The Worst Thanksgiving Dinner Ever

So many people rattle on about the warm, fuzzy feelings they get every Thanksgiving, but not Henry. No. And that’s an understatement, if ever there was one.
In fact, since last year’s Thanksgiving, Henry doesn’t much talk about anything, really. You COULD say that Henry’s the silent type, and we’d all laugh at you. But then we’d also go pretty quiet, and it would feel awkward. Yeah. I reckon.
See, we ate Henry, last Thanksgiving. We cooked him. Then we ate him. It was a mistake, really. You probably think I’m crazy or something, but I’m not, really. We were gonna have turkey, from the butcher, in town, but Cookie, well, Cookie’s getting on in years, and doesn’t see so good no more.
So when Henry pulled up and died, the morning of Thanksgiving, right there at the back door, by the kitchen, probably from old age, or at least we hoped it was old age, see, Cookie thought that Ma had got the butcher to deliver a turkey to the house. What with Cookie being so old and everything. An’ she didn’t complain none, about the feathers, or anything, because Ma hates when Cookie gets in one of what Ma calls “one of her humours”. Cookie sure has a lot of humours, these days.
We ate Henry, ’cause Cookie’s old, and half blind, like Henry. Like Henry USED to be, before last Thanksgiving. Yeah, definitely last Thanksgiving was the worst dinner, ever, for Henry.
I didn’t like it much, neither.
©Dave Luis 2012. All Rights Reserved.

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