TCPS Tales

Thanksgiving Day Disaster

“Can you see anything?”

Twelve-year-old Talon shook his head and crawled closer to the kitchen doorway. His hands and knees objected to the hardness of the wood floors, but he kept soldiering on. He had a mission and he wasn’t going to let his dad down.

A loud bang followed by a louder curse made Talon jump back. He looked over his shoulder at his dad whose face mirrored his own feelings.

Fear.

Another loud crash made Talon scramble back to his dad. He quivered as a shrill cry of frustration filled the air. What exactly was happening in there? It sounded like his mom was waging war on the kitchen and losing…badly. 

“The situation is worse than I initially thought,” his dad said as they huddled together in the family room. “We need to made an offensive play and fast. We don’t want a repeat of Labor Day.”

They shuddered. Food poising wasn’t pleasant in the best of circumstances, but it was especially bad when one had to wrestle the pastor of the local church for use of the bathroom. Who knew a man of God had such sharp elbows?

“Maybe Aunt Deena will bring extra food.” Usually Thanksgiving was at his aunt’s house, but this year his mother was determined to host the event. Everyone was terrified to come, but no one had the heart to tell her no.  

His father gave him a resigned look. “Your mother called and told her specifically not to bring anything.”

“N-Nothing?” Talon stuttered, grabbing his stomach. He tried to think if he had any Peeps stashed in his closet.

“Not even a pie.”

Talon whimpered. He was really looking forward to the pie. “What do we do?”

His father sighed. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but it looks like we have no choice.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out several take-out menus. “Circle which ones you want and I’ll place the order.”

“But what about the stuff” —he refused to call it food—“she’s making right now? How will we get rid of it?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the loud din of pots and pans clanging.

“Dad,” Talon groaned. “I can’t do that again.” After “accidently” knocking over the food onto the floor, his mom turned into a one-woman waterfall. “I can’t take the tears.”

He put his hand on Talon’s shoulder. “There’s a time in every kid’s life when they have to make a tough decision. This is one of those times. Think of the big picture, Talon. A few tears versus a night in the emergency room.”

“Fine,” Talon pouted, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument, “but I’m blaming you if she finds out. I’m not running up the stairs again.” The thought made his stomach clench in misery.