The Thanksgiving Survival Guide

Everyone has their Thanksgiving horror story, but let me tell you, my family has the worst. When I was nine, my brother and I got pissed at each other and started a food fight at the kid’s table. By the time Dad broke it up, both me and my brother were coated in mashed potatoes. Two years ago an out of town aunt came by with a big smile, a big purse, and a big ambition to slip our turkey into said big purse. Last year, my Dad sat everyone down to watch his conspiracy theories on the TV, then guarded the front door so we had no choice but to watch. 

This year I bought a house, and it came with two things: a mortgage I won’t pay off until I’m seventy-five years old, and the honor of hosting Thanksgiving. I didn’t have a choice with either. The mortgage sucked, but hosting Hosting would be stressful, for sure, but I could control the worst of my family’s antics. 

I would have five people, including me, at my dinner table. I would make only enough food for forty minutes of gluttony, and once everyone had their fill, I’d whip out a store-bought chocolate cake, have my family eat it, then politely ask them to leave. I had a seating arrangement. My brother and Dad always fight, so I’d sit between them. My husband would sit on my Dad’s other side, because he’s the only one who could tolerate Dad’s conspiracy ramblings. I’d left an empty seat at my bother’s side because I know he’ll bring along an uninvited boyfriend, and if I didn’t have accommodations for that interloper, my brother would throw a fit. 

I had everything ready thirty minutes before noon. The house smelled of holiday cheer, and I was starting to smell of anxiety. I paced around the living room until my husband stopped me and said, 

“You’ve got it all planned out. It’ll work out, promise.” 

That calmed me down for the two seconds before the doorbell rang. Dad showed up first, casserole in hand. He stepped into the house and looked around like bird, jerking his head from point to point. 

“Nice place,” he said. “Did you make sure to check for cameras before moving in? You should. The government’s always watching.” 

One step into the house and he was already spewing gibberish. I guided him to the kitchen, where he could set his casserole down. I did my best to steer the conversation away from the CIA hiding cameras in my bathroom, but Dad still managed to explain a good bit of spy craft to me. 

Next came my brother with his uninvited boyfriend–a different uninvited boyfriend from last year. This dude was tall and wide and carried my brother in his arms like he was some housewarming gift. 

“Hey Becca,” Josh said. “This is Theo. You don’t mind that he’s here, do you?” 

“Totally cool.” 

Josh grinned, then his face broke into exaggerated shock. 

“Oh no, I was supposed to make mashed potatoes!” Josh said. “Becca, I’m so sorry, I just–well, I was busy.” 

My brother was thirty-one years old without a job; he had all the time in the world to make mashed potatoes. He was just lazy. 

“That’ll be fine; Mark made potatoes anyway,” I said. 

Josh flashed a crooked grin as if he’d gotten away with robbery. 

I showed everyone to their spots at the table, then headed into the kitchen to gather the food. I sat the turkey in the middle of the table, then carefully sat the sides around it. I stepped back a moment to admire my work, and that’s when Theo decided to make himself known. 

“I’ll say grace.” He said it like it was agreed upon a week ago. 

Theo took Josh’s hand, who took Mark’s, and the chain came to me before I knew what to do. My temperature was rising. I wanted to tell Theo that I’d handle grace, but if I did, I’d probably set off that big bad fight I wanted to avoid this year. I took the hands next to me, bowed my head, and pretended this was all okay. 

“God is great, God is good, uh…” Theo trailed away. Can you believe that? He had the audacity to say grace and he couldn’t mumble out even the most basic of prayers? Then Josh said, “Amen,” like his boyfriend said something coherent, and the rest of my family followed. 

I gripped my Dad’s hand on the left, and my brother’s on the right. Then I started up a prayer of my own–one I spent weeks researching and preparing. I said my few sentences and finished with an Amen that everyone repeated. I know it was kind of rude to say a second prayer, but we needed a real prayer. Besides, this family could use a double blessing.

Theo wanted to carve the turkey, but I swiped the duty from him, and doled food onto plates. Mark and Josh and Theo got their share of turkey, but Dad shook his head. 

“I’ll take the vegetables, thank you very much,” Dad said. “Everyone else here should probably do the same, really, but if you want this infected meat, go right ahead.” 

I shot a look at my turkey, half expecting it to be rotten, but it was the same glistening bird as before. Everyone stared at Dad, forks poised inches over their plates. 

“Uh, Dad, the turkey’s cooked the way you taught me,” I said. 

“It’s not your cooking sweetie, it’s the drugs that are pumped into the bird,” Dad said.

That’s when I knew what was wrong with the turkey–at least what was wrong according to Dad. 

“The CIA pumps turkeys up with these mind-altering drugs. You become more susceptible to government propaganda. They can even change what you see and remember–you can’t trust your own memories!” Dad rolled. 

“CIA turkeys. Sure.” Josh rolled his eyes. 

Dad leapt from his chair. 

“See! See! You don’t see the truth because you’re full of government chemicals!” 

I think that was the quickest a fight broke out at the Thanksgiving table. If anything else, I could say my family broke a record that year. But things needed to be brought back under control, and as the host, it was my duty to do so. 

“I think a little turkey won’t hurt anyone,” I chimed in. 

Dad and Josh focused on me. They had the same ticking time bomb look in their eyes. 

“And, if there are drugs in the meat, we can dilute it with water, can’t we?” I asked. 

“You think that will work? The government uses potent drugs, the kind that will infect you with just–”

“So no turkey for you?” I snapped. The table went quiet. Only a few minutes in and I’ve already fumbled twice. 

Dad’s face twisted into a collection of confused and angry faces before he relaxed. 

“No turkey, thank you,” he said. I guess he was trying to avoid a fight to. 

I took my place at the table and tried to enjoy the food. The table was quiet, but everyone shot me looks like they expected me to snap again. I liked the quiet though–at least I think I did. No one was arguing, but the sound of five people chewing made my skin crawl. Mark must have felt the same, because he decided to start up a conversation. 

“Anyone have sex recently?” Don’t ask me why Mark thought that was an appropriate question for the dinner table; I don’t always understand my husband. He got some else to talk, though. 

“Um, yeah,” Theo answered.

“Becca and I have had it pretty good recently,” Mark continued. “I mean, last night we–”

I kicked my chair back so it would screech against the floor. I tried to smile, but I’m pretty sure I looked like I was baring my teeth. 

“Is everyone through? Time for dessert?” I asked.

After a moment, everyone agreed that they would like a piece of cake. I stepped into the kitchen, where the cake waited. I gave myself a few seconds to calm my heart rate–family gatherings are not good for the health–then took the cake. 

I walked in at the perfect time.

Josh had stood up, and as he turned, he hit his glass of water. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if Josh hadn’t tried to save his glass. He contorted around like he was being possessed. He somehow grabbed the tablecloth and yanked it with enough force to drag the entire Thanksgiving feast onto the floor. 

That’s bad, right? Oh don’t you worry, it gets worse. 

I tripped over my own foot. I’m not the clumsy type, but the chaos threw me for a loop. So I tripped, and stumbled to my table. I managed to catch myself using the cake plate, so I was okay. The cake, following the laws of physics, sprung off the pan and landed face-down on my table. My family stared at the ruined cake smeared across the table. After a few seconds of shock, they devolved into frenzied screams. 

“You alright?” Mark hurried to my side. 

“Yeah, but…” I nodded to the ruined cake. 

“I dunno know what happened; it all just came down,” Josh said in the background. 

“You grabbed the tablecloth!” Dad bellowed. 

“No I didn’t!”

“It’s fine, really, I can clean this up,” Theo said. “I just need to know where the towels and everything are.” 

“I’ll clean it!” I snapped. 

I marched to the bathroom, where I stashed my cleaning supplies. I didn’t need to shut the door and lock it to get some towels and a broom, but I did. I leaned against the counter and massaged the sides of my head. I took a few seconds to gather my hammering thoughts into rows, then I gathered my cleaning supplies and stepped back into the terror dome. 

The kitchen floor was cleared of broken plates and the largest chunks of food. The cake was gone too, and replaced by something that tanked my blood pressure. On the table sat my jar of moonshine. Everyone passed the jar around, taking swigs as they went. Their cheeks were red already. I set the cleaning supplies against the wall, and approached my husband. 

“What the hell happened?” I whispered into his ear. 

Dad passed the moonshine to Mark, who held the bottle to me. I shook my head. 

“I thought it would calm them. And look.” Mark gestured to the table. 

Dad and Josh were talking to each other, not yelling. Theo was quiet in his seat. I still wanted to snatch up the moonshine and put it on the top shelf, but everything was fine at the moment.

I went to work sweeping scraps of food off the floor while my family talked. I should have paid attention, but after dealing with all their shit, I was done with them. I let their voices be a rattle in the background. It was nice until the fists started flying. 

I don’t even know what started the fight; all I know is that one moment everyone is chatting, and the next Dad and Josh are in a fistfight. Theo jumped in soon after to defend his beloved, then Mark stumbled into the fray to…honestly, I still don’t know what my husband was trying to do. 

I stood there for a second and watched four grown men brawling in my dining room. It was quite the sight, would have made for a good picture if I had pulled out my phone. I really regret that I didn’t. I could print the picture out and hang it up every holiday so my family could be embarrassed into behaving. 

I grabbed the bottle of moonshine, raised it to my lips, and drank. It burned down my throat and into my belly until I’d gotten the last drop. 

I slammed the jar against the table like a judge’s gavel. Everyone froze and stared at me. 

“Out,” I growled. 

When this pack of morons didn’t leave on their own, I took issues into my own hands. First I grabbed Theo, since he was uninvited. Josh followed, asking me what I was doing until I shoved his boyfriend out the door. Since Josh was close, he was the next to get ejected. 

Dad grunted in approval. He was about to say something, but before he could, I pulled him into the November air. I stepped back into my house, and glared at Mark.

“Um, honey?” He tested. 

Then he went out into the cold, too. 

The drunks beat against my door, apologizing and asking to come back in, but I had a house to clean. I grabbed my broom, and went back to sweeping my floors.