With apologies to the late, great John Updike, this cyber silliness is a bit of Rabbit Redux. That’s a fancy, literary way of saying I’m too lazy to scribble anything new so I’m recycling…or, regurgitating, if you think it more aptly applies…the bulk of this Easter E-stuff. However, I have added pictures. So, there.
When I was a child, the Easter Bunny usually hid a basket filled with sweet stuff. As my brothers and I got older, the Bunny downsized to one solid chocolate Russell Stover rabbit per son. To this day, if we happen to be at Grandma’s for Easter, the Happy Hopper comes through.
There was one Easter when the Long-Eared Lurker went overboard. In addition to the candy, he or she or it left me a game of Skittle Pool! Now, my mom had always made it clear to the Festive Fur-ball that she wanted to make sure we kept the true message of Easter up front and the other traditions in the background so, when the Happy Hare dumped a full-blown game under the bed it was a shocker. In my experience, gifts of this magnitude would only appear at Christmas or for a birthday.
Today, say “Skittles” to a kid and they think of colorful little candies. However, when I was a punk, Skittle referred to a series of games based on the original meaning of the word: a game involving knocking down nine-pins with a little ball. There were all kinds of Skittle games: Skittle Bowl…Skittle Poker…Skittle Horseshoes…Skittle Tac-Toe…Skittle Bingo…Skittle Tennis…Skittle Score Ball. Another version Skittle Skillet, where you were supposed to crush the balls with a frying pan never really took off. By the way, if you type the word Skittle over and over, you will find yourself questioning your spelling abilities and then deciding there is really no such word as “skittle” before your knees cramp up and you black out.
The star of Get Smart, Don Adams, was the commercial spokesman for the Skittle games and was featured on the boxes. Part of the reason I had wanted Skittle Pool was because I liked Maxwell Smart. Also, our next-door neighbor, Mr. Moely, had a real pool table in his basement and he had allowed me to play a little. I fancied myself quite the pool shark. If not Minnesota Fats, at least Wisconsin Skinny. Now, we had something we called a carom game.
It was a board with four pockets, short sticks and a bunch of red and white plastic rings…sort of like you’d use to hang a shower curtain. It was fun but I could not quite see Paul Newman getting all bent out of shape over a rough day in the Carom Hall.
Skittle Pool was as close as I ever got to having a pool table and I played the game a lot. It was the kind of thing a kid could do without friends around. Another plus! Still, I never quite figured out why the Cunning Cottontail left me such an eggs-travagant gift. That’s why I wonder: At least for one Easter, Would you believe, Don Adams was The Easter Bunny!?
So, you’re wondering what Bunnies Marching Backward has to do with this digi-drivel? Well, on the way to work today, I actually saw a regiment of Easter Bunnies marching backward. Yes, it was a receding hare line.
This marks the silver anniversary of me using that lame joke at Easter time. I will keep using it until I am forcibly stopped. Then it will be history. Yes, I mean: Hare Today…Gone Tomorrow.