Saturday evening, right before we were supposed to go to bed I filled out the sweats with my pillow and hopped on the outside of the fence, inspiring my brothers and sisters to run to bed so the Easter bunny could start laying eggs.
After the desired effect was achieved I told mom that I wanted to run down to Sister Parkinson's house, who was a wonderful seamstress, and show off. Sister Parkinson ooohed and aaaahed and then, when my ego was sufficently inflated, I started home.
As I was crossing under a lightpost, at the intersection of Eastview Drive and Grove Drive, I heard a shout. I turned, looked into the darkness and saw two boys on bikes who were speeding up towards me shouting, "It's the Easter Bunny! Get it!"
Thank goodness for instinct because it was a few seconds after, when I was thinking "I'd better run!" that I realized that I was already running...no...SPRINTING up the hill. I was running so fast! Whooosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! "Get the Bunny!" Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! "Where did it go?!" Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
I finally ditched the dorks on bikes by ducking into the Scott's yard. I was sneaking past the their sliding glass door when I heard a high pitched squeal coming from little Marky. "Iths da EEETHOR RWABBIT!" That set my legs revving up again and I found myself stopped up by the horse corral.
The Scott kids came boiling out of the door and were jumping up and down. "It's the Easter Rabbit! It's the Easter Rabbit!" I thought to myself, "Why not?" and performed a little hop in front of the horse gate for a few seconds. I then slipped through the bars, spooked the horses and hopped into the night...It was pitch dark, I was jittery and with my imagination there was a biker boy behind every bush...It took me over an hour to get home that night.
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