Edward Snowden, An American Werewolf in Russia

The Puritans Did Not Escape Persecution So I Could Get Trapped Like This

It's 7 AM on a Sunday morning. From the looks of it, I should probably get a couple more hours of sleep.

But the minute I shut my eyes, what appears to be my phone goes off.

And who should it be but President Obama himself?

"Dude, aren't you overwhelmed with Presidential duties?" I ask. "Plus, all this long-distance calling is probably murder on your wallet."

"Edward, I'm the president, I can call whomever I want, wherever I want," he responds. "Be that as it may, Comrade Snowden-"

"Wait a minute," I interject, matter-of-factly. "Now you're doing it, dude?"

"Doing what?" he asks me.

"Calling me Comrade Snowden," I tell him. "You know, just like Putin does."

"He does?" says Obama, pure and utter shock in his voice. "Jesus. I knew he was going to do that to you!"

"Why?" I ask. "Doesn't that surprise you or anything?"

"I suppose not," he tells me. "In any case, we need to go over what you're going to say at this teleconference, and when it is. As it turns out, it's on December 7th...wait, no, I mean December 8th."

"Isn't that the day that John Lennon got shot?" I ask.

"Why, were you planning to go to a memorial of his or something?" he asks me, matter-of-factly.

"LOL," I respond. "But, he's a lot like me. You know, we're both enemies of the government, they're terrified of us, the works..."

"Find a great rock band, then maybe I'll let you make the comparison," he tells me.

They never let me appeal to go back the United States, not even to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. They do, however, compromise by letting me Zoom with my family. Mom and Dad are, of course, thrilled to see me, but even they know it's not the same.

To think, this is what the Pilgrims sailed for, nearly 400 years ago.

On a positive note, at least we get to celebrate with Jacob Littlefeather. To quote the man himself "Wouldn't be Thanksgiving without an Indian cooking it, now would it?" (He can say that because he's Native American, I can say that bnecause I'm quoting him after all.)

"Hey, Eddie," says Dad, calling from the kitchen as I watch them on the sceen. "Could you help me with the turkey here?"

"Why?" I ask. "You know I'm on the sother side of the planet here."

He says nothing, but merley stares at me. It's honestly really awkward.

"Ha ha. So funny I forgot to laugh," I continue.

"In any case, I really wish you were so that you could possibly use some of your new abilities to help me," he tells me.

"Yeah, right," I tell him.

"Hey, just be glad we're serving turkey and not wolf meat here," he tells me.You know, I'm no stranger to meat. Did you know that I once ate tiger meat?"

Dad stares in pure, unadultered shock. "Wolves do that?!! Woah, you learn something new every day."

"Indeed I did!" I tell him with a huge, shit-(okay, tiger-eating) smile on my face.

"I'm...honestly quite impressed," said Dad. "It always struck me the wrong way that you are a huge nerd. I always tried getting you into various sports, but you never cared for them...in fact, you were always picked last at the end of the day. And now, well...you're doing something that most jocks can't even do!"

"Dad, you're distracting me from this turkey," I say, juice spilling everywhere.

"Oh, sorry," I tell him.

And of course, Jenny here just HAD to bump in and make Dad spill turkey juice everywhere.

"Oh, hey, older borther," she tells me. "What's up? What are you doing over there?"