It has become a yearly tradition (at least this year) to round up the neighborhood kids and take them to visit the Easter Bat.
At sunset, we hiked deep into the woods and gathered outside the dark cave to wait for the flying mammal’s arrival. In the darkness, the children mused about what the Easter Bat might bring. Some children suggested eggs and candy, but I reminded them only a fucking rabbit would do that. Now think! What kind of gifts do you think a bat will bring? The sniffling, crying group could think of nothing else. Well, I guess that’s what they’ll get.
After waiting around for a half hour or so in the night chill, some the kids wanted to go home, especially the ones who had not told their parents where they were going. I suggested that a few of the kids should go into the cave and see if they could roust the bat out. A few brave amateur spelunkers did just that—three dashing in, two running out in terror surrounded by a cloud of Easter Bats spilling out of the cave and followed by the lumbering form and loud roar of the Easter Bear (with part of the missing tyke on his paw).
The group scattered, filling the woods with the Easter sounds of terrifying shrieks. I decided to rush home and watch The Family Guy. I can’t wait until the coming of the Leaping Lesbian Lizards of Labor Day (Number 4)