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A Happi Thanksgiving Indeed

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It was just another Thanksgiving at my brother’s house in Philadelphia, where each year they get a turkey. A live turkey, that is, who parades around the house and is invited to sit at the table as the family eats crab. This year’s turkey was named Arthur and I hear he was a very good turkey, though I’m not sure how a turkey is especially good or bad without gravy and cranberry sauce.

But oh, the drama with Cindi and the “extended family,” which is quite literal with regard to my aunt Bertha. This is not to body shame, to be clear — it’s just that some people should not wear spandex and this is a fairly objective fact. As dinner was heating, we saw smoke signals in the form of the letters “H-E-L-P,” and after initially wondering if it was some religious sign we discovered it was coming from the spandex.

Meanwhile my uncle Perv was parading around in his favorite t-shirt, the one with “Tastes Like Chicken” emblazoned across the stomach with an arrow pointing down. There’s a reason he’s not allowed within 200 feet of any school.

But the drama was created when Cindi’s beloved pet rabbit, Highlights, turned up dead. Aunt Bertha vehemently denied culpability, but her alibi was betrayed by the bloody trail of high heel footprints and the rabbit’s foot wedged underneath the heel — which was not good luck, certainly not for the rabbit. So yeah, Cindi was having a very bad hare day.

It was the strangest Thanksgiving since that baseball game where the player ate turkey and tripped a fan. 10 points for you if you get the joke. HAPPY THANKSGIVING WEEKEND, Y’ALL! And remember: only a Sagittarius can be expected to hit in the clutch. At least according to Cindi.