I was up too early this morning, awoken by the strange sound and technicolor tinge of a broken neighborhood. I decided to walk through my backyard down to the cave. It was cold, like hace frio de puta madre cold! Especially because I forgot to put on my socks, and the grass was crunchy from frost instead of dewy, like a wife.
I stumbled down to the cave so early in the morning because that’s where I keep my bunnies. Though the bunnies aren’t really mine; they’re contracted. The bunnies lay all the jelly beans and colored eggs I need for this time of year. My plan was to hide jelly beans for the neighborhood kids and homeless and the colored eggs I was going to sell to the nouveau rich on the streets for $13.50 a pop. And I had well over 50 well-incubated pink and yellow eggs, even a couple purple and green ones, and a rare black one (from the black bunny).
Things didn’t go as planned. When I got to the cave the large boulder covering the entrance was removed. Whoa, tell me what’s-a-happenin’!. I wondered to myself whether I forgot to close the cave the previous night.
But then I remembered I had been at a naked roller-derby expo and hadn’t rolled in until late. But then how did my bunnies move such a large boulder?
I went inside the cave and the bunnies were gone! Not even a trace of fur! I immediately went back inside and picked up the phone to dial 1-800-Lost-My-Bunny, but I could barely speak because I then noticed the tapestry hanging on the wall that I bought in India was torn in two. That was definitely a sign.
I dropped the receiver, looked out the window. Day had turned to night and I could just barely hear the voice on the line, “Can you please hold…estimated hold time is…4…minutes.”
I didn’t want to wait that long, so I hung up.
I grabbed the phone again. It wasn’t dial-a-lost-bunny, but someone slightly more important: my cousin in Oklahoma. He said there had been sightings of bunnies all over the countryside and the bunnies were surrounded by a faint light and music. People were saying “They have come; They have risen!”
I was shocked and I had to ask, “Well, tell me, what kind of music?”
And he said, “Some say disco, but I swear I heard sitars and tamblas.”
I told him about how my Easter plans had gone awry, about the crunchy grass and boulder and the empty cave and the torn tapestry. “You don’t think that possibly…” I began.
But we didn’t want to think the impossible. We both were quite creeped out. But since I was tired and day had turned to night, all I wanted to do was to crawl back into bed. I knew I wasn’t going to be selling colored eggs today anyway.
“Well, cuz, I’m gonna catch some sleep. Let me know if you hear anything else about those bunnies.”
I put on some socks and climbed into bed hearing sitars and thinking, I’ll fix that tapestry tomorrow.