Misdirectioned Resurrection

Meet Elmo. Elmo is a perky, red-haired parrot who lives behind a giant spotted mushroom on Prince Edward Island.

Each Easter, Elmo rides a broomstick to Spain to bring all the little Spanish parrots presents.

(He does this on behalf of the Easter Bunny, who handles the rest of the world just fine but is morbidly afraid of Spanish parrots.)

Elmo speaks no Spanish, but his cat Santa Maria does; Santa Maria also speaks a little of that African clicking language and is fluent in Russian.

Elmo always remembers to bring Santa Maria with him when he goes to Spain on Easter so they can communicate with all the Spanish parrots. Santa Maria doesn’t always translate accurately, but it doesn’t matter because Elmo doesn’t know what anyone is saying anyway.

One Easter Sunday, Elmo and Santa Maria board the broomstick, consulting Elmo’s magic Rubik’s Cube for directions and weather reports. (It takes a really long time to fly to Spain).

Upon arrival in Spain, Santa Maria quickly discovers that the locals don’t understand her, even though she and Elmo were just there last year and could communicate with everyone then just fine.

Elmo and Santa Maria sit down in a garden of poppies to ponder the situation. Santa Maria spots a single polished leather cowboy boot with a shiny spur attached and investigates the scene.

Just then, Elmo happens to glance up and is amazed to see the trees full of fish, perched on nearly every branch.

“That’s why!”

Santa Maria has climbed inside the cowboy boot and is spooked by Elmo’s sudden exclamation, but keeps her cool with the care of a cat. “What?”

Elmo grins. “The very presence of tree fish means we’re in Greece! There aren’t any tree fish in Spain, or anywhere else, for thousands of miles!”

Boy, do they feel silly for the mistake. What a relief to know that everything is going to be okay!

Santa Maria returns to Elmo with a yellowed piece of paper in her paw. "I found this in a cowboy boot," she says.

Elmo studies the paper. "It's a map of Greece!"

Elmo and Santa Maria do the Grecian happy dance. Loading up the broomstick, they take one final look around and see that though Grecian flying fish may live in the trees, they are yet immersed, swimming in bathtubs or snorkeling in jacuzzis - cradled steady by strong Grecian branches whistling Dixie into this Day of misdirectioned Resurrection.