By Rob Kinnaird
My daughter is brilliant. I remember when she made her first nuclear reactor at only 15 years old. Now I pay her for my electricity bill. She terrifies and inspires me daily. Last week, on Palm Sunday, she came to me and said, “Father I understand you plan on maintaining the barbaric tradition of hunting the unhatched offsprings of birds for the anniversary of Jesus Christ’s scientifically improbable resurrection. I shall not deny you your simple pleasures or your foolish faith, but just know that if these eggs are not well hidden… There will be consequences.”
Last time she said something like this was over Thanksgiving. I burned the turkey and she hacked into my bank account and transferred everything to her personal savings. Now I have to take loans out from her. God I’m so deep in debt to my perfect daughter.
I’ve spent this week creating puzzle boxes, booby traps, and complex mazes, scattering eggs all over the tristate area. I have spent months painstakingly painting them all to be perfectly camouflaged in various environments. I’m shit at art so this took quite some time. I have also hired private security forces and told them to shoot to kill. They will likely all perish. She claims she will be able to find all 100 eggs within 24 hours. I fear the consequences I will face if she is correct.
Now on the other hand is my son. I’m gonna be honest he got my genes. Kid’s just dumb as hell. Last year I put a single ostrich egg in the middle of our garden. He came back from the hunt with our neighbors mailbox and a stray cat. He said they should both count as easter eggs because they both contain delicious treats. I then watched on in horror as he ate a large pile of envelopes and the insides of the cat. My dumb, hungry son frightens me so. I am forced to homeschool him, as the last time he was with other kids he ate one. His brilliant sister covered up the crime, but I worry that the FBI is getting close to figuring us out. Hiding my son’s unending hunger has been her greatest challenge yet.
For his hunt I shall be constructing a large paper mache egg and filling it with his favorite delicacy: rats. I will be placing it in the backyard and spraying it with fresh blood, as he mostly tracks his food down by scent alone. Plus that’ll dye it red! Perhaps this will finally be the year that I best my daughter, perhaps the year that my son does not consume a neighbor’s pet. We can only hope. Have a happy Easter everyone, and pray for me.