Happy Easter you filthy animals!

Madge had been spring cleaning The Clam when Father Michael of The Wind of Our Holy Mother asked for Easter donations. Bisket polished stemware as she eyed the Father in his ass-hugging black Dockers and wondered if she should try confessional again. Then her eyes darted to Madge, who offered Bisket's services at the Church's Easter Egg Hunt. But Madge waved her off before she could protest as Father Micheal downed his whiskey shot and left the bar.

Bisket stood in stunned silence, then asked, "What the hell are you thinking?" Madge laid out her plan to infiltrate the congregation's through a bit of neighborly cooperation. Bisket was offered the business credit card for something pretty to wear in exchange for a couple of hours of her time. Bisket knew that the right outfit would have Father Michael on his knees. That night, in the midst of a Grindr hole, Bisket made a wardrobe choice that would never be forgotten. 

On Easter Sunday, Madge, dressed to impress, climbed the front steps of The Wind of Our Holy Mother and shook the waiting hand of Father Micheal. Madge surveyed the children dressed in their cheery Easter duds, all lining the side of the church, under the watchful gaze of their parents. 

"Where the hell is Bisket?" whispered Father Michael.

"She said she was still getting ready." Madge nervously glanced at the visually fidgeting Father. "I'm sure she won't be long."

The children's squealing drew Madge's attention towards the bushes near the rectory. Stumbling out of the greenery was a rabbit, the biggest damn bunny she's ever seen. As the crazed carrot-muncher spun around, Bisket's glasses were unmistakable under the canopy of ears. The children ran to her laughing as Bisket hippity hopped into the sunlit churchyard holding a massive basket of decorated eggs in front of her.

Father Michael and Madge pushed through the milling parents and laughing children to find Bisket handing out eggs to the smiling faces. However, Madge saw that Bisket wasn't handing the largest eggs in her basket to the kids. "Those are for Father Michael." Bisket made her way to the priest as the crowd thinned, beaming at his flock in the sunlit grass.

"Happy Easter Father Michael. I saved these for you," Bisket blushed.
The clergyman's eyes rose to Bisket's as his hand closed around the warm eggs she'd been saving. He thought the eggs shifted in his grasp. Puzzled, he thought, are those hardboiled eggs? Bisket winked.

Happy Easter, you filthy animals.

Leave a comment

Please note, comments must be approved before they are published