© 2008 North Star Writers Group
Gather Round, Children, For the Story of Thanksgiving
Gather round, boys and girls. It’s time for Uncle D.F. to tell you the story of Thanksgiving.
Now, in American history, we had pilgrims and Indians. The pilgrims were white people who came from Europe looking for freedom and opportunity. The Indians came from Cleveland and kept telling stories the pilgrims figured had something to do with their belief in some ancient god.
“They kept saying their river caught on fire,” said one of the pilgrims. “Like that could ever happen. And he kept talking about some Chief Kucinich. He sounds weird.”
Anyway, when the pilgrims arrived the Indians didn’t like it at first because the last Europeans also came to Ohio – Columbus, specifically – and made all kinds of trouble. The pilgrims wanted the Indians to know that they were different, so they offered to have the Indians come over for dinner.
“This is what we call turkey, kemo sabi,” said the leader of the pilgrims.
“What do you think, we’re some sort of idiots or something?” said the Indian chief. “We know what a freaking turkey is.”
This is going well, thought the pilgrim leader, figuring he might want to change the subject.
“We like to stuff our turkey to make it more interesting,” the pilgrim leader said. “We stuff it with breadcrumbs, cut up celery and toxic mortgage assets. It gives it sort of a bearish taste.”
The Indian chief turned to his assistant and said, “If they’re all like this, I don’t think we have anything to worry about. They’ll probably kill themselves inside of a month or two just by falling into holes and crashing into trees.”
The assistant nodded.
“Me agree, chief,” he said. “But don’t sayum anything until they serve us the mashed potatoes and gravy.”
The chief slapped his assistant upside the head.
“Sayum?” he said. “Since when do you talk like that?”
“I learned it on Featherbook.com,” the assistant replied. “I’m friends with these Hurons from up in Michigan. They have all this lingo.”
The pilgrim women came out of the kitchen carrying a huge platter with a big, stuffed, dressed turkey on it. Why the turkey was dressed in stilettos and a halter top, I’ll never know, but it still looked very delicious.
“Would you and your tribe like the drumsticks, chief?” said the pilgrim woman.
“All you white people think we do nothing but march around beating war drums, don’t you?” said the chief. “Drumsticks indeed!” Read the rest of the story at North Star Writers Group