Slithering Through the Tulips

Slithering Through the Tulips

Snaky Johannson lived just outside the tulip patch, though he spent most of his time inside it. The tulip patch lived just outside the hamlet of Iversdale, and there, thrived for as long as anybody could remember, doted upon by the women as it was.

Snaky was a slithery snake, his shiny scales forever damp, and his long, tubular body glided easily across the ground and in between the tulip stems.

Looking so slippery and generally yucky, he made the women folk of Iversdale squeak and yelp when they saw him, and he liked it when they ran away shucking imagined snake slime off their arms and backs – as if from afar he could magically twine himself around their plump bodies and infect them with his snaky-ness. Just the same, it was such fun to watch.

It was Easter morning, and Snaky had plans. They were the same plans he had every Easter morning for as long as he could remember. If, once and for all, he could finally manage to catch and eat the Easter Bunny this year, he could spoil Easter in Iversdale forever after. Could there be a finer accomplishment? He thought not.

But the Easter Bunny was a wily sort, maddeningly happy all the time, so hippity-hoppity mirthful, and garrulous to the point of tedium. Snaky simply needed to eat him and be done with it. So what if the boys and girls of Iversdale could no longer have their brightly colored eggs and their delectable chocolate bunnies. Snaky never got any such thing. If he could make due without, so could those spoiled brats.

“Helloooooooo, Snaky. I've been just dying to see that delightful, snaky self of yours,” said the Easter Bunny, brimming with joy. “A whole year… much, much too long, don't you agree?”

Snaky flinched and swung around, startled. Gosh darn it! He'd snuck up on him again, just the way he did every year. Why was Snaky always getting lost in thought just when the Easter Bunny hopped along? Just once, couldn't he be prepared for the ambush?

“Oh, hello… ahem, Mr Bunny. Yes right, too long… I guess.” Snaky opened his mouth wide and instinctively flexed his fangs, and a drop of venom dripped out, looking just like a dew drop when it splashed on a tulip leave.

“Indeed, Snaky. You look positively radiant. I see you've been feeding well.” Mr Easter Bunny rubbed his rotund belly and chuckled knowingly. “What else is there, my friend, more important in life than a nibble or two of eggs and chocolate? Er... or whatever it is you snakes eat.”

Snaky soured and frowned at Mr Bunny, his chance to grab a nibble or two of mouth-watering Easter Bunny missed once again for the year. Of course, he could try to lunge at him right then, but that would do no good. The Easter bunny was hippity-hoppity quick on his toes, and then next year, he'd be privy to Snaky's intentions.

“Hmmmmmm? Well?” The Easter Bunny winked at him.

“Yes, yes, nibbles and bites,” said Snaky dismissively. “I guess you and your little kiddy friends never get tired of painted eggs and chocolate.”

“Oh no, Snaky,” the Easter Bunny chuckled gayly. “Not ever.”

“I wouldn't know, seeing how all I ever get are crummy insects and worms, and the occasional scrawny field mouse.” Snaky perused the Easter Bunny's plump, juicy body, smarting over his annual failure once again.

The Easter Bunny sidled up to Snaky, but not too close, and bent down toward him, as if to take the snake into his confidence. “Are you saying that you'd like a go-around with a rainbow painted egg or two? Or to take a notch out of a hollow chocolate bunny and have it melt in your mouth? Or perhaps you'd prefer a solid one? Yes, yes… that would be more to your fancy, no?”

Snaky's head perked up, his fangs tucking themselves back in their holsters. “You have goodies for me? Me, Snaky Johannson? The same snake you meet yearly on your way to Iversdale yet never offer a thing?” Snaky's heart beat with unexpected excitement. He'd never tasted chocolate before, nor brightly painted eggs hard boiled to perfection. The thought of them now made his tummy grumble with yearning.

“Oh my, dear Snaky,” sighed Mr Bunny, “but I must make do for all the boys and girls in town… and never has there been a surplus.” Then he patted his furry stomach, his huge Easter basket swinging back and forth on his arm. “But perhaps...”

There was the longest pause, and Snaky hung on those words seemingly forever, then bristled, suddenly sensing the Easter Bunny was teasing him.

“Perhaps?”

“No, no,” Mr Bunny thought better of it. “No, I dare say it couldn't be done. I thought perhaps there might be one little egg left, or a handful of jelly beans, or maybe even a chocolate bunny, but I'm loathe to get your hopes up. Perhaps I could find you a big, juicy earth worm instead? Now doesn't that sound… ahem, delicious?”

“Never mind,” said Snaky, deflated. This guy was getting ambushed and eaten next year, no if ands or buts about it! Snaky fumed at the merry bunny.

But the Easter Bunny suddenly couldn't contain himself and hopped up and down just then in a flurry of excitement. “Oh, goodness gracious, Snaky, it has been decided! One egg, five jelly beans, and one chocolate bunny for you. How does that grab you?” He beamed jovially, his two buck teeth shining in the sunlight.

“Really?” Snaky's excitement soared.

“Sure thing, my slithery friend… just let me make sure of one thing.”

“Yes? Yes?”

“Have you been good this year?” Mr Bunny grinned ear to ear.

Snaky slithered away angrily, smacking tulip stems as he went by, even knocking a few over. “I'll see you next year, Mr Bunny… and hopefully you won't see me first.”