Easter Story When I was eight years old, my Mom hid my Easter Basket (as she did every year) and told me that I couldnt look for in until morning. Im sure that yourself, along with any other fair-minded person will agree that the term morning is open to a fairly wide interpretation. I woke up around 3am and, being a considerate child, I didnt want to wake up my mom by turning on a bunch of lights while I searched, so I lit a candle (all the flashlights where dead) and began searching our small apartment. As I was peering into the under-stairs storage closet (which was packed to the hilt with a jumble of highly combustible junk, including my old 10-gallon hamster aquarium, complete with several months of old, unchanged, cedar shavings) the lit candle slipped from the candle-holder and dropped directly into the pile of cedar shavings, which ignited instantly, as though soaked in gasoline. Once again, being a considerate child, I still didnt want to wake my family, so, as the flames roared up from the aquarium, the most prudent course of action was obvious... I quickly shut the closet door, and went back to bed. Luckily, the exploding panels of glass woke my mother before the whole apartment went up in flames. Fingers were pointed, base accusations were made, and punishment dolled out with complete disregard of due process, fair legal representation, or the obvious fact that I was asleep, and snoring loudly, when my bedroom door was unceremoniously kicked open. When I was nine years old, my Easter basket was given to me on Easter morning. It was never hidden again. True story.
Posted on: Sun, 20 Apr 2014 04:15:45 +0000