The TRUE story of Thanksgiving.
Back to the story.
So, there stands Chris, holding a “globe” with a deranged look on his face. We all stood there, staring at each other in a dead, awkward silence. Soon after, Shaky Ray had one of his tourettes outbursts and called Chris a cockbite. Chris asked what was wrong with my friend, and I told him to “suck it and let’s check out this shithole.” Chris let us in and offered us a cup of tea. We immediately called him a fag, and poured the tea onto his nipples and taint. Oddly enough, he seemed to like that, so we stopped. Chris brought us upstairs and opened a door to a big room. We checked out the room, took out the dead animals and I moved my stuff right in. The first month wasn’t bad, Chris mostly stayed in his room drawing what appeared to be circles all over the place. I felt it was a little annoying, but I figured I’d let him do his thing.
3 weeks after I moved in, Chris comes into my room and asks me how I feel about going on a trip. I immediately grabbed my .45 revolver and asked him what he meant by that. Chris put the ruphies away, and said, “it’s science!” I got excited, because when I was 8, I loved science. So I was like “What’s up?!” I followed him to his room, where he had a map of the world, wrapped around a big ball. He turned to me, looked me in the eye and asked “What would you say if I told you the world was round?” I replied “I’d say Ok, cool. Now can I go back to my room and drink?” Chris looked at me angrily and said “You’re 8 god damn years old, you drink too much already.” I took a drink from my flask and told him he might have a point. Chris continued to talk about his “round world” as I began to eyeball his thermos. I eventually agreed to go with him on an adventure, if I could have his thermos. Chalk one up to stupidity I guess.
So, we’re now at the docks. The ships are being loaded with food, and other essentials for a long trip. Initially, they thought Rum would be a bad idea for a long journey, but I wasn’t hearing it. At 8 years old there are only two things in the world that make me happy, rum and Connect Four…god I love that game. Anyway, so we convinced the suppliers to add in some rum into our supplies. Chris is now, taking me ship by stupid ship asking me what we should name them. The first ship, was big and grotesque, so I told him to call it the Dookieship Tambourine. I don’t think he heard me, because he ended up naming it the Pinta. The next ship was sleek, but a little thick towards the middle and back…which immediately reminded me of this hooker I got the night before. So I said “Nina!” Chris liked that, probably because he didn’t know the back story, but none the less, that was all me. Finally we came up to a giant ship, beautiful…stunning actually. It reminded me of Christmas, so I said “let’s name this Santa.” But right as I said that, this big beautiful ass comes strolling past us. We asked what her name was, she said something, but neither of us were really paying attention to her talking. Regardless, we decided her name was Maria, and then put them together, the Santa Maria. Of course, I wanted to call it the SS Badonkadonk after I saw Maria’s backside, but nah, I guess it’s gotta sound a LITTLE professional. A couple hours later, we board the ships, and set off on our amazing aquatic adventure.
Here’s a few entries from my journal that pretty much sums up the trip across the ocean:
-2 days into it, and I’m dying for some fried chicken. Sure, sure, I’ve been eating well. 3 square meals on one flat planet, in one stupid trip, on 3 stupid ships. And all I wanted to do was rent a room…I’m not even supposed to be here today.
-3 months into it, and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’ve offered every woman on this ship cash money for sex, and I get nothing! I don’t know if it’s because I’m 8 or WHAT, but if they don’t take my money in exchange for sex sometime soon, I’m goin gay.
-3 1/2 months into it, FINALLY I talked one of the women into accepting money in exchange for sex. 2 minutes later, I’m happy, she’s disappointed and still dead broke. How am I supposed to have money when I don’t have a job on this stupid boat? Hahahahaha!! These chicks need to learn to take the money first.
-5 1/2 months into it, and now I realize that if I paid her, I’d probably be better off…now I have to use the ether method, and after 20 times, I’m beginning to feel a little guilty. Meh.
“LAND, HO!!….BITCH, I SAID THERE’S LAND!!”
We approach a mass of land, on the beach stands dozens of half nekked people with feather hats, hatchets and red faces. Chris walks up to me and says “Isn’t this great?!” I looked at him, thinking how great it must be when you’re blinded by optimism, then I replied, “Yeah man, this is wonderful. I can’t wait to see what those natives like to do with those hatchets. Turn this floating heap around!” Chris laughed at me, and continued pulling up close enough to get in the dinghy’s and head to land.
So now, we’re in the dinghy’s approaching the seemingly pissed off redfaces. We hop out, tread through the water, and make our way over to the redface with the biggest feathers. We walked up to the redfaces. Chris bowed and I took a drink from my flask. The redfaces stared at us and said “How.” I replied “We took these boats.” The redface looked at Chris, put his hand up, and said “How.” Chris replied “How.” and tried to give him some bread we had on the boat, but it was stale. The redface took offense, and lifted his hatchet, ready to strike. I, thinking quickly, raised my flask to protect Chris from the hatchet. The redface put his hatchet down, and took my flask. He opened it, and began drinking what was inside, which was a nice combination of rum and some mint leaves I stumbled across before we left. The redface began to smile, he turned to his friends, held up the flask and said something to the effect of “Bingy doka lo doomaloo matoko.” The heard of redfaces cheered and raised their hatchets. I, being the pacifist, ducked, thinking that they were excited that they had something to drink while they eat us. Turns out, they really like rum. I was excited because, despite the language barrier, there’s nothing more fun when you’re drinking on a desolate island with no strip clubs, than playing some cards.
So by now, it had to have been around November. Where we landed, the leaves were a rainbow of colors. On Monday it was 80 degrees and sunny, and now…Wednesday, it’s snowing. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I have a feeling the people of this “Plymouth” must be insane because of the weather patterns. And with the feather hats they’re rockin, I think my theory is right. Although the redfaces have given us shelter, we still eat dinner on the ship every night, while these redfaces go to their giant cones and eat. And it could be the rum talking, but I’m pretty sure I smelled weed coming from there too, who knows. Either way, I think what I’m going to do is see if they wanna eat together tomorrow. We’ll all put in some food and have ourselves a feast. I think that’ll go over well.
Thursday, November 24, 1492.
The redfaces, who (based on guessing, more than translating) are called “Indians” or “Injuns,” have agreed to share this bounty with us. Once again, I’m pretty sure I smelled weed over there. I think I even saw some guy smoking from a 10 foot long tree branch. No matter what, the feast is being prepared by all of the women from the ship and from this land. The guys have been drinking rum all day, and discovered a wolf that chases it’s tail nonstop. So that kept us occupied while the women prepared dinner. When we came back for the feast, the women decorated the table with pumpkins, gourds and all sorts of fruit that we were told we can’t eat because they’re for “decoration.” So chief whatshisnuts scalped her. Yeah, I felt bad, but I learned that you don’t tell an Injun that he can’t eat something when he’s been drinking…you just don’t. After they buried her body, we all sat down to eat. Before we all dug in, we decided to exchange gifts as a sign of good will. As we presented them with gallons of Rum, that feint smell of weed came back again. Sure enough, they lift one of those 10 foot branches I saw, and fired it up! We sat there and had a session even Bob Marley would have taken a break from. Needless to say, after the session from the “peace pipe” was over, we attacked the food like it hit our mothers. Turkey, ham, potatoes, veggies, just flying around from person to person. Not one morsel saved from the ravaging we gave that meal. After we were done eating, we all unbuckled our belts, and the Indians loosened up their loin cloths. Then we all hung out and watched the Lions game on the chiefs 103 inch plasma he had hidden in his giant cone.
And THAT my people, is how the real first Thanksgiving went down.
