The Bunny Is Coming, Page 4

  “Well, when you put it that way,” I tell her sarcastically, feeling my dick die a slow and painful death inside of my wife’s body.

  Grabbing onto her hips tighter, I finally manage to lift her off of me and move her next to me on the bed, watching my dick fall limply to the side in the process.

  “Are you mad? You’re mad aren’t you? I’m so sorry,” Noel whispers, and I can hear the tears in her voice.

  Turning towards her, I smooth her hair out of her face and lean forward to press a kiss against her forehead.

  “I promise I’m not mad. Just, in the future, can you give me a heads up if certain things I say are going to make you sick? That would be great,” I tell her, pulling back to smile down at her so she knows I’m not really mad.

  I’m horny as hell and slightly confused, but I’m not mad.

  “Oh, so I should just make you a list of things I don’t even know are going to make me sick?! I should be a fucking mind reader or something? Maybe you should have married The Long Island Medium if that’s what you expected from a wife!” she suddenly shouts, her mood doing a complete one-eighty from apologetic and upset to Satan himself.

  I sit in the middle of the bed with my mouth agape as she hastily slides off the mattress and stomps over to the bathroom.

  “MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN ME A FUCKING CRYSTAL BALL FOR EASTER!”

  With that parting shot, she disappears into the bathroom and slams the door closed behind her.

  “Holy shit, what in the fuck just happened?” I ask myself as I hear the shower turn on and I flop back onto the bed.

  The bathroom door suddenly flies open and my body jerks in fear when Noel pokes her head out of the door and smiles at me.

  “I love you. Call my mom and ask her if she needs us to pick up anything on the way to their house.”

  Noel blows me a kiss before closing the bathroom door and I stay perfectly still as I stare at it, afraid to make any sudden movements.

  It’s got to be this illness that won’t go away. It’s turned her insane. Hopefully after she showers and we get over to her parent’s house to start the Easter celebration, she’ll be back to normal.

  Chapter 7

  You All Need Jesus

  Noel

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” Sam asks.

  His arm is flung over the couch behind me and he brings it forward to slide his hand under my hair and gently massage the back of my neck.

  “You don’t have to keep sucking up to me. I told you, I’m fine now. I was just having a bad morning,” I tell him, snuggling closer to him on my parent’s couch.

  I feel horrible about the way I acted earlier, but there was nothing I could do. One minute I was horny, the next I was nauseous, then I almost started crying, followed by screaming like a crazy person. This teeny, tiny little baby inside of me is already wreaking havoc on my life. I’m starting to get more and more nervous about Sam finding the Easter eggs and discovering what’s been wrong with me.

  “I’m not sucking up, that blue dress is stunning on you. But I’m happy to know you’re fine.”

  I let his words soak in, considering I feel bloated and disgusting in this Robin’s egg blue sleeveless wrap dress. It doesn’t help my confidence sitting next to my husband, who looks good in anything, and looks especially hot in a pair of slim, khaki colored dress pants, white button down, and suspenders.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything before church?” Sam asks, his fingers twirling a few strands of my hair.

  My mom went all out for Easter breakfast, like she always does. Pancakes, French toast, omelets, sausage, and hash brown casserole. I was starving up until the moment I sat down at the table and saw all the greasy food piled on plates in the center of the table on top of the festive Easter egg table runner. It took every ounce of willpower I had to keep my ass in my seat and not go running for the bathroom. I made up a lie about not being that hungry while I pushed food around my plate and prayed for everyone to finish eating as fast as possible so I could move away from the smell of everything.

  “Okay, close your eyes!” my mom shouts from the doorway of the living room as my dad, Aunt Bobbie, Scheva, and Alex come filing in, everyone taking seats around the room.

  “Mom, we don’t need to close our eyes, it’s fine,” I tell her.

  “Close your eyes or you don’t get your Easter baskets!” she orders.

  We all do as she says, quietly listening to her shuffle around the room, placing everyone’s baskets by their feet. My mom not only outdoes herself with cooking and decorating the inside of the house for holidays, she also goes over the top with presents, even on Easter, and she still gets all of us baskets even though we’re adults.

  “I wanted to wait until Nicholas, Casey, and Holly got here, but of course they’re with her family,” my mom tells us with a twinge of irritation in her voice. “I spent forty hours in labor with Nicholas and he doesn’t even care about his own mother on Easter. He’d rather spend his day with Holly’s family.”

  My mother makes this same complaint every holiday when Nicholas and his family go to his in-laws first. I’m hoping that she’ll stop bitching and just get on with things, but even after all the holidays Sam has spent with this family, he still hasn’t learned when he should keep his mouth shut.

  “Holly’s mom makes a delicious nut roll.”

  Everyone in the room quietly groans at Sam’s announcement, our eyes still tightly closed, no longer for the surprise factor of not seeing our baskets until it’s time. Now it’s just about self-preservation and avoiding the glare of death from my mother.

  “Oh, she makes a delicious nut roll, does she? I gave that woman MY nut roll recipe! MINE! So, technically, I MADE THAT NUT ROLL YOU THINK IS SO DELICIOUS!” my mother shouts.

  I feel Sam scoot closer to me on the couch, probably assuming I’ll shield him from the wrath of my mother, and I quickly inch away from him. I love my husband, but he brought this on himself.

  “I slaved in the kitchen for DAYS and everyone would rather eat my nut roll at Holly’s mom’s house! How about I give you a ride over there, Sam? That way you won’t be too tired TO BE A TRAITOR TO MY NUT ROLL!” she screams.

  “Speaking of nut roll, did I ever tell you guys about the time I used Peeps to give a hand job?” Aunt Bobbie pipes up from somewhere across the room. “Word to the wise, rubbing something covered in coarse sugar up and down a dick is never a good idea. Peeps are all soft and marshmallowy until you really get going. Poor guy. All that moaning he was doing…I thought it was because he liked it. Turns out, there was a lot of chafing from the sugar. Open wounds were involved. It wasn’t pretty. And then you have the whole uncircumcised thing. Peep sugar shmegma getting stuck under all that foreskin is bad news, let me tell you.”

  I hear her take a slurping sip of whatever drink is in her hand, and if we don’t get this show on the road right now so I can open my eyes, I’m going to throw up all over my mother’s couch.

  “Mom, I’m opening my eyes,” I inform her.

  “NO! Not until I say so!”

  “THEN SAY SO RIGHT NOW!” I argue, trying to think about anything but Peep sugar shmegma.

  With a sigh, she finally gives us the okay. “Open your eyes!”

  For the next couple of minutes, we all go through our baskets, oohing and ahhing over everything inside of them. We don’t just get chocolates and candy for Easter; we get stuff. Lots and lots of stuff. My basket is filled with my favorite makeup, perfume, shower gel, some new earrings, bath bombs, nail polish, and all sorts of things she knows I love.

  Once I get through everything, I look over at Sam and can’t stop smiling at how excited he is as he pulls stuff out of his basket. This is his second Easter with our family, and he still acts like a kid, practically bouncing up and down on the couch cushions.

  “Ohio State oven mitts, Ohio State magnets, a Cleveland Indians beer mug…oh, my God this is the best Easter basket I’ve ever se
en,” Sam exclaims.

  “Lube, condoms, porn…Beverly, you have outdone yourself this year,” Alex tells her, setting his basket on the floor and getting up from his chair to walk over and give my mom a hug. “How did you know I’d been coveting that DVD of midget porn?”

  “It felt a little strange buying something like that on a religious holiday, but I knew you’d like it,” she tells him.

  “You’re doing God’s work, Beverly, that’s all that matters,” Alex reassures her before going back to his chair.

  While Sam is still preoccupied going through his basket, I lean over towards Scheva who is sitting in a chair next to me pawing through her own basket filled with similar items as mine.

  “Hey,” I whisper. “Did you and Aunt Bobbie get everything set?”

  After I stuffed the Easter eggs with the little notes I’d written for Sam, I worried about how I would be able to sneak away from him and hide them at the church. Since my mom and Aunt Bobbie went over there at six this morning to hide all the candy-filled eggs, Scheva offered to go along and help, letting Aunt Bobbie distract my mom for a few minutes so she could go to a different part of the lawn and hide Sam’s eggs.

  “We’re good to go. You’re lucky I remembered to get my ass up and go over there this morning. I think I’m still drunk from the other night when you stuffed them,” she complains softly.

  “How much did you and Aunt Bobbie drink after I left?”

  “I don’t even remember you leaving, don’t ask me such complicated questions,” she moans.

  “Bev, I noticed you got me a lot of grilling items this year,” my dad states, holding up his basket. “Grill seasoning, new grill tools, a lighter for the grill…I’m assuming this means we’re grilling the pig, right?”

  The hopeful look in his eyes turns into something altogether and downright disturbing when Bacon comes squealing into the living room from the hallway.

  “If you ever wondered what your father looks like during sex with your mother, it’s probably the exact same look he’s giving that pig right now,” Alex tells me.

  “I didn’t, but thank you for that visual,” I complain.

  “Reggie, don’t you even think of coming near Bacon. We are NOT eating Bacon!” my mother shouts, scooping up the pig and cradling him in her arms. “Mommy got a fresh ham from the butcher yesterday and no one is going to tell Bacon that it may or may not be a relative, isn’t that right my little love muffin?”

  My dad mutters and curses under his breath as he slams his basket down to the floor.

  “Beverly, Jesus would want us to be happy. He would want us to eat Bacon on the day that He has risen!” he informs her.

  “Jesus was Jewish!” she fires back.

  “What’s that got to do with delicious bacon?” Alex argues, which earns him a pat on the back from my dad.

  “Everyone, get outside and get in the cars! We’re going to be late for church, and you all need Jesus!” my mom shouts before turning and stomping out of the room.

  “Is she planning on taking Bacon to church?” Sam asks, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from the couch.

  “My parents have been going to this church for forty years. Do you think my mother taking a pig to church is the strangest thing they’ve ever seen?” I ask him as he laces his fingers through mine and we make our way outside.

  Chapter 8

  Elbow Butt

  Sam

  Last year was my first Easter with Noel and her family, and the first time I’d ever stepped foot inside of a church. I was uncomfortable, to say the least, expecting lightening to strike as soon as I walked through the doors, but now, I actually kind of enjoy it.

  “You’re right, I think the smell of Easter lilies is my favorite thing about Easter mass,” I lean over and whisper to Noel, who’s sitting to the right of me, as I stare at the hundreds of bouquets of white flowers lining the aisles and covering the floor all around the alter.

  “Yep,” Noel whispers back with a terse nod, her nose crinkled up and her face pinched, almost like she doesn’t enjoy the smell at all.

  I open my mouth to ask her if she’s okay, when Alex bumps his elbow into my arm from the other side of me.

  “Hey, did you know if you take a close-up picture of the crease in your elbow, it looks like a butt?” he whispers, turning the screen of his phone around to show me the photo he just took as the organ starts to play.

  “Did you know we’re in the middle of church?” I whisper back in annoyance.

  “Whatever. I bet Jesus appreciates elbow butt. Hashtag, the more you know!”

  Scheva leans around him and shushes us as we stand when the priest starts to make his way down the aisle.

  “I’m so worried about Bacon. Do you think he’ll be okay? Maybe I should have stayed with him,” Bev whispers to Reggie from the pew behind us.

  Bev dropped the pig off in the children’s quiet room, a glass enclosed soundproof room at the back of the church, where a few members of the congregation volunteer to keep an eye on kids who are too young to understand how to behave in church, so their parents can peacefully enjoy mass. She got more than a few strange looks from other parents and the volunteers when she dropped him off, and I’m honestly surprised they agreed to keep him.

  “If any of those yahoos get any funny ideas about eating my pig, there will be hell to pay,” Reggie grumbles under his breath.

  “Don’t curse in church! And stop talking about eating our baby!” Bev scolds him as we all turn to watch the priest walk by us, swinging an urn from a chain.

  Smoke billows out of the urn as he passes, filling the church with the scent of incense, and I wrap my arm around Noel’s waist, pulling her against my side.

  “God, I love this smell.”

  Noel mumbles something, and I turn to see her grab a pamphlet out of the holder in the back of the pew in front of us and begin fanning her face. Sweat has broken out across her forehead and I watch her swallow thickly a few times before smiling up at me and nodding.

  “Yep. Great smell. One of my favorite Easter smells,” she agrees, quickly clamping her mouth closed when she finishes, fanning her face with the pamphlet even faster until the hair falling down around her face starts billowing around her.

  After the priest makes it to the front of the church and wishes everyone a Happy Easter, we all sit back down again, my eyes carefully watching Noel until Alex elbows me again.

  “So, I think I’m gonna do it, man. I’m gonna pop the question to Scheva today,” he whispers, leaning away from Scheva, who’s sitting on the other side of him.

  My head whips around to look at him in shock.

  “You’re going to ask her to marry you?”

  Alex pulls his face back and gives me a questioning look.

  “What? No. Threesome, dude. I’m going to ask her to have a threesome. Jesus, get your head out of the gutter,” he whispers with a shake of his head. “Hey, speaking of the gutter, have you ever Tripled yourself during sex with Noel?”

  When I do nothing but stare at him, he continues.

  “You know, where you shit, puke, and orgasm at the same time.”

  I shake my head at him in disgust, before whispering under my breath.

  “Lord, forgive my best friend, and if you strike him down, give me time to move away from him first.”

  Noel leans forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. I look away from Alex to quickly reach over and start rubbing small circles in the middle of her back, moving forward to whisper in her ear.

  “Honey, are you okay?”

  She nods without moving her head away from her hands, and I notice as I rub her back that she feels really warm.

  “I think the volunteers in the quiet room are pig prejudice,” Beverly whispers from behind us. “All of the kids are going to be making an Easter craft today, and they told me Bacon wouldn’t be participating. Can you believe that? I’ll be the only mother without an Easter craft after mass. I
should complain to Father Brian.”

  “Pipe down, woman. If anyone is complaining to Father Brian, it’s going to be me. You are breaking one of the Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not deny thy husband delicious bacon on Easter,” Reggie whispers.

  “Is it hot in here? It’s not just me, is it? It’s really hot in here,” Noel states softly, turning her head to look at me.

  Her face is pale and sweat dots her upper lip now. I’m starting to get really concerned that something might be seriously wrong with her.

  “When is it time to go up and get wine? I need a drink,” Aunt Bobbie announces, looking over at me from the other side of Noel. “I love church wine. It’s all warm and buttery.”

  “Oh, God,” Noel mumbles, pressing her hand against her mouth.

  She sits up and leans against the back of the pew, dropping her hand, closing her eyes, and taking a few deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

  Alex pokes his finger into my side and I turn away from Noel to scowl at him, but he doesn’t even notice.

  “Do you think I should propose instead of ask for the threesome?” he whispers. “I mean, I do already love everything about her, and she hates ninety-seven-percent of the things about me, so it’s kind of like we’re already married.”

  I roll my eyes at him and turn back to Noel without answering, grabbing her under the arm and helping her stand up along with everyone else in the room. She sways a little and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her tightly to my side.

  She looks up at me and gives me a reassuring smile, even though pieces of hair are now stuck to her sweaty cheeks and a bead of sweat drips down from her brow.

  “I think we should just leave and go home so you can rest. Skip the Easter egg hunt,” I tell her quietly.

  A look of panic washes over her face and she quickly shakes her head.

  “No! I’m fine, I swear. We can’t skip the egg hunt!”

  “You definitely don’t want to miss the egg hunt,” Aunt Bobbie whispers, giving me a wink. “Just ask Noel about the safety precautions of using those eggs when you get home. You know what, she’ll probably forget. I’ll write them down for you. Just don’t use flavored lube, especially the chocolate raspberry one. It’s extra gooey and sticky.”