Christmas Dinner

Dear Santa,

This year, for Christmas I want a new family. I know this seems like a strange request from a twenty-four year old, but please, let me explain.

Last year I was newly married and my husband and I offered to host Christmas at our brand new home. What fun we were sure to have, with his family and mine joining under the same expensive roof. After being up until three in the morning, wrapping presents for both sides of the family, and I got up at six to prepare the turkey for a day of roasting. I carefully prepared the stuffing and taking the spoon full of stuffing I closed my eyes and prepared to put the stuffing in the turkey’s butt. Though this is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done, I just knew it would turn out as well as any Martha Stewart turkey. I sent the spoon blindly into the turkey’s butt and hit something; carefully I opened my eyes and looked. What luck, I bought a pre-stuffed turkey! I’m a bit confused as I don’t recall seeing that the turkey was pre-stuffed, but in my excitement to make this a perfect holiday I placed my stuffing in a baking dish for later.

Quietly, I slip into the bathroom to shower and prepare myself to look like the calm, cool, and collected housewife everyone thinks I am. As I am finishing with the last of my make-up I hear the ringing of the doorbell, let the fun begin, I think to myself as I joyfully descend the stairs to the foyer. Of course, first to arrive is Aunt Mary, Uncle Jack and their twelve kids. Aunt Mary kisses me on the cheek and offers me her fruitcake that she probably baked in early October. The first chance I get I’ll toss it on the kitchen counter and see how solid it really is before I throw it in the garbage.

Uncle Jack came forward and leaned in to hug me, he already reeks of eggnog as he said, “I’ve got a surprise for everyone, but it will have to wait.”

“Okay, Uncle Jack, why don’t you take the first seat you can find before you fall over.”

Quickly, I took a moment to run up stairs and wake my husband, Ralph, from his restful slumber. Eager to get the party rolling he jumped out of bed and got dressed. As we descended the steps together our cousins, Jack and Mary’s crew almost knocked us over in an attempt to escape each other’s attempts to kill one another with their new nerf dart guns. And Jake, our full grown black Labrador Retriever was hot on their heels.

Soon Grandma and Grandpa showed up and cozied up to the fireplace where a beautiful fire was roasting the living room. Grandpa took off his shoes and put his feet on the hearth. “Grandpa, be careful there, I know you have no feeling in your feet and it can get pretty hot there.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a defiant tone.

I went to the kitchen to finish the preparations for dinner. Removing the turkey from the oven I was just about to pull the stuffing from the turkey’s bottom region when to my surprise and entire bag came out with organs and such. I could almost hear the headless foul laughing at me as it cried out, “I ate my twin in the womb.” Dropping the hot contents to the floor I screamed for my husband. His parents had just arrived and they followed him to the kitchen, where I explained the dilemma, I had just cooked a pregnant turkey!

His mother teetered on her heels as she laughed out loud at the scene. I didn’t know what was so funny, and didn’t want to know. Tears streaked from my eyes as the twelve cousins, ran through the kitchen, into the family room and Jake stopped long enough to see the fetal turkey, “No, Jake,” I cried out, and his attention was back to the children, where he and they promptly knocked over our entire Christmas tree.

My own parents let themselves into our home and Mom calmed me by explaining that they were gizzards in the turkey. With this information I was able to move on to complete cooking and get everything to the table. As I hollered out for everyone to join in the dining room I heard a holler from outside. I ran to the front yard to find Uncle Jack in a Santa Claus suit, stuck in our chimney. “Oh no,” I yelled as I dialed 9-1-1.

With Uncle Jack and his sack of toys safely extracted from the chimney by the fire department we returned to the house to enjoy a lovely dinner. But 9-1-1 was dialed again when we discovered Grandpa’s socks had melted to his feet and he never felt a thing, the sad effects of diabetes. An ambulance appeared and wrapped his piggy toes in bandages and advised him to have them checked for infection.

“Dinner is served,” I said, still trying to keep my cool.

“Where is Keith?” Aunt Mary asked. 

My husband, Ralph, went on a search and brought the boy inside by his very collar, Keith was testing out his new pellet gun on all of our headlights.

Settled down, we began to eat, when Grandma had to cough, forgetting to cover her mouth she sent her false teeth flying out of her mouth and they landed right in the middle of the bowl of creamed corn.

So, Santa, as you can see, it is imperative you bring a new family to me.

Love,

Gina Myers