Saturday, April 08, 2006

Yo, Easter Peeps

The thrillingly Christian holiday known as "Easter" will be upon us in a matter of days and yours truly is preparing vigilently because I will have no family members in the area in which to celebrate with.

Now usually, when a family holiday such as this arrives and my family members are no where in the vicinity, I would commence doing what I usually do.

I like to call it the "Stacy Anti-Depressant Initiative."

It's simply really.

I begin by throwing off all my clothing into various corners of my overpriced bedroom until I'm completely naked.

I know. Eww, gross.

To quote past girlfriends: "It's like Gilligan and Pee Wee Herman had an illegitimate anorexic baby and then threw up on it."

I sure can pick 'em.

Once my clothing is wandering the floor aimlessly searching for fabric softener, I curl up in the fetal position. I grab a large bag of Cheetos and commence shoving them down my medicated gullet.

The capper to this entire event is my uncontrollable sobbing.

Neighbors who can hear me through the privacy muting wall usually call the Animal Shelter because they believe a small kitten is being sacrificed during their sacred holiday.

I usually wake up hours later with neon orange Cheetos powder all over my fingers and face.

I know. Eww, gross the sequel.

But this year I have developed a new corollary to the "Stacy Anti-Depressant Initiative."

I call it "Yo, Easter Peeps."

I purchase a dozen boxes of the prototypical all-American carb filled, calorie hogging Peeps.

On the morning of Easter, when everyone is enduring the company of relatives they only see twice a year, I will open each box quickly and with purpose. I will commandeer a portion of my bedroom floor and anal-retentively line them up in equal numbered rows and columns.

I will begin to play a premixed introduction (that I have voiced myself) to bring me on my virtual stage.

Massively over the top epic MUSIC begins to play as the closet door to STACY'S BEDROOM slowly opens to reveal the honored guest known as STACY WITHOUT AN E.

APPLAUSE can be heard thundering from the massive rows of expressionless PEEPS, each one as unresponsive as the next.

STACY WITHOUT AN E clears his throat annoyingly three or four times until he coughs up something small and brownish red from his lungs. STACY realizes that all the PEEPS are glaring at him, so he shoots his hand behind his back, landing the entire intestinal mess on the back of his suit.

(looking at the back wall of the bedroom)

Yo to you all, my fellow Peeps!

STACY glances around hoping for some acknowledgment as to the creativity of his pitiful pun, but as usual, to no avail.

Ahem, well, let me tell you why we're all here.

The dotted eyes and circular mouths of the PEEPS remain as they always have been.

Every year at this time, your kind are created in
mass quantities so the consumer may injest you.

STACY is gesturing wildly to no one in particular.

What a sad existence! Chomped down, sometimes head
first, other times at your behind, but always with total
disregard for your future!

STACY slams his fist down on a non-existent podium and falls to the floor.

The PEEPS stare emotionless at STACY'S antics as HE managed to slam his head into the slightly used nightstand his sister bought him many, many years ago.

As STACY regains consciousness, he looks up to see a majority of the PEEPS he had been speaking to just as they were, except a few in the front row are missing their heads.

(whispering to himself)

My God...the horror.

What happened next will be spoken of for numerous religious holidays to come.


Oh my God!!

STACY, ever the vigalent and compassionaite roommate, races to her side.


What's the matter? What's the problem?

STACY'S ROOMMATE'S eyes remain on the catbox in the bathroom and her voice is shocked as she speaks.


Cinder is crapping bright yellow!

The remainder of the story is quite fuzzy, but I believe STACY WITHOUT AN E, being of good cheer and melancholy, arranged the remaining PEEPS around the body of his roommate and took numerous photos.

Presently, we assume STACY is looking for a new place to reside.

The moral to this story...don't mess with the Easter Peeps yo.

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