You’ll become irrational when you discover that the eggs at a local church’s Easter egg hunt are filled with communion wafers instead of candy. Unable to appreciate the meaning of the day and put pettiness behind you, you’ll demand chocolatey goodness from the minister.
You’ll immediately regret buying your kid a bunny for Easter. Not only is taking care of a rabbit harder than you expected, but you’ll constantly step on cold, mushy pellets of waste on a daily basis.
You’ll be kicked out of a local park when you use the shiny new public grills to launch a new restaurant idea. Your homemade “The Grill World” sign will be taken down and you’ll be banished when the city is alerted of your unpermitted use.
You’ll suffer from what is commonly referred to as the “ham sweats” after overindulging on the good stuff at a friend’s house for Easter dinner. In your compromised state, you’ll fight your friend’s dog over a rawhide chew you feel will settle your stomach. You won’t be invited back.
You’ll second-guess the year’s you’ve spent as a devout Catholic after the Holy Spirit lets you fall asleep during the Easter vigil mass. You’ll awake to embarrassment when the cantor realizes your snoring isn’t a new bass accompaniment.
Because it’s their last season in Mobile, you’ll break down and buy season tickets for the BayBears. Unfortunately for you, all of the remaining home games will be rained out. That’s #soMobile.
After its prohibition on plastic bans fails to pass, the state will attempt another power grab over cities and require state approval of local mayors and city councils. The down side is obvious, but on a positive note, there won’t be any more pesky disagreements.
You’ll find yourself at Bel Air Mall this week having pictures made with a giant rabbit. The rabbit will remove its head and reveal itself to be former Mayor Mike Dow, who will then ask you for a donation to GulfQuest. Don’t do it.
Upset with the gridlock in Montgomery, you’ll create a powerful third party with the only stipulation for candidates being they must end every debate with “I know you are, but what am I.” It’ll be surprisingly effective in committee meetings.
A relative’s recent purchase of pygmy goats as pets will enliven Easter and fill it with the sounds of goats chewing Easter baskets, butting Aunt Phyllis’ walker with their tiny horns and non-stop bleating. But they’ll taste delicious!
After being forced to taste the marshmallow abominations that are “Peeps,” you’ll write an angry letter to the manufacturer. You’ll wait patiently for the tasteless blobs to be unceremoniously removed from grocery store shelves. You’ll be disappointed.
Your significant other will once again arrange an Easter egg hunt that requires you to fill “no fewer than 20” plastic eggs with large bills and “sort of hide” them in the yard. Do yourself a favor — fill them with Monopoly money, grab that two-foot-tall chocolate bunny on the table and hit the road. You’ll thank Dr. Z later.
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