A tribute to Easter (sans bunnies)

Last time I went egg hunting was two months ago when Spar management surprised everyone and moved their eggs from next to the bread to the fresh produce aisle. They also ran a special on hot-cross buns that day which lead me to believe Spar thought it was Easter — in February. As I shopped around I realised they weren’t the only ones. Checkers and Pick n Pay also celebrated Easter in February. In fact a lot of shops I go to revel in Easter for months on end selling bunnies and hot-cross buns all year round.

Such is the power of Easter. You cannot limit it to just one weekend. Easter will always find a way to break free and let us know it’s there regardless of the date on the calendar. It really is a year-long candy-coated marshmallow extravaganza coming to a magnificent crescendo in a couple days time.

Sure it lacks the stand-out of a Christmas; the pizazz of a New Year’s Eve. Like Zuma at a Brics meeting Easter is sometimes seen as a child at the grown-ups’ table — a plain old long weekend with a good Friday, a decent Saturday and a so-so Sunday. But let me tell you something — cometh the hour, cometh the egg — Easter can stand up to any holy event out there. Good Friday? Try awesome Friday. This is Season’s swan song — Christmas’s encore. Coming up is not a long weekend — it’s a holiday.

So let’s leave the office en masse this year. Let’s take to the highways like we did three months ago — an unstoppable holiday making force sleeping in Monday and leaving early Thursday. Don’t even say goodbye when you leave — shoot up from behind your desk, bust through reception and make a dash for the stairs, freedom and the four day break you deserve. Easter is a major holiday, dammit. Right up there with maternity leave, personal days and the Rugby World Cup.

Now, I know of late the first instinct is to hide from police but please grow a pair, venture outside and go hide some eggs. Kids love a challenge these days so throw in some GPS coordinates and try to get those chocolate treats buried in places like the Huguenot Tunnel and the Seweweekspoort. Shake it up this year. I know for a fact the Kruger millions are buried in the Seweweekspoort and wouldn’t that be something? Jannie and his sister returning home with chocolate on their faces and gold in their pockets. Those hollow bunnies don’t come cheap.

Come to think of it let’s lose the bunnies.

Bunnies belong on Playboy covers and in magician’s hats. Bunnies should be left alone so they can have sex. Bunnies don’t lay eggs and they’re definitely not hollow so forgive me as I break into chant — all the rage at the moment. Chant along. Everybody now: Kill the Easter bunny. Kill the rabbit. Wait, that’s a bit harsh. Let’s change it: Maim the Easter bunny. Yes. Maim the Easter bunny. Maim the rabbit. Much better. Give the little guy a fighting chance. More maimed bunnies are exactly what Easter needs. Probably the funniest Easter ad I’ve seen was one with a picture of two bunnies. One had its ears bitten off and the other a bite taken out its backside. The speech bubbles read:

“My ass hurts?”

“What?”