(Part 2 can be found here: http://theonlyjoe.wordpress.com/2012/09/14/sequel-to-a-certain-tale/)
Many years had passed since the Roasting of Laurum, nobody knew how many, but at any rate, it was twenty-seven.
After the fire, all that remained of Laurum Hills was strewn rubble, moist wooden planks, asbestos, and some of the less desirable pastries. Having nothing better to do in the middle of nowhere, the neighboring town of Ed scavenged the remains of the village and attempted to construct a casino with it. However, as they lacked the materials necessary for a casino, so they settled for a brothel. Sadly, the remains of old Laurum did not meet the safety standards for local whore-houses, and so the townspeople reluctantly used the materials to build an orphanage.
Although the population of Ed was very small (among other of Ed’s things), there was an exorbitant number of orphans, who naturally, had no good place to be put. Some historians have speculated that the reason for the astounding number of orphans is simply that the denizens of Ed hated children and would never tell their own children who their parents were. This was done mainly for fun and high spirits, but the cumbersome orphan population had gotten out of control. It’s all fun and games until you have to shovel your way through soot-stained orphans just to get to the coffee shop.
So, the orphans were then forcibly inserted into St. Ed’s Orphanarium and Gift Shop, away in old Laurum. This didn’t serve much purpose other than to get those filthy rascals out of the way, so naturally, it worked perfectly.
Now, as peace returned to Ed and the stench of unfed children dissipated, the townspeople–or “Eddies”– prepared jollily for Easter. Easter, of course, was a local pagan holiday meant to ward off the rabbit spirits who destroyed the infidel town of Laurum, just East of Ed. It is well-known legend that when rabbits have finished raiding a village, they leave behind their colorful eggs to spawn the next generation and claim the area back from the humans. Naturally, they refrained from attacking towns which already had a ready amount of eggs present.
And so, the local Eddies hurriedly planted as many blue, periwinkle, and aquamarine Easter eggs as they could in the ground, so they could trick the rabbits into letting them live another year.
BONG! BONG! BONG!
“Hey everybody, it’s twelve bong!” cried an unimportant Eddy somewhere. Twelve bong was when Easter officially began.
Giuseppe Gustavio, Sr., one of the esteemed town alcoholics, often wondered how the townspeople had found so many eggs for the occasion. Then he stopped wondering and passed out.
Soon, all the twenty-something college students and the elderly (which were the closest thing to children the town still had) then frolicked and searched for the eggs the others had planted yesterday.
“Mine’s blue!” said Chad
“Mine’s periwinkle!” said Magurtha
“Mine’s turquoise!” said Giuseppe Gustavio, Sr. after waking up for another round.
The townspeople all stopped their games and looked at Giuseppe with a strange curiosity. Not because he was covered in vomit or because he wept silently during town dances, but because they had not made any turquoise eggs.
“My god! What on earth is that?!” said whatsherface.
“It’s an Easter Egg, you buffoons! I know, I put it there myself!” slurred Giuseppe.
“Giuseppe, you crazed ragamuffin, we don’t make turquoise eggs! Where did you get that egg?!”
“Right, well, remember that orphanage we threw together way back when? With the wood and the bricks and the asbestos? Well, there so happened to be quite a few sturdy eggs mixed up in that jumblaheap and I just couldn’t let those pretty things go to waste. I even buried the rest of them around here to spare ye the trouble, but ain’t nobody ring me up a phone call! Hell, I don’t even have a phone, but it’s the thought that counts! Here’s your damn Easter eggs! There, happy?”
Oddly enough, it was not the Eddies who were happy, but the orphans way down the lane, who woke up to find absolutely no turquoise eggs around them, only the makeshift blue onions they had nailed together. Apparently that’s good enough for orphans, rabbits, and other degenerates.
This of course meant, that the people of Ed were not particularly happy, not happy at all. In fact, they weren’t feeling much at all, because they were dead. Or at least they would be very shortly. But, you know, you saw it coming, might as well go ahead and say it.
Suddenly, enormous columns of neon turquoise light spewed forth from the earth into the sky, colliding to form one blinding light. The earth trembled and the ground was rent apart in sudden blasts as the eggs hatched.
The high pitched screech was quite like a wail (the locals of Ed town colloquially call a wail-like screech a “scrail,” but what do they know?) and pierced the ears and souls of many an Eddy. Hairless beasts burst forth from the nether, newborn terrorbeasts known to some as “bunnies.” (This term “bunny” has a long and complicated history among the people of where ever this is. The most commonly accepted theory states that the word evolved from an old Eddish saying for “That which has not yet learned of mercy, and sinks its teeth into manflesh without flossing.” As to how this translates to “bunny,” nobody knows and it probably doesn’t. But it’s a theory, anyways.)
The bunnies emerged covered in a viscous red goop, breathing lightly, their limbs scrawny and shaking. They were weak and defenseless as could be.
Just kidding. They leaped forth as Montgomery the Old had done and bore holes through the hearts of the Eddies. Yadda yadda not a soul was spared.
The sun came up the next day and the newborn bunnies had emerged victorious, claiming for themselves the town of Ed, which they renamed M’thal’gr, meaning “town formerly known as Ed” in their native tongue.
Once again, off in the distance, the orphans at St. Ed’s Orphanarium were as happy as could be (which wasn’t very much, but at least they weren’t dead) when they heard a creaking and a knock at the door.
“Yes, my children, it is time. Come with me, it is tiiiiime.”
And it was little Giuseppe Gustavio Jr. opened the door to let him in.
(Part 4 can be found here: http://theonlyjoe.wordpress.com/2012/10/15/the-unwalking-old-man/)