Remember, in this story, heroes come in all shapes and sizes and can be found in the least expected places.
Too many villains, without a hero, means your story is too scary or too depressing. No need to worry. There are heroes wherever you look. One is my best friend.
Back to the Perfect Thanksgiving.....
Magdalena was a new cook so she double wrapped the turkey in tinfoil. This was fortunate because the twenty-five-pound Butterball turkey, glazed in government margarine, landed directly in a mudhole when Randall Michael Wall kicked it out the back door. Another stroke of luck - most of the neighborhood dogs were hiding under trailers because it was raining enemies and friends.
Living with the devil, Magdalena knew his ways and nuances so she waited patiently while he drank, her dad always drank more than usual on holidays. She kept one eye on the turkey laying out in the mud and one eye on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. She waited hours after the parade was over and finally, Randall Michael Wall was passed out.
Baby sisters were put on watch. Mama was sitting all nervousy in the living room biting her nails and watching a muted football game she cared nothing about while Magdalena quietly opened the back door and ran to the turkey. The movement caught the eye of Lt. Dan, a hungry, mangy black lab belonging to the neighbor. Lt. Dan had not eaten in two days. It was a race as good as the turkey run with the same rules. Anything goes. Elbows pumping, eyes on the prize, singular focus. Magdalena was not going to lose this race. Mud clung to her ankles, and she felt as if she were running in slow motion in a quicksand pit. Lt. Dan could smell the turkey now, he sped up and sunk his teeth into the turkey as Magdalena dove and slid across the muddy lawn on her stomach to scoop the turkey up. A twenty five pound, tin-foiled, greased Butterball turkey is not easy to scoop up. There was a battle, there was cussing, there was growling on both sides, there was a tug of war. Just when it looked like a starving dog would be the victor, Magdalena's mama appeared with a broom.
She was screaming, " Esto es nuestro pinche pavo, pero el stupido!" Roughly translated as, "That's our damn turkey, you stupid dog!"
She swatted at the dog and after three swings knocked the turkey loose. Magdalena, eighty five pounds dripping wet, scooped the turkey up and tucked it under her arm and ran like she recovered a fumble at the goal line and the entire defensive line was chasing her. She ran for the back door while Lt. Dan, pursued by mama with a broom, ran under the porch.
Magdalena won this race. It was as satisfying as winning a close race with a last second lean.
It would take a thorough scrubbing in the tub with a wash rag for most of the mud to come off the turkey. Then, it was patted dry with a kitchen towel and cooked and eaten in a meal that involved an abundance of hushed giggling and covered mouth burping.
Magdalena looked at her sisters and mother seated around the table, and Magdalena felt true contentment. Magdalena got her Norman Rockwell painting after all, and her mean ass dad, who took no charity, was none the wiser.
Later that night, Randall Michael Wall, woke from a hangover to a home still smelling of delicious turkey. He went to the kitchen and looked in the oven. He looked on the stove and opened mismatched lids on the pots to find potatoes, something orange, green beans, sticky mac n' cheese. No turkey, but damn did something smell good.
Randall Michael Wall opened the back door to pee off the porch. Lt. Dan was chewing on a turkey carcass. He went to get his gun to shoot the mangy dog. Lt. Dan was smarter than he looked and had already moved with his turkey carcass under the porch when the meanest man in the world returned with the gun.
No dog in sight.
Just for the hell of it, Randall Michael fired some shots at the mailboxes at the end of the row of trailers. He hit all three of them.
Author's Insight: Lt. Dan is the name of my family's first dog. He was a great dog and is single handedly responsible for ending my daughter's fear of dogs. While it is hard to just pick one, Lt. Dan just might be my favorite pet of all time. Do you have a favorite pet? Here's your chance to tell the world.
YOU ARE READING
A Tourist in Mayberry
General FictionThis is the real Mayberry where everything is not black and white. The real Mayberry where your neighbor keeps a collection below his house that's not talked about in polite company. The real Mayberry where the sheriff is trying to find more than on...
