Prefatory Note: Happy Weekend before Easter everyone! You might figure out from the context clues what I’m planning to do this weekend.—CLS

Sheriff Roy Templeton leaned back in his creaky office chair, sipping coffee that tasted like it’d been brewed in a tractor engine. It was Good Friday in Mud Lick, Alabama, and the town was buzzing with anticipation for the annual Easter egg hunt. Kids were primed to scramble across the field behind First Baptist, chasing candy-filled plastic eggs, while parents prayed the sugar high wouldn’t last past supper.

Roy, being the sensible sort, had no intention of attending—crowds of sticky-fingered young’uns weren’t his idea of a holiday. Besides, he’d rather be home leveling up his base in Crashlands 2, but duty had a way of dragging him into messes he’d prefer to avoid.

The phone rang, shattering his brief daydream of alien crafting grids. “Sheriff’s Department,” he grumbled, already sensing trouble.

“Sheriff Roy, it’s Pastor Jim,” came the frantic voice on the other end. “We got a situation at the egg hunt field. You better get down here quick—Leroy Buckshot’s gone full doomsday on us!”

Roy sighed, picturing Leroy—a wiry, camo-clad prepper who’d once tried to trade a live possum for a case of MREs at the Piggly Wiggly. “What’s that fool done now?”

“He’s dug trenches, Roy. Trenches! Says the Easter Bunny’s a deep-state operative planting mind-control devices in the eggs!”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be there in ten.”

When he rolled up in his cruiser, the scene was pure Mud Lick chaos. The field, usually a patchy stretch of grass, now looked like a war zone. Leroy had carved jagged trenches with a backhoe, strung barbed wire between rusty stakes, and was pacing the perimeter in a ghillie suit, clutching a megaphone. A dozen kids stood on the sidelines, clutching baskets, while their parents hollered threats Leroy didn’t seem to hear. Deputy Ernesto Miranda was already there, arms crossed, watching the madness unfold like it was a reality TV pilot.

“Sheriff Roy!” Leroy bellowed through the megaphone as Roy stepped out of the cruiser. “You’re just in time to see the truth! These eggs ain’t candy—they’re surveillance drones! I cracked one open, and it’s got wires!”

Roy glanced at the plastic egg Leroy waved like a grenade. A faint glitter trail spilled from it—probably some cheap toy from the dollar store. “Leroy,” Roy said, voice flat as a pancake, “that’s a confetti egg. Miss Mabel’s been stuffing ‘em with glitter since the Nixon administration.”

“Lies!” Leroy shouted, eyes wild. “The government’s been dosing us with glitter to track our thoughts! I seen it on YouTube—Redneck Patriot Truth Hour!”

“Uh-huh,” Roy muttered, wondering if Flux would ever add a “deal with unhinged preppers” mission to Crashlands 2. He’d pay good money for that patch. “Leroy, you’re scaring the kids. Put the megaphone down and step away from the barbed wire before I have to cuff you in front of Jesus and everybody.”

Leroy hesitated, then doubled down. “This is my land, Sheriff! I got squatter’s rights! Easter’s canceled ‘til I neutralize the threat!” He yanked a homemade smoke bomb from his vest and lobbed it into the nearest trench. A plume of gray smoke billowed out, smelling like burnt tires and regret. The kids shrieked, parents cursed, and a stray dog bolted off with an egg in its mouth.

“Lord help us,” Roy said, nodding to Ernesto. “Get the net.”

Ten minutes later, Leroy was hog-tied in the back of the cruiser, ranting about 5G bunnies while Ernesto dusted glitter off his uniform. The egg hunt was a bust—half the eggs were smashed in the trenches, and the other half were now “evidence” in Leroy’s conspiracy. Pastor Jim promised the kids an extra sermon on forgiveness, but their wails suggested they’d rather have the candy.

Back at the station, Roy filed the report, muttering about the paperwork. “Shoulda stayed home,” he said to no one in particular. “Coulda been crafting a plasma rifle right now instead of babysitting a prepper with a shovel.” He glanced at the clock—still time to salvage the evening. Mud Lick could survive one Easter without him.

Yeah. My in laws are coming in next weekend so Happy Easter to you and yours!

See y’all in two weeks!