The Worse Thanksgiving Dish Ever


My wife Julie bought me this beautiful book as one of my presents for my 50th birthday. It is for writers and gives 642 one line sentences or questions and you have to do the rest…write about it. At first I didn’t know how it worked. Do I write as a third party? The answer was just write. Do I write as myself? Just write. Do I write fiction or fact? Just write. And so I wrote. It is the most beautiful gift I have ever been given and I really enjoyed my first page. It stretched my imagination and capabilities. Here is the third thing ‘I wrote.’

The Worst Thanksgiving Dish You Ever Had;

Jeez an easy one. Ma and Pa were at it again. The old man drinking too much watching the game before the bird is even out of the oven. Ma sees red and pulls the plug. The bird freezes to death. No point even setting the table as we hear mum in the kitchen yank out the corkscrew on her third bottle of Blue Nun. Before we move to the next level I spare my kid brother the blushes of hearing her curse under her breath. With that kind of language Blue is the only Nun she will ever be acquainted with. I steal a glance at my snoring, farting pop. He is out for a least another three hours. Turning to my baby bro (huh, ‘baby’. He is ten and has seen enough for a fifty year old).
“Come on kid, I’m buying.” He doesn’t reply, just zips up his parka and we hit the cold city streets in search of nutrition.

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