(This is a work of fiction)
*
There is a lot to be said for thanksgiving. I mean it's the one holiday out of the year people come together, cook good food, try to be nice to one another and no one wants or expects anything from anyone except maybe a good meal. At least that's the myth behind it; the story of my family is somewhat different.
The Holidays around my house are a somewhat strange affair. It usually starts with my dad John buying all kinds of weird shit to put up in the yard. This thanksgiving its plastic turkeys and small Elmer Fudd size statues dressed as pilgrims, about a dozen of each. From what my mother and my sisters tell me he didn't really start it till I came along, some kind of turning over a new leaf type of deal. Whatever the reason behind it, it seems like every year since as long as I can remember he's been putting stuff up and then he's constantly at war with the neighborhood kids.
When I was little it was rocks, and as the years progressed it's been a variety of objects and different forms of vandalism. It's almost as if its target practice for anyone with a strong arm or trying to improve their shooting skills. Slingshots, baseballs, kickballs, and just this year, paintballs, it's become almost a kind of a tradition. I can almost visualize it in my head, other dad's around the block saying to their sons "Don't forget to practice for next season, you've got a perfect target gallery across the street, do me proud boy!" And off they go to wreak havoc on our grass destroying my Dad's plastic display of the holiday. But that's just one part, on to the rest.
My Mom Janice and my sisters, Tiffany and Karen, on the other hand are always busy looking for a new way to cook. That's not to say they are kitchen type's, far from it, but they still try and last year it wasn't so bad, at least no one lost a tooth from weird objects floating in the gravy (unlike a few years ago). I'm just hoping it's edible, if not I hear the Chinese place is open down the street, thank god for chicken lo mien.
My name is David and being the youngest at 18 is somewhat a disadvantage, my two older sisters for one. Growing up was a pain in the ass and now with them home for the holidays for a whole 2 months (you would think they would go have families of their own instead of freeloading off our parents) I can only imagine the remarks that will be incoming. Mainly about my love life (they still think I'm a virgin, at 6'2", 185 lbs of muscle, with brown hair and green eyes I have had quite a few sexual adventures), what my future prospects will be (working at the pizza place), and of course how I'm not going to get into any 4 year college (I've already been taking classes at the local community college).
So here I sit, up in my bedroom, browsing the net, listening to some music as my mind turns over all the wonderful holiday events yet to unfold.
'Happy fucking Thanksgiving' I say to myself.
***
Ya gotta wonder just how in the hell people come up with this shit. I'm standing out in the backyard, freezing my ass off (35 degrees, no snow yet though thank god) and looking at my dad trying to set up a deep-turkey-fryer (one of those ya see on infomercials). He's got a propane tank and 5 gallons of peanut oil sitting there while he's putting the hoses on the right valves while reading the instructions.
My Dad is an intimidating guy, big hands, big frame, black hair, green eyes and 6'3" tall. At least to strangers, but once ya get to know him you realize he's a pretty nice guy, at least to everyone that doesn't deface his front lawn. I guess that's why Mom fell for him, that and the fact that he keeps himself in shape. It's almost a miracle at 45 he hasn't become one of the potbelly-pro's of middle age (considering he works in an office). I guess the gym membership he's had for years has helped, strange.
Now my Dad has a funny way of looking at things, he naturally assumes that since I'm his son I will do everything he does if I see him and help him do it. In a few ways he would be correct (for instance changing the carburetor on an old '78 pickup, well there's only one right way to do it) but in some cases we just don't see things eye to eye. This whole frying the turkey deal is one of them, I'd be happy with something non-food poisoning from the oven, but to Dad it's something new for the holiday so it's important to him.
Finally he set the pot on the burner and stood up looking over at me after getting the hose attached and tinkering with the burner dial.
"Ok David, turn on the gas."
I walk over and turn the valve and hear the gas hissing out below the pot. Mt dad starts fidgeting with the dial on the hose and the hissing stops.
Getting out his matches he bends down to look under the pot at the burner before he lights it.
"Dad..." I say to get his attention.
"What?" he asks, still looking at the burner while getting a match out, about to strike it.
"You really shouldn't be that close when you light it" I said.
"No it'll be ok son, as soon as the gas comes on it will light, trust me." He said on one elbow thumbing the switch to turn on the gas and then lighting a match.
I had already reached into my pocket and dialed 911 and held my thumb on the send button, just hoping I would be able to press it before flames engulfed us both.
"Dad, you really shouldn't be that close." I said again, trying to keep him from an ER visit today.
"Hush David, your old man knows what he's doing." He said just as he was putting a match to the burner.
One big whoosh later (it had engulfed his head but thankfully it didn't catch) he was getting up and slightly shaken looked over at me with a grin.
"Told ya it would work boy." He said still grinning.
I just shook my head and activated my camera phone, pointed it at him and snapped a picture. Giving it to him he just looked at it for a minute then felt around on his face, in particular where his mustache used to be, or what was left of it (along with part of his eyebrows).
"Well, fuck it, I been meaning to shave it off anyway." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he handed the phone back to me.
Taking the phone back I slipped it back into my pocket as he picked up the oil and started pouring it into the pot.
Halfway full he stopped and put the oil back down and put the lid on. Asking him why he did that he said so the oil will heat up faster. Which kind of confused me, as I thought this way just him putting it together and doing a test run, but apparently he was getting it ready to cook.
Trying to be diplomatic with my words (he had almost set himself on fire once already) I tried a new approach.
"We need to save the gas don't we Dad? We know it will cook, why not wait for tomorrow before we crank it up full blast eh?"
"No, no, I'm gonna cook one today, Bob at work says deep-fried turkey is delicious and I want to try some today." He said picking up his few tools on the ground.
"How many turkeys did Mom buy?" I asked confused. I had gone with her to do the shopping because she always needs help unloading the car and knows I like to avoid it if I can. So she drags me to and from the grocery store with her so she can make sure I help. I knew she had only bought one three days ago.
"She only bought one but I'm gonna get another one, you stay here and watch the burner, shut it off if you have any trouble." He said as he started walking towards the garage door.
Looking at my Dad in disbelief as he went into the garage I reached down and turn off the burner just as I hear his old pick up crank up and start to back out of the driveway. No way am I standing out here for over an hour while he tries to wade through the holiday shoppers at the grocery store (not to mention the only store that would still have turkeys is 30 miles away).
Walking back inside through the garage it felt good to have heat on my skin again, it had already turned slightly chapped from the dry wind, typical for a winter in Colorado.
Walking into the kitchen from the garage I see my Mom and my sisters busy looking over different recipe books and commenting on different ones they would like to try as I stand there and take off my sweat shirt.
The women looking up at hearing me enter and seeing me remove my shirt started giggling.
Now I gotta say my mother is one hot lady at 42 years old. Ever since I can remember I have been fascinated by her tits, big 38 DD's, there's just nothing better than big tits, the fact that they were on my mother made them even more desirable. With shoulder length brown hair and laughing brown eyes standing at 5'1" she was the picture of a housewife in her floral print dress.
My sisters on the other hand didn't have much in the cleavage department; I guess it must be a youth thing.
Karen, the oldest at 22, was only 5' tall and had smallish b-size tits, but she did have mom's hair and eyes and she was very cute. Today she had her hair in a braid that went all the way to the small of her back.
And Tiffany, 21, standing at 5'5", strangely enough, is a blonde (it must be from our grandparents, gramma Edna has a blonde hair), she only has mom's eyes and certainly doesn't have her tits, Tiff is only an A cup, but to her credit (and I hate to admit this) she does have an ass on her and keeps her hair in a short pixie cut that makes her look really hot. But the main thing I disliked about was her mouth, it wasn't the form, but the way she used it.
"Sorry little bro we don't have any ones, you might wanna check down the street, Mrs. Miller and her daughter love male strippers so we hear." She said laughing.
My Mom and Karen both started laughing at that, what was so damn funny I have no idea, must be a woman thing I thought.
"Sorry sis, I don't think they like chest hair, but from what I hear you love it, so it's a freebie this time." I said grinning, making a subtle reference to her ex, the hairy guy that looked like he belonged on a wild kingdom re-run.
At that Mom and Karen laughed harder and even Tiff laughed a bit at that one, but I could tell from the way she glared that she didn't like it all that much, she was just trying to avoid embarrassment.
Grinning, I started up the stairs to my room when suddenly I hear Dad's pick up in the driveway.
What the hell? I thought as I walked back down and saw him coming to the front door.
Shit I said to myself as I race to the backdoor in the kitchen with my mother asking me what's wrong. Stopping to pull the sweat shirt over my head I quickly explain that dad asked me to watch the burner for him while he went to the grocery store.
Shrugging into it just as my dad walks into the kitchen I start to open the door to go back out when he stops me.
"David, your gonna have to go, I gotta stay here with the burner, gotta make sure it doesn't catch anything on fire." He said kind of half turned towards the stairs.
My Mom looking over noticed a bit of soot on the side of her husband's head.
"Why can't you just go John? And what is that on your face?"
John still looking away mumbles something about needing to shower and shave and trudges up the stairs.
Mom looked over to me and asked what was that all about.
Knowing when to keep my mouth shut (he pays my tuition after all) I just shrug my shoulders and head outside to take the trip to supermarket hell.
