A story from my childhood;

This memory was inspired by Paul Jessup via his twitter feed.

My mother liked to collect antiques, but we never had a lot of money so she would cruise yard sales and flea markets looking for finds.  This meant growing up I was drug along as well.  She would buy stuff, keep what she collected, and resell the rest st the Unionville flea market.  This open air flea market was held all summer long in an abandoned drive in, no shade so it was dusty and hot.

She had aquired a steer skull, with one horn up and the other curving down.  This was placed on her tables as what she referred as an “attention getter”.  It used to creep me out…all things skeletal used to creep me out. (those of you who know me now may be surprised to know this)  In the off season the skull sat on her hutch of brick-a-brack looming over us from its nook.

It was our tradition to hunt for hidden hard-boiled eggs(and baskets…but keep an eye on the egg thread.) on easter morning.  These were scattered about our house, the easy to find ones were for my younger sister while the more artfully hidden eggs were mine.  So  early one easter  morning I arose and entered the living room to blearily begin my hunt for eggs.

Half awake I rounded the corner of the wall that my mothers curio-hutch stood against and beheld the looming skull.  I stood there trying not to scream with mounting horror of the type that can only be had by a half awake child who realizes the steer skull is beholding him back.  for a few precious seconds that seemed an eternity the skull stared at me with lidless crazy, mismatched, pastel colored eyes.  I became fully awake before I actually screamed, thankfully realizing the truth of the matter.

My mother had decided it would be a fine jest to “hide” two dyed easter eggs in the skulls empty eye sockets.  I believe one was blue-green and the other was pink.  I was not amused.


2 responses to “Recollection

  1. see that’s the sort of story that would be retold at cult meetings of why easter is bad and why we don’t celebrate it. eh.
    the skull sounds pretty freaky for a kid, but running around a giant flea market sounds like fun. I was stuck in conneaut most of my early life, and forbidden all the pagan holidays (ie all holidays) so whenever christmas or easter would come around we wouldn’t visit my grandma so much since she had a tree and nativity scene and all that. I remember being worried that god would be angry cause one time i went and looked at my grandmas tree and the little ceramic baby jesus. I also was concerned he would know that i ate some easter eggs and be pissed or something.

    Hey how did you post this at 5:26 pm today? Are you from the future as well?


  2. I wasn’t allowed to run around, I had to sit by the big white wonder van. God is pissed at you..because he hates chickens and ceramics.


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