How was your Thanksgiving, Karl? I asked my friend, uh, Karl, as I sat down at our table after running a few minutes late.
"Sucked," he growled, staring into his beer without looking up. We were at First Editions, our favorite literary-themed bar, for our traditional post-Thanksgiving lunch. But Karl hadn’t found the Christmas spirit yet, because he hadn’t said more than three words since I arrived.
Those had been "Hey," an unintelligible grunt when I asked him if he had ordered, and now "sucked."
What’s the rumpus, Krampus? I asked. It’s the wrong season for grinchy grouchiness.
"Oh, it’s my family," Karl answered. "Some days I just can’t stand them."
Seriously? I didn’t think Alexis got you this upset. What happened? Did she serve tofurkey for Thanksgiving dinner again? Alexis was Karl’s daughter, who still lived with him, even though she had an MBA and ran a successful nonprofit. She did it to keep an eye on his health and the things he ate. Which is why we met in secret every couple of months.
"Worse. We went to my sister Sheila’s this year, and she insisted we make speeches about someone we’re thankful for before dinner."
Kurt the bartender came to our table, and we placed our orders: mushroom and Swiss cheeseburger for Karl, peanut butter and jalapeño cheeseburger for me, plus another round of beers since it was still Thanksgiving vacation.
That doesn’t sound so bad. Everyone goes around the table, says a couple things they’re thankful for, bada bing, bada boom, food’s on.
"Not my sister. No, we had to give real speeches that were three to five minutes long, with an intro, body, and conclusion. Plus, we were judged on our efforts."
What, like a competition?
"Oh, yes. Last Christmas, Sheila and her husband, Robert, gave each other Toastmasters memberships, and they’ve been attending three different meetings every week. Now they’re all about the Toastmaster life like they’re in a damn cult. Last month, Sheila sent out a family email that said we had to give a speech about someone we were thankful for."
That sounds dumb. Why didn’t you just say no?
Kurt brought our lunch out and set the plates in front of us. My tater tots were nice and crispy, and he even brought a side of barbecue sauce for dipping.
Meaning?
"Meaning if you didn’t give a speech, you weren’t going to eat."
Wow, so who did you pick for your speech? Was it me?
"No!" Karl nearly shouted before taking a bite from his cheeseburger. "I fik Fafekus," he said, spraying bits of beef and mushrooms as he spoke.
Were you born in a barn? Don’t talk with your mouth full!
Karl took a drink of his beer. "I said, 'I picked Alexis.' Why would I pick you? I can barely tolerate you as it is; why would I be thankful for you?"
I guess that was smart, considering she’s your daughter.
"Plus, she was my ride home. My sister lives three hours away, and my truck was in the shop," he said, before taking another bite from his burger. "But that’s not the worst part."
It gets worse? I said. Being required to do homework a month before the second-best holiday of the year isn’t bad enough; there was more?
"Yes. See, at the end of each Toastmasters meeting, they have someone who counts all the 'ums' and 'uhs' during a person’s speech. Whoever had the most that night got served last. Sheila’s husband, Richard, did the counting. Of course, Sheila didn’t have any, so she rubbed my nose in it."
So who won, Sheila?
"Actually, Alexis won. Sheila was pretty pissed at that, but she had asked one of our cousins, Gerri, to judge, and Gerri was still annoyed with Sheila from last year’s Thanksgiving, when the theme was Beauty and the Feast, and Sheila made a crack about Gerri having a third piece of pie."
Hey, congrats, Alexis. How many people were at the house?
"There were ten of us giving speeches. The little kids didn’t have to participate."
There were ten of you? I asked, almost shouting. Did dinner get cold?
"No, she timed it just right, so it came out just as we finished. The winner got to go first and so on down the line. Sheila got sixth. Serves her right. Bet we won’t do that again."
Who got last?
My niece, Carly, one of Sheila’s own kids, came in last."
Seriously? Her own kid got last? Couldn’t handle the pressure, huh?
"Actually, no. She stood up, said, 'This is stupid,' grabbed a drumstick, and locked herself in her room. Sheila said she was disqualified, and Carly just slammed the door."
So she missed dinner completely?
"Not really. I snuck her a plate when Sheila’s back was turned, because I’m the cool uncle, and Alexis took her some dessert later."
But you’re still upset. What’s the problem?
"Because I came in seventh!"
My new humor novel, Mackinac Island Nation, is finished and available from 4 Horsemen Publications. You can get the ebook and print versions here.