Due to Uncle Earl’s behavior last year, he will not be invited to attend the Booths’ family Thanksgiving this year.
Last Thanksgiving, Earl pulled up to the Booths’ family home in his beat-up blue 2005 Chevrolet Silverado, which marked its territory like a dog, peeing oil down the driveway.
He got out of his truck, walked to the front door and rang the bell. To his sister Sarah’s surprise, she was unpleasant to say the least when she saw he looked like he had not showered in a week and smelled like rotten eggs.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Earl. You’re looking good,” Sarah said hesitantly, admiring his blackened, stained jeans, black leather jacket, biker t-shirt with a woman in a bikini on it, his red Make America Great Again hat, greasy, long black hair and unkept Santa beard.
“Aw, thank you, Sis! You’re always so kind. Don’t know what I’d do without ya,” Earl said.
“Yeah, me too…” Sarah said. “Why don’t you head inside and join everyone. We’ve all been waiting for you at the table to start dinner.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Earl said. “That damned truck out there wasn’t starting and was frozen over like your soul.”
“Oh my God, Earl! Do not speak like that here,” Sarah said.
“Oh, you know me. Can’t be too promisin’, Sis,” Earl said, with a wink and a flash of his missing front tooth.
Sarah let him inside and walked him through the living room to the dining room table, where the family sat. At the table, Sarah’s husband John sat to the right of her empty seat, among a mix of aunts and uncles. The kids sat at the end with their partners, which included Matthew, Sarah and John’s daughter Matilda, Chloe and James, and Georgia and Scott.
“I saved you your own seat down there on the end next to the kids, Earl,” Sarah said. “Behave yourself now.”
“I’ll do my best, Sis,” Earl said. “My apologies in advance if this mouth of mine goes on sayin’ too much.”
Earl sat down at the end of the table, with his niece Matilda on his right and her boyfriend Matthew to his left. After everyone was settled at the table, John tapped his glass for everyone to get quiet for prayer.
“Lord, thank you for gathering us all together for this meal,” John said. “Please watch over us as we eat and fill our conversations with love and laughter. In your precious name we pray, Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone replied.
As the silverware clinked and everyone dug into their food happily, Earl broke the silence.
“This sure is the best turkey you’ve ever made, John,” Earl said. “I never knew somethin’ this good could ever come from you.”
“Excuse me, Earl,” Sarah said.
“Oh, my bad. Just joshin’,” Earl said, pausing. “I forgot to mention this to everyone. Listen up now, you on the end, and slow down the food for a second. I brought a little somethin’ for us all to share.”
Earl reaches into his black leather jacket pocket, pulls out a dead squirrel in a plastic ziploc bag and throws it on the table. Everyone gasps at the horrendous sight, with the dead squirrel coated in blood and guts that line the inside of the ziploc.
“Oh my God, Earl! How dare you bring such a filthy thing to our Thanksgiving and throw it on my dinner table,” Sarah said.
“You need to cool it down, Sis. You’re all a bunch of wussies,” Earl said.
“Don’t talk back to me at my dinner table and call us names,” Sarah said.
“I’m telling you, Sis. It ain’t a big deal,” Earl said. “Cool your jets. This is part of the reason I was running a little late. I had run over this squirrel here on the road, had to clean up its slime and guts off the front of my car and threw it in this baggie for us all to enjoy. We’ll just throw it in the microwave now and have us a nice piece of meat.”
“We’re not eating that filthy mess! Get up from this table now, and get out of my house,” Sarah exclaimed.
“Fine, then. I guess I’ll get on my way and enjoy this squirrel myself,” Earl said.
Earl got up from the dinner table, grabbed his squirrel for later and headed out the front door. He will no longer be invited to the Booths’ home for any holidays.
