My Easter in Hell
A knock coming to my front door early one bright Easter morning was my first clue that things weren't going to be all sweetness and light that day; a steaming, viscous puddle of a black, tar-like substance was all over my doorstep. As I stared askance at the rancid ooze, something began to arise out of it, gradually assuming shape as it rose and detailing itself into the figure of a black rabbit perhaps five feet tall, complete with ears. The slanted, piercing eyes of the figure, a demonic red, swiftly led me to realize that the lapine was not of this world.
I met the hellish eyes with my own. "Flopsy!," I greeted with a hint of a smile. "What an unpleasant surprise!-How the hell are you?," I inquired.
In response, the creature, now fully formed, hissed at me, revealing his impressive dentition. I knew what I had to do before things got really ugly, even though it meant that the neighbors were probably going to get on my case again. In an instant I transformed the complete mass of my body into energy, assuming the form of a werefox made out of flames.
Now Flopsy was primarily a netherworld rabbit of liquid nature, actually much like petrochemicals. I flowed around him, enveloping the hell-bunny in flames.
"Let me give you some sugar, Flopsy," I whispered into his black rabbit ears. Flopsy issued a high-pitched shriek as he burned rather merrily, shrinking under my fiery embrace until nothing was left but a core of hardened tar residue. I morphed back to human form, smoldering; damn, the freakin' neighbors were already starting to stare out their side window!
"See you in hell, Flopsy, I'm sure," I said as I regarded the smoking remains. Unfortunately, I knew that Flopsy was only a third of the unholy trinity visiting me this Easter.
In confirmation of my suspicion, Mopsy then appeared. A gaseous creature, Mopsy hovered ghost-like in the air before me, a black, wraith-like semitranslucent rabbit also sporting the same demonic red eyes as his recently banished brother. Mopsy carried a spiked mace in his paw, and began to twirl the ball of it menacingly in my direction.
"Life is a mist that vanishes, Mopsy," I observed, grabbing a pedestal fan near my front door, aiming it in Mopsy's direction, and hitting the "High" button. The fan kicked into overdrive, the resultant blast of air causing the spectral ghost to lose cohesion and dissipate before his tenuous substance was scattered away.
"Filthy windbag," I muttered to myself. It was then I noticed that the third member of the unholy trinity had appeared before me.
"Hello, Cottontail, I've been expecting you," I said to the black menacing rabbit of earth who stood regarding me, a wicked-looking hatchet in his paw. No easy way out of this one...it was time to demonstrate my profound mastery of the martial arts with Cottontail.
The battle raged for several minutes afterwards, Cottontail swinging his hatchet at me while he growled and hissed and the blade singing as it passed through empty air. Across the front yard and into the neighbors we fought, but Cottontail really had no talent for the martial arts. I was able to land several punishing blows to his solid little body and then wrenched his damned little black rabbit head off. The neighbors were by now out of their door, screaming at me, shaking their fists, and threatening to call the police.
Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail now banished, I had a call to make myself...an extremely long distance call to a conservationist/author type in the afterlife...
...Beatrix Potter dutifully answered her cell phone. "I understand that you've defeated my children," she said with a note of controlled annoyance. "Well, next year I may just have to send a fungus after you," she announced. "I did considerable work in mycology, you know!," she reminded me. I didn't need to be reminded; the woman could also probably attack me drawing from her other work in archeology and geology. I then had a pleasant if slightly strained several minute conversation with Beatrix, who thanked me for calling before she hung up, ever the proper English lady.
Turning off my phone, I turned about to see that the Trix rabbit had entered my house uninvited in search of his blasted cereal. "Have I not suffered enough this Easter?," I cried to the heavens. "Am I not fit to die?"
Evidently not, for the celebrity cereal spokes-rabbit could not be persuaded to leave my abode until he had eaten his fill of sugary breakfast cereal. Now I live in fear of what future holidays shall bring to my door...