Thanksgiving Love

Introduction: The following was relayed by the fly on the wall. Note that this would be the same courageous yet depleted fly that zips from wall to wall whenever he hears someone exclaim, “I’d like to be a fly on that wall.” According to the fly, this brief segment typifies Thanksgiving meal conversations overheard from wall to wall throughout the country.

Junior: Put some turkey on my plate, you bastard.
Stevie: Are you calling me a turkey?


Junior: No, I’m calling you a bastard.

Stevie: Okay. White or dark meat?

Mama Dolores: That’s enough boys. You’re grown men now. Quit the squabbling. Herb, stuff it! Stuff that turkey. It’s too dry, and you haven’t done a damn thing all day. Like father, like son. Junior, I remember when your cousin Mike made a pass at Auntie Mabel one fine Easter Sunday. You stood there like a dummy and didn’t say anything to protect her.

Junior: Ma, I was only 6 years old, and that was 35 years ago. Would you let it go, already!

Mama Dolores: Yes, 6, and a well spoken child, slender and fit, I might add. You just stood there like a bump on a log. It’s no wonder you can’t keep a good woman.

Papa Joe: Dolores, it would be nice if you took the cranberries out of the can and put them in a bowl for a change.

Mama Dolores: Excuse me?! You come strolling in here just three hours ago, turn on the boob tube, and tell me I need to do more work to satisfy your snoody-patoody tastes. I’ll tell you where you can put the damn cranberries! Sally, when is that loser of a husband of yours going to get here?

Sally: Ma, he’s sitting right next to me.
Mama Dolores: Oh, well in that case, have him pass the rolls. Wake him up first, would ya, it’s rude to sleep at the table! Let us all now join in prayer. Thank you Lord for this blessed meal with our loved ones.


The fly and this blogger: Wishing you a peaceful, non-typical start to the holiday season!