Well, Thanksgiving is coming up again, but knowing my family, it’s not going to be a restful holiday. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to see everyone, but getting the whole family together in this political climate is a recipe for another classic blowout fight at the dinner table. I know because it happens every year, and also because I am the one who intentionally instigates it for my own perverse entertainment.
Pass the cranberry sauce, because with the election still raw and me more bored than ever, this year is poised to be extra bitter.
If you think Thanksgiving is a time when we could all come together to be grateful, you haven’t met my family after I poke and prod until somebody says something unforgivable. Why does every dinner have to devolve into some stupid fight over politics? The answer is as follows: year after year, I take precise measures to ensure that it happens because I get off on feeling like a twisted puppeteer.
Some families have a tradition where they go around and say what they’re thankful for, but not mine. If we tried that, I’m sure someone would find some way to turn it into a fight. That person is me. If things get too lovey-dovey, I’ll just swoop in with a simple, “This year, I’m thankful for Tulsi Gabbard”
Instead of talking turkey about politics, most families just carve the damn thing. But when I eat a turkey leg, I prefer to do so as though I’m a medieval king watching desperate peasants fight to the death for my fleeting amusement. I cackle between bites after goading my grandfather into saying something provocative about the police. Wiping my mouth, I reveal a satisfied smirk after the success of my machine that repeats the word “abortion” at a pitch only the subconscious can hear.
It’s the holidays; can’t we all just get along? Not if I have anything to say about it.
Coming to my family's Thanksgiving? Word of advice: don’t get my uncle started on gun control, because I’ve already gotten him all riled up about vaccines. You see, over the past year, I’ve slowly been radicalizing him on the issue by impersonating trusted friends on social media and in real life via prosthetics. By the time the fall rolled around, he was attending regular medical freedom protests outside of the CVS minute clinic. Now all I have to do is show up to dinner with a bandaid on my shoulder and watch him go fucking insane.
Like a lot of people, if I’m going to get through dinner with my extended family, I’m gonna need a drink. I love watching them go at it while I’ve got a good buzz going.
Trust me, if you come to my family Thanksgiving, you’re gonna want to bring a flask. For the past few years, I've been spiking the wine with the hormone that induces rodents to cannibalize their young. Once everyone’s had a few sips, I only have to whisper the word “immigrant,” and wait for someone to throw a carving knife at the wall.
But even though our Thanksgivings can get tense, I love my family more than anything, and I cherish the time I’m lucky enough to spend with them. In fact, I’m already getting excited for Christmas dinner, once I find out where they’re having it this year.