Easter Egg Hunt

Swigmon Fwad
HAPPY EASTER My Friends,

In a previous correspondence I mentioned that I was at one time a Master Easter Egg Finder. This Easter morning as I rose out of bed I decided to put those skills to the test and see if I still had the old Zing.

I searched the entire house from top to bottom, front to back, upside down, inside out, over and under, every which way I could. Sadly I must admit, I found a lot of disgusting stuff, but nary a single Easter Egg. Could I have lost one of the few skills I had? Or hath the Easter Bunny forsaken me? Woe to me in either case.

Suddenly my favorite quotation came to mind, “The reverse is just the opposite.”

“Aha!“ I said to myself, “Truer words were never spoken,” I began a reverse research of the original search. No stone was left unturned as I threw the house in disarray completely opposite of the first time, and wondered what stones were doing in my domicile other than just being used as metaphors? Sadly the end result was the same as the reverse which was just the opposite of the first.

Maybe The Easter Bunny doesn’t come around anymore? That would explain it.

Suddenly a knock on my front door. I opened it to find neighborhood children selling eggs. I reminded them there was a “No Soliciting” sign on the door. They reminded me they could not read.

I asked where they got the eggs. They said they had found them this morning.

“From The Easter Bunny?”

“Yes!”

Heavy drum beat.

I was devastated. They had found tons of eggs, and I not a one.
A cute little blond haired girl asked why I was so sad and I told her about finding no eggs.

“What are you talking about, Mister?” she asked, “There’s eggs all over the place. You just have to know where to look.” She took me by the hand and led me to the end of the driveway and turned me around.
“See, There they are!”

Eggs were all over my house. Someone had egged me. I glared at the little brats, but they convinced me they only egg my house on Halloween and I was pretty sure they weren’t there that long. It had to be someone else but I had no idea whom. With the price of vegetables these days I didn’t know anybody who could afford to do such a thing. The kids suggested they were random transient egg chuckers from chicken cluckers passing through town on their way to a Willie Nelson concert.

I agreed, the idea was so far-fetched it had to be true , but wondered how kids who were not yet able to read could come up with such a philosophy?

I resolved myself to the notion that Easter Eggs were for kids and I had become too old to hunt for them.

However, when I went to see my Uncle Clyde that afternoon at the Senior Citizen Center, they were all sitting around a table with something in their hands.

My Uncle saw me approaching, “Hello Nephew, Come on in, We’re picking off shells from the eggs we found this morning.”

“Eggs?”

“Yeah, From The Easter Bunny! Get with it nephew. You’re more out of touch with reality than we are?”

I looked at an old gentleman sitting by himself.

“Stay away from him,” said my uncle, “He slimed himself.”

“Slimed himself?”

“Yeah! He grabbed an egg out of the ice box that wasn’t cooked.”

It was a bit pathetic to see them picking at the eggs and I could tell it would keep them busy for a long time. But it was also nice to know that SOMEDAY I would be able to once again put my skills to good use.

Swigmon Out
By George