Is there anything we look forward to more on Thanksgiving than the table banter during dinner? The entire holiday is just a milquetoast preamble to five months of gray skies and perpetual wind, so it is nice to listen to windbag relatives brighten the room with their annual verbal jousting.
Cousin Ryan: Terrible what’s going on with those wild fires out west, huh?
Grandpa: I’m sick of hearing about that! It’s all that’s on the news! You know back in my day we didn’t even have any of this California nonsense. Kentucky was as far west as it went!
Uncle Bill: Dad, these people’s lives were ruined, show some compassion.
Grandpa: Well of course you’d say that; you’re gay!
Uncle Bill: Let’s switch the subject, hmm?
Cousin Ryan: Sure, fun fact, there is no direct translation for the word “Christmas” in Spanish. That’s why during the holidays, Mexican children ask their parents what the true meaning of Taco Tuesday is.
Cousin Deb: That can’t possibly be true.
Uncle Jack: I have to go to the bathroom.
Cousin Deb: All right everybody skootch, let him up.
Uncle Jack: Actually, I changed my mind.
Uncle Bill: How?
Little Timmy: Don’t hate, Uncle Bill. If my man Jack changed his mind, then he changed his mind.
Great Aunt Jo: Deb, why is your son talking like a colored?
*Man comes crashing into dining room through a sudden inter-dimensional wormhole*
Man: *In a helium high voice* There’s no time to explain! Get in the DeLorean!
Grandpa: Good god, it was real! *tears off sweater, revealing an I❤️NY t-shirt underneath* If I don’t come back, never open the door for a wolf walking on two legs.
*Man and Grandpa disappear into the wormhole*