Happy Thanksgiving everybody!
*Emily’s Point Of View*
As soon as I heard the unmistakable screaming of Grace Thomas, my sister, on Thanksgiving day, I ran to her.
What I amounted to was a menagerie of aromas, the boiling corn, the sliced vegetables, and the freshly baked rolls. The kitchen was messy, dishes strewn about, but on Thanksgiving, Grace allowed herself to be a messy cook. I eyed her prized Pecan Pie, my mouth watering, and as I brought myself, (regretfully), back to reality, I wondered what she was doing….
She stood with the oven door pulsing out heat, an empty tray grasped by her oven mitt.
“Grace!” I exclaimed as I kicked back the venting oven door, “What on earth is happening?!”
She sobbed, barely audible through he whimpers, “The..” sniff, “Turkey…” sniff, “IS MISSING!”
I almost fell to the ground in surprise, “What?! How?! When did you see it last?”
“I put it in the oven, and when I t-took it out…” She trailed off, “IT WAS GONE!”
Oh believe me, I had many questions, but I had even more when Maryellen entered the kitchen, he finger patting her hair…
“Who likes my Thanksgiving HAIRSTYLE?” She sang, “I did it all myself!”
Grace got snappy when she got stressed, so I covered her mouth as she was about to shout a tidbit of rude reply, “It’s…” I trailed off, not knowing what to say. Her hair was braided into at least 20 tiny braids, cornrows, what I believed they call it, “VERY interesting Maryellen!”
“YAY!” she said in her singsong voice again, “Just what I was thinking of!” I managed to shoot her a wry smile, but then Kit entered.
Smothering my grin, I shot her an evil look as she stared at the hair do. She shook her head, as if deciding no to bother with Ellie. “I got NEW eggs for the chicken coop!” Grace reached out her hand, a strange look in her eyes, “MAYBE WE CAN COOK THEM!”
Kit pulled back, “No way! These are going to hatch into adorable chicks come January, and I am going to protect them, no matter how many cooking psycho’s like you are out there!” She shivered, turning her back on Grace.
I gestured to Maryellen, “The turkey is miss-”
Just then, Saige arrived, Molly trailing behind her, carrying a box 2 thirds her size.
We all exchanged questioning stares as Saige began to speak, “Welcome, Welcome!”
She cleared her throat, “It’s our Thanksgiving show! Starring Pepper, Jip, Buttercup, Marigold, and Cinnamon!”
“What the-” I whispered to myself..
“Why on EARTH did I agree to do this?” Molly said as she heaved the set up onto Amelia’s bed, panting.
The pets jumped up and down, yipping in their adorable Indian feathers, bonnets, and pilgrim hats. It made no sense, nevertheless, we clapped, hypnotized by our cute little pets.
“Well that was cute, but we STILL, don’t have-”
Amelia slid onto the floor, in Ellie’s favorite dress, “I’m ready for thanksgiving!”, she exclaimed, “No time for socializing, I got my eating dress on!”
I had to admit, it WAS perfect for eating massive amounts of food, it was twice as full on the bottom, and Amelia was obviously either thinking or not thinking, for she was not wearing tights. Yes, tights would pull tight during her fattening, but it WAS 30 degrees outside…
I think Maryellen had a different opinion, it apparently was HER dress, “YOUR dress? That’s my-”
“SHH! Did I or Did I not say no socializing!? I need to get into my eating mantra!”
“Eating mantra’s ARE NOT a thing!”
I was ready to explode, so it was MY turn to interrupt, “WE DO NOT HAVE A TURKEY!”
Everyone was dumbfounded, while Grace folded her arms angrily.
Samantha crashed on top of Amelia.
“WHAT?!” She shrieked,
“But the turkey is the STAR of Thanksgiving! It is relished, it is an ICON, for goodness’ SAKE! It is stuffed, smothered with cranberry sauce, and chewed happily all night! Thanksgiving is not THANKSGIVING without the turkey.
I held in my giggles as Cinnamon in a bonnet almost clawed open Molly’s sleeve, “Are you done with your rant Samantha?”
Samantha shot up, staring into the distance, “Yes, I think so.”
SO we stood there. chaotic, until I saw something.
Buttercup nudged something from behind the bed, and yipped…
And even though Grace wanted to kill Buttercup, and even though we lost our table settings and had to sit on the floor, none of us could deny, it was Thanksgiving, Alright.
What’s your favorite kind of pie?
Our’s is Pecan!
-Samantha and the dolls