My ninth Thanksgiving was the weirdest I had ever experienced. To this day, it is still the most bizarre. My eccentric Aunt Rose decided for whatever odd ball reason, that she was going to forgo the traditional Thanksgiving turkey and serve … meatloaf.
Who the hell wants meatloaf for Thanksgiving dinner? No one at our table did. All the relatives were upset, that was for sure.
Disappointment was on almost every face at the table. There were groans of disgust and I was one of them. My father tried to console me by saying we would have turkey and stuffing tomorrow. He sensed I was on the verge of a meltdown.
One of my younger cousins began to cry. Angry relatives questioned why the meatloaf was not an addition but the main course. Curses flew but thankfully no one came to physical violence.
When Aunt Rose pulled the offensive ground beef mixture out of the oven, and began to slice it up, another SNAFU. The ground beast was not cooked through! Back in the oven went the sliced behemoth meat mound.
Finally, the anomaly was served, with a plethora of sides. I was thankful for the sides! We were a quarter through the meal when my “always tardy” Aunt Sadie and Uncle Dwight sashayed into the dining room.
Aunt Sadie was offended that the meal commenced without her perpetually tardy ass. Words were exchanged and she marched out. Bewildered, Uncle Dwight dutifully followed her.
The meal resumed, no one caring that Aunt Sadie had a temper tantrum and stomped out like a six-year-old. We were all desensitized to her boorish, rude behavior by now.
Dessert time arrived. The women loved to display their pies, ever vying for the best pie decree. Grandma made her specialty, apple. My mother made pecan. Aunt Rose was responsible for the pumpkin, BUT THERE WAS NO PUMPKIN!
I looked in horror at a revolting green pie and whispering to my dad, “What’s that?’’
Before he could answer, my aunt announced that it was a squash pie. I declined to try it. The filling resembled green baby poop. My dad bravely took a bite but later admitted that it wasn’t good.
The next day, my mom roasted a turkey, made her homemade stuffing, and mashed potatoes, and we celebrated a traditional Thanksgiving meal.
I have no problem trying new traditions and spicing up the menu, but changing it up so drastically, when no-one has been given a choice, just sucks.
Laughter is the best medicine for all, and I have retold this story to all who were not in attendance at the Meatloaf Thanksgiving and Green Squash Pie Fiasco.
Sheila Kirk became interested in writing and storytelling in first grade. She enjoyed writing assignments and started writing short stories in high school to amuse her friends. She enjoys writing horror and dark comedy.