Turkey, Absconded

"The best thing after Thanksgiving is the seven pm turkey sandwich."

"Ooo, I want one, too."

"Mhm. Grab plates and the bread. Did you see which container your mom put it in?"

"The white Corningware with the lid."

"There's just a leg and a wing in here."

"That's where she said the leftovers were . . . get out the way. Huh. Oh, maybe it's—Ew. Why did they leave the deep fried turkey?"

"Wait, she didn't take it? That was her goddamned turkey. Why the hell didn't she take it? I don't want that shit. I want my perfectly roasted leftovers."

"At least we didn't have to eat stuffing from inside the bird, that's so gross. I'm not seeing anything in here other than . . . Uh, mashed, that's the graaaavy . . . sweet potato casserole—which tasted kinda weird, by the way . . ."

"Yeah, I know. Not enough sweet potatoes, it called for five cups. Too sweet."

"She left her—why did she leave behind her giant tub of ambrosia salad?"

"—Probably so she had extra room! Did she steal the fucking turkey, Frank? Are you shittin' me? How the hell do we only have a leg, a wing, and her oily conglomeration? There were two whole-ass birds! Forty-four fucking pounds of turkey! You're telling me we have nothing for sandwiches?"

"Seems that way. You wanna try to pick through the scraps?"

"Oh, god, stop that. I'm gonna gag. I thought deep fried turkey couldn't be eaten as leftovers 'cause it got like this? Oh, blaaat, that's naaasty. Seriously, throw that shit away. No one's gonna eat that."

***

"Hey, Mom, did you see Cindy abscond with the leftover turkey?"

"Yeah, honey, sorry. I was in the kitchen helping clean up 'n she asked if I knew where you kept your containers. I got one and gave it to her. I thought she was packing it for Frank's lunches. She even took the carcass."

"His lunches weren't her top priority, clearly."

"Sorry kiddo. I didn't realize she was taking all of it. Who does that?"

"She didn't. She left us the scraps from her fried turkey, a leg and a wing."

"Didn't she make your neighbor fry that turkey?"

"Yeah, we tried to pay him as a thank you, but he wouldn't take it."

"How did she come to ask your neighbor to deep fry her turkey? That takes some serious balls."

"Balls for days, Mom, but that's a story for another time."

***

"Maybe she really did just think she was taking her share. Maybe your turkey was so much better than the fried that she felt compelled to abscond with the leftovers. She hasn't said shit since they left."

"There's no fucking way, Frank. She took three containers then made your dad help her carry boxes full of leftovers to the car."

"How do you know she took three, Sarah?"

"Do you see these? How many lids are in this stack?"

"Seven."

"Aaand how many containers?"

"Looks like three. So that's four containers, not three."

"Glad you can count. The other one is in the fridge with the leftover green bean bundles."

"What the hell? Why did she leave those? Oh . . . so that means you're missing three. Got it. I think she took the extra can of cranberry sauce too. Didn't you buy two?"

"I got two, yeah. She took the other one? What the fuck. —And, you know, there's the Ring."

"YOU HAVE HER ON THE RING? Send that shit to me, right now. I don't believe you."

"It's from when they ran to the car with the boxes! She even told someone she was 'just running stuff to the car.' Look! Turn the volume up."

"Oh my fucking god. I was hoping there was some other reason, or something, but they really did just leave with boxes of leftovers."

"AND THE CARCASS, FRANK. LOOK!"

"I offered them the carcass, 'cause we threw the fried one away. She wanted it for soup."

"Yeah, no, we weren't keeping that in the house. It stunk."

"Hang on, my phone."

"Is it ya mothah?"

"Yeah."

"Ask her how our leftovers are."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sarah."

"What?"

"Look at this."

"I made turkey salad with onions, grapes, celery and pecans. Lunch today probably. Already made the soup and there's still enough left over for some sandwiches"

"Are you shittin' me? She's texting you t'fucking brag about all the shit she's making with the absconded turkey?! Un-fucking-believable."

"I responded: must be nice, we threw ours away."

"You think she'll even answer? I can't believe anyone's this oblivious."

"I want to call her on it so bad."

"Why don't you? I mean, she stole like twenty some pounds of turkey. She had to think we owed her or something. No one does that shit. Steal leftovers, what an entitled-ass thing to do."

"I left you a leg and a wing too, do you still have those?"

"She 'left us?'" Don't show me any more. Jesus Christ, Frank. Next, she'll just say 'nice' so she doesn't have to admit she stole the whole goddamned turkey. Who even does that?"

"My mom. I told her: yeah, we do."

"But we don't. Blaat. What did she say?"

"Nice"

***

"We know it's hard to take Roscoe on trips, so if you want, you can host Christmas too."

"Look at this text. Is she for real? Why the hell would I want to host after the shit she just pulled? And why would she blame it on Roscoe. He's not old, he just has a tumor. Yeah, but like, we wouldn't cancel going because of him. She having conversations with herself again?"

"I think it's her way of being nice. You musta made a real impression for her to offer for you to host Christmas."

"Fuck you, buddy. Why would I? So she can steal the roast beast? Oh my god, your mother is the Grinch. She stole everything, 'Right down to the last can of Who Hash.' The cranberry sauce! See! And Max is poor Bella."

"That's not nice! Leave the dog out of it!"

"Neither was absconding with our turkey! And she started it by making it about Roscoe! Why would I want her to come back for round two? 'Fool me once—' 'n that whole thing. Maybe she's hoping my dad will bring beef from the Pok-a-Dot."

"He isn't, is he?"

"No, he's flying, or I would have made him get a cooler and bring me the good New York meats and roast beef from the 'Dot."

"Beef-on-weck for Christmas Eve? That sounds like heaven."

"Focus here, Frank!"

"Horseradish, au jus, mmm."

"Frank!"

"Fresh crispy fries and a vanilla shake to go with it. —Sorry."

"How the hell do I answer this?"

"Do you want to host?"

"She told me when she walked in the door that she was hosting Christmas. My mom even heard her. And no. I'm not letting the Grinch steal Christmas too."

"The alternative is going down there for Eve and Day. Or staying overnight."

"Absolutely not. My dad will be here. I'm not putting him through that. He did his time. Can you imagine my dad staying there?"

"If you host Eve, you and your dad can stay here for Day and I'll just go down."

"You'll have to go down anyway, you'll have to take your brother, right? Has that whole thing been talked about yet?"

"Yeah, no. I don't know. I think he's staying here 'till Christmas day, then he's going there until he leaves."

"At least he'll get a little time to sleep and do whatever he wants before he has to go there. Hey, we're not done here. Don't get distracted. Are you watching short videos? Damn it, Frank. Focus. How do I answer this stupid text!"

"How about: 'Nice.'"