Easter Bunny
Angela de la Paz helped her grandmother into bed. Abuela could hardly walk anymore, but her last visit to a misguided emergency room staff had yielded nothing but a negative x-ray for fractures and a dose of Tylenol. The diabetes was inching closer to taking abuela's legs. Angela wished her grandmother a final "Happy Easter!", then returned to the kitchen to clean up. She looked at the pile of dirty dishes and pans, and paused to bite the head off her one chocolate bunny. She didn't know that her grandmother was already planning to return to the store Monday morning to buy Angela a real pile of candy after the prices got slashed. Abuela was praying for God to let her continue to walk, but His will be done. Abuela wasn't afraid of dying, and she wasn't even afraid of not walking, but who would take care of Angela? Abuela didn't even realize that it was already Angela who was taking care of her.
Several miles west, Hue Nguyen was merrily handing out chocolate bunnies to the residents of the Arlington group home for the mentally challenged. "Hey, watch this," said Buckner. He picked up two marshmallow chicks, inserted toothpicks into their sides as lances, then placed them face-to-face in the microwave. As the heat caused the chicks to swell up, the illusion arose that they were marching towards each other with lances poised to stab. Wham! It was no illusion! Chick #1, pierced mortally by Chick #2's lance, exploded all over the microwave. Everybody burst into hysterical laughter, even Hue. For a few moments, their home was the happiest place on Earth, and Ardua seemed very far away.
A few miles east, Secretary of State Condaleeza Rice was sitting back in her red leather recliner for the first time in weeks, gazing out at the Potomac. She was methodically chewing through her imported chocolate bunny laced with French orange liquer while listening to a Bach CD. She was sick of the Middle East--too many men that won't listen to a woman, even when she's the smartest person in the room. Her jaw opened wider, and her bunny bites grew larger. And those British fools! Boy, did they get played by Iran. World War III was not being executed properly, and she was starting to get very annoyed about it. Now her mouth was full of bunny. And Pelosi! Boy, would she like to smack her.
A few hundred feet below her, Ardua had been sulking at the bottom of the Potomac, disturbed by the Easter spirit, but now perked up. Condi was back! Ardua had missed Condi.
A few miles south on the Potomac, Marcos Vazquez was in his Southwest Plaza apartment chewing on the chocolate bunny sent by his mother from Puerto Rico. He was watching the continued efforts of two idiotic pigeon doves to build a nest inside the utility room inadvertently left open by sloppy workmen on Vazquez's balcony. Two little eggs rolled around on the wind-swept balcony floor. Occasionally their mother would stop to reexamine them, then rejoin her mate in stuffing twigs into the control panel. Talk about poor family planning! What he didn't know was that they had, in fact, built a nest before laying those two little eggs, but a catbird had kicked out the eggs and laid her own in that nest. They knew their babies were probably dead, but they didn't quite want to give up on them, even as they built their new nest to lay new eggs. Pigeon doves never give up hope.
A few miles north, the White House butler pulled the chocolate bunnies out of her protesting twins' mouths and sent them to brush their teeth and get their jammies on. Clio wrapped the bunnies in tin foil and put them in the refrigerator, next to the urine sample she would be taking to the lab first thing in the morning. She shut the refrigerator door, poured out a glass of water, and took her prescription bottles out of the cabinet to dose herself before tucking the twins in. They had been strangely quiet today, almost serene. What Clio didn't know was that the White House ghosts were confused into silence by Easter, and had stopped bothering the twins. Reggie and Fergie climbed into bed and awaited their mother's arrival to read The Velveteen Rabbit. Clio walked in and smiled because she lived for moments like this.
Back at Southwest Plaza, Golden Fawn chewed on her chocolate bunny in defiance of the chemotherapy nausea. She closed her eyes and thought about Ardua and thought about the breast cancer. She stuffed the rest of her bunny into her mouth delightedly. Golden Fawn had made up her mind to win.
Several miles west, Hue Nguyen was merrily handing out chocolate bunnies to the residents of the Arlington group home for the mentally challenged. "Hey, watch this," said Buckner. He picked up two marshmallow chicks, inserted toothpicks into their sides as lances, then placed them face-to-face in the microwave. As the heat caused the chicks to swell up, the illusion arose that they were marching towards each other with lances poised to stab. Wham! It was no illusion! Chick #1, pierced mortally by Chick #2's lance, exploded all over the microwave. Everybody burst into hysterical laughter, even Hue. For a few moments, their home was the happiest place on Earth, and Ardua seemed very far away.
A few miles east, Secretary of State Condaleeza Rice was sitting back in her red leather recliner for the first time in weeks, gazing out at the Potomac. She was methodically chewing through her imported chocolate bunny laced with French orange liquer while listening to a Bach CD. She was sick of the Middle East--too many men that won't listen to a woman, even when she's the smartest person in the room. Her jaw opened wider, and her bunny bites grew larger. And those British fools! Boy, did they get played by Iran. World War III was not being executed properly, and she was starting to get very annoyed about it. Now her mouth was full of bunny. And Pelosi! Boy, would she like to smack her.
A few hundred feet below her, Ardua had been sulking at the bottom of the Potomac, disturbed by the Easter spirit, but now perked up. Condi was back! Ardua had missed Condi.
A few miles south on the Potomac, Marcos Vazquez was in his Southwest Plaza apartment chewing on the chocolate bunny sent by his mother from Puerto Rico. He was watching the continued efforts of two idiotic pigeon doves to build a nest inside the utility room inadvertently left open by sloppy workmen on Vazquez's balcony. Two little eggs rolled around on the wind-swept balcony floor. Occasionally their mother would stop to reexamine them, then rejoin her mate in stuffing twigs into the control panel. Talk about poor family planning! What he didn't know was that they had, in fact, built a nest before laying those two little eggs, but a catbird had kicked out the eggs and laid her own in that nest. They knew their babies were probably dead, but they didn't quite want to give up on them, even as they built their new nest to lay new eggs. Pigeon doves never give up hope.
A few miles north, the White House butler pulled the chocolate bunnies out of her protesting twins' mouths and sent them to brush their teeth and get their jammies on. Clio wrapped the bunnies in tin foil and put them in the refrigerator, next to the urine sample she would be taking to the lab first thing in the morning. She shut the refrigerator door, poured out a glass of water, and took her prescription bottles out of the cabinet to dose herself before tucking the twins in. They had been strangely quiet today, almost serene. What Clio didn't know was that the White House ghosts were confused into silence by Easter, and had stopped bothering the twins. Reggie and Fergie climbed into bed and awaited their mother's arrival to read The Velveteen Rabbit. Clio walked in and smiled because she lived for moments like this.
Back at Southwest Plaza, Golden Fawn chewed on her chocolate bunny in defiance of the chemotherapy nausea. She closed her eyes and thought about Ardua and thought about the breast cancer. She stuffed the rest of her bunny into her mouth delightedly. Golden Fawn had made up her mind to win.
posted by washingtonwaterwoman | 9:27 PM
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