Saturday's Surprise: Open The Envelop...
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Saturday's Surprise: Open The Envelop...
| Sat, 03-30-2002 - 10:09am |
Saturday's Surprise: Open The Envelope (m)
Write a short story (500 words or less) about a message and Easter eggs. For example, the message can be written on a dyed egg or inside if you use the plastic eggs.
Happy Writing,
Mac

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Sunday's Easter Surprise (m)
He picked a purple one because Lilly loved purple. He collected up all the other purple ones and hid them in the mitten box. Then he put the mitten box on a shelf in the garage, behind the cases of motor oil and antifreeze. Lilly didn’t hide eggs in the garage.
Sam found an engraver to print the question on a flexible card using the most romantic script. He asked the jeweller for a velvet pouch, small enough to fit inside the plastic egg. Six days before Easter he assembled his surprise.
“Do we have enough eggs this year?†Lilly rummaged through the box of Easter supplies, pulling out pastel-coloured baskets and crinkled cellophane stuffing. She picked out the plastic eggs and counted them.
“Thirty-two, that’s odd. I swear we had more last year.â€
Sam sat at the table with Lilly, stuffing foil-covered chocolate eggs and sickly-sweet marshmallow chicks into the plastic eggs. Together they crept around the rooms of the house hiding eggs in the soap dish in the shower, behind the curtain at the front door, and beside the chest freezer downstairs. While Lilly undressed for bed, Sam tucked the purple egg into the coffee can in the kitchen and joined her in bed.
“Think we’ll ever get married?†Lilly planted a slobbery kiss on Sam’s neck.
“Us? Who knows,†said Sam. “You think the kids would mind?†Lilly rolled away and gazed at the ceiling fixture.
“Robby said you’d make a great dad. He said the twins like you too.â€
Sam slipped his arms around Lilly’s warmness and whispered in her ear. “Maybe the Easter bunny is listening.â€
At five-thirty, three pairs of feet thumped into the bedroom and three wriggly boys launched themselves onto the comforter.
“Wake up! Wake up! The Easter Bunny was here!â€
Sam opened one eye. “How can you tell?â€
“He left a rabbit beside my bed,†said Robby, eyes shining.
The twins each wore a chocolate goatee.
“I’ll get the coffee,†groaned Lilly. “You supervise the egg hunt.â€
Sam followed the flannel-pajama creatures from room to room. From the kitchen, Lilly heard shouts of “I found one!†and “In the bath towels, ha ha!â€
She put a new filter in the coffee maker and reached for the coffee can. She didn’t notice Sam creep into the room to watch. Lilly opened the can and reached for the scoop.
“What the…â€
She picked up the purple egg and spun around. Sam grinned.
“Did you put this in here?â€
“Open it.â€
She wrenched the two halves apart and the card and velvet pouch dropped onto the counter.
“Sam?â€
“Read it.â€
She turned over the card and looked at the words. She looked into Sam’s face. His eyes scanned her face; he held his breath. She looked back at the card and back at Sam, this time with a smile from cheek to cheek.
“Yes.†Lilly whispered. “Oh yes!â€
This was so sweet! I hope (m)
the Easter bunny brings me some tissues. I loved the whole idea but especially the ending! Oh yeah, the part where Sam said, "you think the kids would mind" was funny.
Great job & "hoppy" Easter,
Mac
Cool and touching story , eyewrite! (nt)
Easter Egg-scape.(m)
I woke with a start Easter morning. The clock said six-thirty. The sun was already up, but something felt amiss. I knew my parents weren't up yet, so I wondered what was going on. As I stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, I hear a strange, muffled sound from outside.
I dressed and rushed to throw open the window. The sound grew louder -- seeming to come from every direction at once. I strained to define it. At last I realized it was the sound of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of children wailing.
Gosh, what's happening, I wondered, running to turn on the television.
"... And police have no idea what has happenened to Peter Cottontail. The governor has called in the FBI ..."
"Oh, my gosh! Tug," I said, grabbing my little beagle by the collar. "This is awful, boy."
I turned back to the TV set. A reporter was interviewing someone identified as Ed Turner, FBI agent. "... And what did you find, when you and your men searched the area?"
"Well," Mr. Turner said, "All we know is that everyone east of a line running from the Canadian Border to Lake Charles, Louisiana, got their Easter eggs. Everyone west of that line -- including Springfield -- is eggless."
"And you have no idea where the Easter Bunny might be?"
"Not a clue. But we have agents searching for fifty miles on either side of that north-south line."
"I see. Thank --"
I flipped off the television, looking around for Tug, but he'd gone somewhere.
The crying had slowed down a little. Now, all I could hear was the sound of several hundred children snubbing and huffing over and over. The sound sent chills up my spine. It was so heart wrenching, I could barely eat my oatmeal.
I'd just slipped my dirty bowl into the sink when I heard a scratching at the kitchen door. Who could that be?
I opened the door to find Tug bouncing up and down, a giant pink plastic egg in his mouth.
"Well, fella. That explains why you didn't bark. What do you have there?"
He dropped the egg at my feet, whining and growling as he darted a few feet away, stopped, and ran back. Then, repeated his actions.
"What's this?" I popped open the egg and drew out a small scrap of paper. It read:
"Help! I'm being held prisoner at the Agri-giant rabbit processing plant ..." It was signed with a rabbit spore and the initials, PC.
"Oh, no, Tug! What'll we do?"
Tug jerked away and began darting off and returning again. "Wuf, mmmurr?"
"What? You know where that plant is?"
"Wuff, Wuff!"
His 'yes' was as clear as the nose on my face. I grabbed my trusty BB gun and some extra BBs. "Lead the way, boy. We'll show those durn agri-giants that they can't kidnap the Easter bunny.
I followed him across field and meadow, over hill and through holler. At last, he stopped and whined.
There, ahead of us in a large clearing, was an old rundown plant, surrounded by a tall fence topped with barbed wire. A guard, with a large billy club, paced back and forth along the fence.
"Wow, old fella," I whispered. "What do we do now?"
Tug whined and crawled on his belly toward the fence. Within moments, he had dug a big hole under the fence and was creeping toward the guard.
I wiggled through the hole, pulling the BB gun through behind me. Tug jumped at the guard. He whirled and caught him across the nose with the billy club, sending poor old Tug reeling.
"You big bully!" I shot the man in the fanny with a BB. As he dropped his club, Tug lunged at him, tripping him. While Tug stood over him, growling courageously, I grabbed the handcuffs from the guard's belt and cuffed him to a small tree near the fence.
As I finished, Tug raced away toward the back of the plant. Just then, the door of the office flew open and a dastardly looking fellow with a thin black mustache shoved the Easter Bunny out ahead of him -- a large butcher knife held to his throat. "Drop the BB gun and don't move, or this bunny is stew meat!"
I was really scared. I dropped the gun, looking around for a way to save the bunny. I could tell he was scared too. His big pink eyes were wild; the sky blue ribbon at his neck, and his soft white fur, were soaked and matted with sweat. His long ears drooped in despair.
"All right, hero," the man sneered. "Get the key to those handcuffs out of the guard's pocket and uncuff him."
I hesitated.
"Now!" he roared.
"Help me," the bunny pleaded.
"Who is this guy?"
"I'm Phineas Pharton. President and CEO of Phineas Pharton's Phunny Bunny Stew."
"He wants to take all the new little bunnies, as they hatch from the Easter eggs, and raise them for stew meat."
"You monster!" I was horrified. "No. I won't do it."
He bent down and picked up my gun, nearly breaking poor PC's back as he stooped over. Uttering a terrible, screecking laugh, he pointed the gun at me. "Then say your prayers, kid. You and the bunny are dead men."
I watched his finger move toward the trigger, as if in slow motion, and closed my eyes, sure I was a gonner.
I heard a scrabbling sound, then a frightened scream, and growling. Opening my eyes, I saw good old Tug, firmly attatched to the villain's gun hand, growling and shaking it back and forth.
"Get him off. Call him off!"
"Not until you let Peter Cottontail go," I said, laughing at the sight of that pitiful coward yelling and crying. Tug was waving back and forth like a flag in the wind as the man jerked his hand around trying to dislodge him. But that lionhearted little fella never flinched.
"All right! You win." The man shoved the rabbit away. "Call off the dog."
"Grab the gun, Peter," I cried. And as the rabbit lunged for it, I said, "Okay, Tug. Hang on to Pharton until get him tied up." I grabbed his necktie and tied his hands together behind his back as Tug let go. Then, taking his belt, I tightened it around his ankles. His pants sagged and fell down around his feet.
When I was sure he wasn't going anywhere, I said, to the rabbit, "Keep him covered, Pete. I'm gonna go call the cops."
"With pleasure."
Within minutes, the sound of sirens filled the air. Phineas Pharton was loaded into a police car, along side the guard who had helped him.
An FBI helicopter landed and an agent rushed toward Peter Cottontail. "We'll give you a lift. Kids everywhere are waiting for you."
"Thanks." The big bunny turned toward me and extended a paw. "And thank you and Tug."
"No problem." I blushed.
He stooped and climbed into the copter. Then, he turned, and said, "And I'm really sorry about missing your house that Easter you were four. Bad head cold that year. Had a little hangover from the cough syrup."
"Aw,"I shrugged. "Forget it. I have."
He nodded and smiled. As the copter lifted away, I saw him wave.
"Come on Tug, our work is done here."
By the time I was halfway home, I was so tired we stopped to rest under a big oak tree ...
"Bob, wake up sleepy head. You'll miss the Easter egg hunt."
I opened my eyes. What was I doing home in bed?
"Come on, honey." My mother turned to go down stairs, my dirty clothes in her hands. "Where did you get all this dirt from?"
I looked at the dirty knees. "I don't know, Mom."
"Well, get ready for breakfast. Don't forget, we're going to church. Oh, by the way, someone left an Easter basket full of candy for you on the porch this morning."
"Really?" I rushed downstairs. There on the cabinet was a huge basket, full of candy, marshmallow bunnies, and chocolate eggs. And tucked into one side was a rawhide dog bone with a bright yellow ribbon on it. I pulled the little card from the envelope and opened it. All it said was:
"Thanks. PC."
THE END
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
Loved it eyewrite. Very sweet!(nt)
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
ROFL, Great story! (m)
You could make this into a super duper children's picture book story. You have a great dilemma, and Bob and his trusty dog foil the bad people all by themselves. I like the part about the belt around the ankles ;-)
Funny funny, very funny!
Eyewrite
Heheheh, thanks eye.(nt)
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
What a pleasure to read!!! (m)
I loved everything about this one, from Phineas Pharton's Phunny Bunny Stew, "Then say your prayers, kid. You and the bunny are dead men” to "And I'm really sorry about missing your house that Easter you were four. Bad head cold that year. Had a little hangover from the cough syrup."
I agree with Eyewrite. You should try to sale your story. It would make an excellent picture book.
Mac
Catchy title to a funny and wonderful story! A truly enjoyable read! n/t
Thanks mac. I am going to give it to(m)
my grandson as an Easter present (edited with his and his dog's name in it)because Easter snuck up on me this year and I didn't have a chance to g et him anything. LOL, it's handy to be a writing grandma.
Thanks for the feedback. Glad you enjoyed it.
Linda
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
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