Chocolate Jesus

Chocolate Jesus


Believe me, I know my title is the same as a Tom Waits song…who would know that better than me? Just part of what I remember as I look back at Easter as a child and how weird all of it seemed to me.

First of all the first time you’re told about the reason for the holiday. There’s this guy Jesus and he’s the son of god. Then because he is the son of god, a group of people get pissed at him and kill him by nailing him to a cross…then he comes back from the dead.

“Whoa, wait a minute…he comes back from the dead? He’s a zombie? A Vampire?”

“No, he’s still just Jesus.”

“But, he came back from being dead? Are you sure this isn’t why we celebrate Halloween?”

So, now we have to figure out a way to celebrate the walking dead. What should we do? We’ll color some eggs…Yeah, that sounds reasonable. A guy gets killed, comes back alive, we should color some eggs…and that’s what we did. Saturday night before Easter, we would hard boil and dye eggs. All I remember is the smell of the vinegar you use to get the dye to stick.

Just like the smell of pine reminds you of Christmas, eggs and vinegar will always remind me of Easter.

Now, what do we do with the eggs?

Put them in the refrigerator. Ok, that makes sense.

Of course they didn’t stay in there. That’s because during the middle of the night a giant rabbit would break into our homes and steal the eggs out of the refrigerator.

Between giant rabbits, the drunken fat guy in the red suit, the fairy that took teeth from under our pillows, how the hell did we ever fall asleep as children?

Anyway, the giant rabbit would hide the eggs all around the house, hoping we wouldn’t find one or two and they would get pretty ripe around July.

So, you spend hours taking the time to color eggs and them some asshole rabbit just scatters them all over the place. What kind of way is this to celebrate the living dead?

I guess I should mention that the giant rabbit would leave us baskets of candy. Not just any candy, it was made to resemble something.

There would be a chocolate rabbit in a basket of grass, surrounded by Jelly Beans, which were obviously meant to be the rabbit’s droppings.

Everything is ruined here. I like Jelly Beans but, not when they represent rabbit turds, it’s hard to get rid of that image while you’re eating them. Not to mention the chocolate rabbit with its eyes open and staring at you, daring you to take a bite.

If that wasn’t disgusting enough, there were the chocolate crucifixes. What kid wouldn’t love to eat a dead guy on a cross? I remember getting a white chocolate Jesus on the cross one year. I haven’t been able to eat white chocolate again to this day. That image lingers in my mind and makes that delicious chocolate taste like dead body and wood.

This is no holiday for children.

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