I blinked. I tried to say something, and couldn't.I almost left immediately.Inside the box was this velour bunny costume. This baby blue,sleeveless shortall thingy, with a white puffy tail. And a matchinghood that had long ears with flexible wires in them so you could adjustthem like the TV antenna style some people called, oddly enough, rabbitears. Mrs. McAvoy pulled it out and turned it around so I could drinkin all the fuzzy-wuzzy fucked-up-ness. Then she held it up against me,sort of sizing me up."I-Is this for me?" I asked. Evidently my expression was one of purehorror because Mrs. McAvoy's smile immediately vanished."Well, I thought..." Mrs. McAvoy said, her voice fading out.Sarah and her mom expected me to wear this horrible thing. But thatwas crazy. No non-mentally ill person would attempt to put Amy Komori,the cursing, completely evil, aggressive skating girl into a dippy,dorky bunny suit in a bad remake of the climax to "A Christmas Story,"only at Easter. I totally. I fantasized about eating her pink bikini panties, perhaps with a side of strawberry jelly. “You can close your mouth and stop drooling.” Lydia was addressing me. “That cunt has an owner.” To make sure I understood perfectly, she took three hours licking her lips. Well, it seemed like three hours, anyway. That’s when Josh walked in. He had stopped at the convenience store for some smokes, and stripped to his blue boxer-briefs. Lucy looked on with admiration. Her sister and Danny’s sister looked, and then went back to guzzling down beer. Introductions were repeated, along with an explanation of the brother-sister etc. set-up. “So you two swing from the other side of the plate,” Josh observed. “You know, I was a baseball coach in college. Interested in some instruction in switch-hitting?” Lydia had Lucy’s directness gene. “Go fuck yourself, jerk-off.” You couldn’t blame a guy for trying, About three or four decades later my erection had finally subsided; Paul had no such luck. Lucy.
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