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From: " +Grant. " <+Grant@grant.grant>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.prettyboy
Subject: Re: +=+=+=+ A Thanksgiving I Don't Ever Want to Forget +=+=+=+ Repost
Date: 28 Nov 2011 17:26:00 -0600
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In article <pk28d7p079u1dj37p90qphpetd3b03g26l@4ax.com>,
<Hank@handkerchief.co.uk> wrote:
> That was lovely. Thank you.
>
>
You're welcome. And thank you for replying. I didn't think anybody was
reading my stories, which is why I stopped posting them. This one is a
repost of one I posted in 2009. It actually happened. We did get a new
cat. He didn't like feet as much.
Have you been reading my Stephen stories? I could continue to post
them, if people are actually reading them. Coming up are more about Mac
and T-Bone and aliens from space, and Nigel goes to live with Stephen,
and they start a big corporation, and have more adventures. Then we
skip a few generations to the next ten year old Stephen, who is more
than he seems, and he has some REALLY wild adventures in different
cultures on Earth and all over the galaxy. Chad, Nigel, T-Bone, and
Mac, are still involved, and so are a lot of new and very likable
characters. And Sex. There is a LOT of that happy making thing
happening all the time.
I want to thank you again for your nice reply. Please have a good time
in this holiday season, and in your whole life.
Grant.
>
> On 28 Nov 2011 14:51:01 -0600, " +Grant. " <+Grant@grant.grant> wrote:
>
> > "A Thanksgiving I Don't Ever Want to Forget" (Repost)
> >
> >
> >This happened when I was 12, but I remember it like it was yesterday.
> >Well, it was a good year. LOL
> >
> >We lived in a big country house that had a very big eat-in kitchen, so
> >we did. Eat in it. But ultra large family gatherings, such as happened
> >at Thanksgiving, filled our home to overflowing. Naturally we managed,
> >but sometimes things didn't turn out as well as planned. Actually, from
> >us kids' point of view, sometimes better than planned. MUCH better.
> >Such as when Dad got too involved.
> >
> >One such holiday, we were mostly all seated at the big extended table,
> >but us kids were relegated to two folding card tables at one end of the
> >big table. That big table was so crowded with fixings and elbows and
> >things, Dad decided to carve the very big Thanksgiving bird on our
> >kids' table. Maybe he didn't want to make his usual mess on the fancy
> >tablecloth. Anyway, that's where he dumped it, near the side that was
> >next to the main table. Just as he was beginning his first very
> >energetic turkey slicing attempt, the two legs under that side of the
> >our card table chose that moment to collapse in protest, sending the
> >turkey rolling under the big table, leaving Dad just standing there
> >looking lost. Then, from us kids' point of view, things got even
> >better.
> >
> >Spot, our old black and white tomcat, had this thing about feet. He
> >liked them a lot. He tried to trip us when we walked rubbing against
> >them, and licked our feet when he could get at them, and did all the
> >other feet activities he could think of. There were a great many feet,
> >all kinds of feet, under the big Thanksgiving table, so that's where he
> >had parked himself, right in the middle of toe city, never expecting in
> >his wildest feline dreams he would be anything but safe from being
> >attacked by a gigantic dead bird at least 5 times his size. To say he
> >was surprised would be a gigantic understatement! Not sticking around
> >one split second, he streaked out of there, but he didn't get as far as
> >he probably intended.
> >
> >Great Aunt Mabel had a very long dress on. Up it went the severely
> >startled Spot. Mabel shrieked and tried to back away, but she went over
> >backward in her chair. That would have pretty much ended things right
> >there, if she hadn't grabbed hold of the tablecloth as a lifeline, and
> >took it, and most of what was on it, crashing to the floor on top of
> >her. Except for the full gravy boat. Mom reacted fast and tried to save
> >it. Well, she did a little, all over herself.
> >
> >Us kids recovered first, and had fits of hysterical laughter. I don't
> >think that helped any. Dad got over his paralysis and rushed over to
> >help Mom, and almost stabbed and sliced her with the big carving set he
> >was still holding. She avoided him like a star running back, and told
> >him to "Put those things down and go help Mabel!" He did that by
> >cowardly asking Great Uncle Hank to pull Spot, who was still struggling
> >to get away, out from under his wife's dress. I think Dad didn't want
> >to risk getting scratched. And slapped.
> >
> >Hank got scratched, and slapped, and escorted Mabel to one of the guest
> >bedrooms to rest. Some of us kids were conscripted into the cleanup
> >crew, and had more fun than usual in such a job. The floor wasn't quite
> >as slippery as we made it out to be. When we got to the turkey, Dad
> >offered to rinse it off and resume carving it for our dinner. Mom said
> >"Absolutely not, we can't eat that!", so he put it out of the way on
> >the counter. Even after all that mess, we still had more than enough
> >food for a very good Thanksgiving dinner, and a memorable one, to say
> >the least. As for that runaway turkey, well, it didn't get far. We had
> >
> >We let Spot have some of the turkey. Well, he asked. Revenge, maybe?
> >Anyhow, he never went back under the table as long as he lived. He
> >passed away 2 years later in his sleep. On my feet. Dreaming of the
> >attacking turkey that, in the end, didn't get away. Possibly. I like to
> >think so.
> >
> >
> >++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
> >
> >
> >I know it could have been written better, but I'm not a pro at this. I
> >hope you liked it, and may all your future Thanksgivings be as fun for
> >you as this one was for me, if not in exactly the same way. LOL
--
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Grant
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