Hello dear reader(s)!

Today is the day of Easter.  Now, some, will tell you that this day has religious significance, and that is fine for them.  As you know however, I am not particularly religious (being Agnostic and all), and so to me Easter has a completely different meaning. The meaning is more about the celebration of family, Spring (even though it was near 80 last week and is in the 50’s today), food, and fun.

But I am jealous of all the Christians who get a cool back-story to the whole day, (and actually, like a month or so), so I have decided to invent my own.

First, I will explain why I call it EEEEEEEEEEaster.  (Number of Capital E’s may vary.)  EEEEEEEEaster is called that, because EEEEEEEEEE is the sound we make when we are excited about good things happening.  We “EEEEEEEEEEEEE”.  So it is only fitting to us, that we call Easter EEEEEEEEEEaster.

Now for the story of why we celebrate EEEEEEEaster.  Gather round in your semi-circle children, Teacher is going to tell you the story of how we came to celebrate EEEEEEaster.  So grab a handful of Goldfish crackers, and open your imagination and minds to learn about the story of EEEEEEaster.

The year was 1984.  It was January.  My older brother had been hit in the back with an egg, likely thrown at him by Jenny or Mitch.  Jenny, her brother Matt, and their friend Mitch were all the “bad” kids on the street who did not like us and our friends.  I was pretty young, so I was kept out of it for the most part.  (Except when Matt was throwing molotov cocktails towards our house down the street one evening, but that is a different story for another time.  Matt had issues.)  Anyway, my brother had been hit with an egg and was dead-set on revenge.  Little did Matt, Jenny, and Mitch know; that my brother had received roughly $200 in money from all of our relatives and my parents in Christmas gifts.  He still had about $180 left.

His best friend (at the time) Rance, lived across the street from Matt and Jenny’s grandmother’s house (where they were living) and even though she was very nice, she was ill-equipped to keep her evil little bastard grandchildren in check.  Rance’s older sister and my older sister were good friends, and during the day we often went over and hung out with Rance at his house.  My sister and Rance’s sister would hang out inside watching soap operas, and Rance, my brother, Rance’s little sister, and I, would usually play outside gathering walnuts from their tree or making Kool-Aid to sell at the Kool-Aid stand we made.  Not on this day, however.

On this day, my brother (the persuasive little bastard), somehow convinced all of us (excluding my sister and Rance’s older sister, who were the responsible ones and weren’t let in on the fun) to enact my brother’s revenge in spectacular fashion.  It started by going to the store and buying $180 dollars worth of eggs.

The next step, was to take positions on Rance’s roof, directly across from Matt and Jenny’s grandmother’s house.  I’m sure you can imagine the final step in the plan:  Launch as many eggs at the house as was humanly possible.

It was an unusually warm January day, and we were off school for Christmas break.  We knew that when the eggs stuck, they would not be easy to clean off.  There was no wind, so even my 7 year-old arm could propel my egg-missles far and true.  At roughly 10 am, the attack commenced.  I do not remember who gave the order to fire; in combat, it really isn’t important.  A good soldier follows orders.

Eggs flew from the roof.  Almost every egg fired on that day hit its target.  The entire house was painted with egg shells, egg yolk, egg white, egg-goo.  The light brown with dark brown trim had been replaced by egg.  Never did we take into account that this was their grandmother’s house and not theirs.  It was the equivalent of bombing an entire area for the actions of some terrorists within that area’s borders.  But, like US foreign policy, our actions were childish and only concerned with sending a message.  And sending a message we did.  Proportional response was not in our tactical playbook.

We never saw the counter-attack coming.  You see children, in those days, the police force was about the same size it is today, only they had nothing to do.  So as we were closing up the cartons to be thrown in the trash, 8 (not exaggerating) police cars with 2 officers per car, (again, no exaggerations) screamed up to deal with this terrorist threat to the neighborhood.  Two pulled into the driveway, the rest on the street.  All the officers exited their cruisers in formation, doors open, holster straps unsnapped.

Rance and my brother got off of the roof quickly and ran, but were caught.  Me, being shorter and more scared of heights was caught as I was carefully trying to get down, as was Rance’s younger sister.  My older sister, and Rance’s older sister, were not so lucky.  Unaware of the whole thing, when the cops barged their way into the house, they both pleaded ignorance.  (Which was true, they were baking and watching soaps.)  The police, unsatisfied, decided to cuff Rance’s older sister.  My sister, decided this wasn’t right (it wasn’t) and made what would likely be a fatal mistake today, (especially if she weren’t white) and jumped on one of the cop’s back in an attempt to stop his overzealous arrest of a 14 year-old innocent girl.

Rance’s younger sister and I were deemed too young for anything more than a ride to the police station and a call to the parents, along with a serious lecture from anyone and everyone who happened to walk by.  My brother and Rance spent a few hours in Juvenile Hall, but the nature of the crime was found to be less than what would keep them there for much longer.  I’m not sure what happened to Rance’s older sister, but I think she was let off as all she did was get arrested for not knowing what was going on.  My sister got the worst of it.  She was charged with assault on a police officer (as a juvenile) and given 1 year of house-arrest.  You’d think I would feel guilty, but things even out…trust me.

And we all got grounded.  For a very long time.

Now, we had celebrated Easter before (my mom was raised Catholic), but this Easter was when we all came off restriction.  (Except for my sister’s house-arrest restrictions, but that still allowed her to have friends over.  The grounding was much harsher.)  The excitement for that Easter was incredible.  So much so that “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” was the only possible expression of it.  It was the best EEEEEEEaster ever!

And that, children, is the story of the first EEEEEEEaster.  Happy EEEEEEaster or Easter to all of you, however you celebrate it, or don’t.


Author: Josh Wrenn

Cancer survivor, wanna-be artist, musician, author, and all around good guy.

23 thoughts on “EEEEEEEEEEEEEaster!!!!!!!!”

  1. Great story!!! I assume that was a really a learning experience to be carried forever (with that many police cars – how scary for a little kid). So exactly how many dozen eggs did you guys have? And who cleaned the egg off of the grandmother’s house? I bet that was a real mess!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My brother had to clean it up, it took him weeks. The only times he was allowed outside. He also had to write an apology note to the grandmother (which he did…sort-of (another story for another day). Yeah, it was pretty interesting.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Looking back yes, at the time, I was so scared. Learned some good lessons though. There is a lot more that stems from this story. I’m looking forward to posting it. You ever forget some of the funniest or most interesting things from your life until something reminds you? A can of worms has been opened here.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, that is a true story…except apparently I was wrong in that my brother and Rance also didn’t go to Juvenile Hall and were only taken to the police station too. So I guess I remembered that wrong.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This Eeeeeaster origins story is much less horrifying than the standard fare. I think. That *is* a lot of eggs. I’m glad you guys weren’t diabolical enough to leave them out for a couple of weeks before throwing them.

    Liked by 1 person

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