and on the 13th day he'll rise
No, don't go. Don't run. Ah, away you go then. Do I look like I care? I'll just happily meander behind you and wait for you to trip over the nothing that's in your way. See...there you go. You do know what day it is, don't you? Is it Friday? Is it the 13th? Is it Friday the 13th? No. No, it is not. That means it's one of my many days off. I'm not working. I'm here. For Easter. Having a Frolic.
When I do work I do enjoy the carefree side of it. Getting out into nature. Striding through the trees. Breathing in that fresh crystal clear air. You couldn't really call me a workaholic since it's hardly even work. Maybe I'm a workafrolic.
You'd think being someone who rises from the dead I'd get a bit more respect on a day like this. But no. Here I am hopping around the woods, with my eggs and my ears looking like the biggest numpty in the numptysphere and what happens? Oooh, there's the big machete wielding maniac lets run away. Aaaah he's got some chocolate wrapped in shiny foil that he could sharpen to a point and stab me with.
Hmmm. Note to self: learn how to cause death by chocolate.