Easter Sunday

By
Howard squeezed the bridge of his nose attempting, quite unsuccessfully, to halt his dawning migraine. His wife, Carrie, had a hot pink Blackberry nudged between her chin and shoulder, one hand on the wheel, the other on the car’s stereo.

“She did not! Susan knew that’s exactly what I had planned for mine and Howie’s anniversary.” Carrie’s voice continued to rise until she reached fortissimo. She was completely oblivious to the road and the chaos now unfolding behind her.

Howard’s first borns, Mikey and David, were pulling the hair bands out of Brigit’s pigtails, placing them between their forefinger and thumb, and aiming the newly converted sling shots toward the back of Jack’s head. Lisa had started wailing from her car seat, regurgitating her breakfast. Cheerios, Gerber muck, and the like had been unleashed onto her new Easter dress.

Howard tried to sink further into his seat, willing the grey leather interior to swallow him.

A sickly pungent smell had begun to fill the mini van.

“I have go poopy,” Jack announced.

“Ewe. I think you already did,” shrieked Brigit as she rolled down the window, gasping in clean air.

“S***!” Carrie slammed on the brakes, sending everyone lurching forward. Her Blackberry shattered against the front windshield as the last of Brigit’s hair bands snapped the nape of Howard’s neck.

The mini van was lodged into the sign of the Lutheran Worship Church, the tiles “E-A-S-T-E-R S-E-R-V-I-C-E” embedded into the side of the car.

Howard gracefully exited the van, collected his family and walked into the chapel. Everyone was quiet for the duration of the service.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback