

vintage Easter basket // woven wicker natural and pink and green Easter decoration 1960s 1950s
Source etsy
This event was before the Superman Travesty, back before I knew just how low and evil my brothers were, and would become.

It was Easter, maybe 1960 or 1959.  Church was over.  Ham dinner was eaten and done. It was time for the egg hunt.  Hard boiled and dyed eggs had been hidden in our vast lawn after we all had fallen asleep.  It was never questioned by whom.


Free Stock Photo: Whole chocolate Easter Egg unwrapped with smooth plain surface on straw.
Source

It was a brutal competition, with lots of screaming, shoving and pushing. There may have been some scratching and punching as well. There are no memories about who garnered the most eggs; the hunt was not so much about speed—it was about who was most devious and/or violent. 

Then Easter was gone, baskets were packed away for next year, and deviled eggs were supper. With no holiday to anticipate, a veil of tedium settled over our farm in a pre-summer heat.

In the middle of the night, something woke me, something like a POP!  I rolled over, catching just a hint of chocolate.  Then a new smell came in waves---foul, recognizable, nauseating.

It was the distinctive odor of rotten eggs.  Rolling out of bed and looking under it, I spotted a lone Easter basket with the remains of an exploded egg.  One of my three brothers had placed it there before I went to bed. (My bedroom was that clean...seriously...even under the bed...)


Opened the window…threw the Basket out…and heard the muffled giggles from my brothers’ rooms.  They were waiting for my own explosion. 

Well, they did not get it.  I tiptoed down the stairs and slept on the couch.  The rotten egg smell did not limit itself to my room; it traveled to their room as well.

Justice and revenge would wait for another day.  I was the soul of patience.

Those bastards....


This is a post from 2015, rewritten and re-posted 2019 and 2020. Rewritten and here it is now. 

My brothers (whom I love dearly now) were miserable bastards in my youth. They were mean to me most of the time. Revenge will be mine. 


16 comments:

  1. no mean in our family, we were to afraid of daddy. we did not want to set his MEAN off.. but we did have the same life you did in those years, even the church and ham and tedium after the hunt was over. my room was the only clean room in the house, my mother was the worst housekeeper on the planet, except maybe her sister. I think your revenge is cold enough now to be served.

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  2. Oh yeah, there is no worse smell, LOL!

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  3. I remember this from last year. I enjoy it every time you share it. I have a basket exactly like yours, but the colors in mine have faded over time. Happy Easter, dear Susan.

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  4. Come on now, boys ain't that bad. LOL I have honestly smelled rotten egg. Yep sure does stink...
    Enjoyed the visit (we think even if it did stink) LOL
    Sherry & jack hoping you are improving each day....

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  5. One year my grandfather discovered an aged goose egg. Somehow one of my uncles gained possession of it. He threw it about halfway down the hill into the small grove of fruit trees. The smell lingered for days.

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  6. My brothers (one in particular) were also just such bastards.
    I hope your hands continue to improve.

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  7. One year, our local Y gave lessons in pysanky (Ukrainian Easter Egg dying, and my great respect for anyone who masters this technique). I made one and a year or so later...yup. In my bedroom. Hope you are continuing to heal. Happy Easter to you. Alana ramblinwitham.blogspot.com

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  8. I reckon bros test and mess each other around the place hooning around growing up.

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  9. Yes rotten eggs really do smell!

    My good wishes.

    All the best Jan

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  10. My brothers were not quite that bad.

    When my Sweetie was about 6-7 years old, he was walking home from school and some teens pelted him with rotten eggs. He had to walk home in the Texas heat with that stench baking onto him. He still won't eat eggs, sixty years later.

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  11. I have to say, if my brothers were that mean to me throughout my childhood, there is no way I could love them now. A serious lack of trust would hold me back from any feeling.

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  12. It was a Code of Honour for older brothers to be pains in the butts when we were kids. My older brother was! lol

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  13. You tell a story so well! This is a classic. I hope your Easter was wonderful.

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  14. I don't remember having egg hunts as a kid. I'll have to check with my siblings about that. We always had them when my kids were little and also with my grandkiddos only we always used plastic eggs!

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Go ahead...it won' t hurt...I'd love to hear what you think!