According to the history books, Native Americans rescued an entire colony of fake americans (called pilgrims) from starving to death. To show their appreciation, the pilgrims hunted the native americans to the point of near extinction, and stole their land. With the red skins gone, and more land to build convenience stores on, the pilgrims had much to be thankful for. With that single act, phase one of the white man’s tyrannical reign began, and Thanksgiving was born.

If you’re like me, nothing brings a bigger smile to your face than being trapped in a house with your most unwelcome family members. From your aunt with the smokers voice to your drunken uncle who excels at shouting expletives, it’s a 12 hour act of fiegning sencerity while frequently sneaking glimpses at your watch. The host of the occasion is cursed with feeding all four-hundred guests, but blessed with the satisfaction of knowing that the very meal they’re creating is simultaniously torturing everyone in the house.

The delicious (or sometimes even disgusting) aroma wafting through the house is one of the most effective spells in exsitence. It forces everyone within a six mile radius to be civil to one to another regardless of their differences. Of course a meal large enough to feed a small army takes no less than 14 hours to complete, but each family member who isn’t present at the start of its preparation, forfieits their portion of the meal. Therefore, everyone is forced to show up rediculously early or risk starvation.

Before everyone stuffs their gaping maws with turkey meat, it’s customary to say a prayer. It’s also customary for each family member to roll dice to determine who will lead said prayer. First person to roll a two and a four first wins. It’s symbolic of how many seconds that person will pray for before ending it abruptly with an “amen”. Unbeknownst to the lead prayer, everyone else was thinking about the simple pleasures they’ve been missing out on such as lesbian porn or guitar hero, but the first taste of the forbidden meal negates all desires.

I apologize for disclosing the truth of this day so abruptly, but my hungrer has driven me mad with wordsmithy. Hunger and liquor have the same effect on me, and there is no remorse. I’ve written this blurb with frequent interuption, and the most secretive Hot Pocket breaks. Wish me luck. I’m off to battle the other members of my madenning blood line.