Down goes Miss Bunny

There was a Miss Bunny in my life. If you don’t know who Miss Bunny is then you need to listen to the Eddie Murphy skit about his aunt, Miss Bunny, who came over to the house every year and promptly fell down the steps.

His father used to get mad every time Aunt Bunny fell. It struck a chord with me because I witnessed his skit years before as a child.

Eddie Murphy’s Miss Bunny was fat and whenever she fell down the steps, she somehow did it in slow motion screaming: “Oh Lord Jesus Christ. God help me. I am falling.”

Every year my grandmother and aunt forced me to go to a fashion show in the Boston-Edison Mansion of State Representative David S. Holmes. Sharply dressed men and women slowly walked down a beautiful carpeted staircase in high heel shoes and newly released dress shoes.

Every year somebody stumbled down the stairs, sending a gasp through the crowd. One year it was Aunt Charity’s turn to fall. And I got slapped for it.

Over weight Aunt Charity sported a regal look as she emerged from one of the upstairs bedrooms that were used as a staging area for the models. I was nine years old at the time. When I saw her walk to the staircase I thought how good she looked.

She knew she was smoking. Aunt Charity turned up her nose and began her descent down the stairs. I think her ankle buckled. Aunt Charity disappeared from my view as she went tumbling down the stairs. Like Aunt Bunny it took Aunt Charity forever to fall down the 15 steps to the bottom.

“Oh my God. Lord in heaven. I am falling,” Aunt Charity screamed. “God help me. Jesus help me. I am going to die.”

And she kept falling and falling and tumbling and tumbling down the stairs. It seemed like a half hour of tumbling and calling for the Lord before she reached the bottom of the stairs.

The audience gasped. I laughed. My grandmother stormed over to me and slapped me.

“What’s so funny boy,?” she said. “Your Aunt Charity could of died.”

First of all Aunt Charity was not a blood relative. We called every elder Aunt or Uncle. Secondly, I told my grandmother that you cannot die falling down a flight of stairs. She said that wasn’t true and spent the next month sending me articles of people who died while falling down the steps.

That was quite the accomplishment considering we did not have the Internet back then. But we had Jet magazine which had every bizarre story imaginable along with the beauty of the week.

Grand mom was really mad. I think she was more embarrassed than angry because Aunt Charity was her girl and I laughed at her.

“Why did you laugh,?” she demanded to know. “That’s not funny.”

I remained silent for a while. Finally I mustered up the nerve to say: “Cause it was funny.”

I got slapped again.

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Published by terryfoster8

I am a 58 year old retired sports journalist, husband and father of two living outside of Detroit in search of his next big adventure in life.

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