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Paper Darts Fan Fiction II: “Corny” and “Dog”

2 Dec

It’s the second month of Paper Darts’s Flash Fiction contest. The two words that must be used this month are “corny” and “dog.” They don’t have to be used in any specific order, but you gotta use ’em. You just gotta. Here’s my submission below. If you love me, take like two minutes, got to the Paper Darts Facebook page and “like” my entry. Here’s a handy link! LINK!

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This Thanskgiving, my grandfather attempted to prove to me that his lawn mower was amphibious by driving it into a lake. The mower wasn’t amphibious, and neither was my grandfather, who sank like a rock immediately after hitting the cold water.

“Jesus, was that gramps?” my brother asked.

I sighed heavily. “Yes, that was …gramps.”

“Should we do something?”

“Save him?” My brother and I stood on the dock for some time weighing this possibility.

“He was kind of a bastard,” my brother said. He was right. Our grandfather was kind of a bastard.

“Here. I’ll jump in, swim around a little bit, then crawl out and look all disheveled. You run to the house and tell everybody that gramps drove into the lake but we couldn’t save him.”

“What about Thanksgiving dinner?” This we also weighed heavily.

“We can just make some corny dogs when we get home,” I say. “I don’t want to eat a big meal surrounded by mourners.”

“Fair enough. Let’s do this.”

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Shanksgiving Day.

2 Dec

I’m drunk. Does that give you any clue as to how great my Thanksgiving was? YEA YOU DON’T KNOW! *swings wildly with right. falls down. starts to cry. apologizes. mentions about being friends forever.* Anyway, You wanna hear about my Thanksgiving? Of course you do.

I wake up to the familiar smell of turkey. I love turkey. Every Thanksgiving I sleep with a turkey on my head. Another Irion Thanksgiving tradition is for my family to spend much of the night prior trying to find my turkey-helmet so they can keep me from sleeping with my head in it. The next day, I wake up and try to get my dad to put my turkey in with the one we’re already cooking.

“Come on, there’s room for both!”

“Kyle, that turkey smells rotten. You smell horrible.”

“You smell horrible.”

“Throw the turkey away or I’m going to purposely burn this meal and blame it on you.”

“But dad! You can’t!” My father reaches over to the temperature knob on the oven and slowly starts to turn it.

“Okay, okay! I’ll throw it away.”

I throw it away.

Next up on my Thanksgiving agenda is a lovely time watching the parade. The Macy’s Parade never ceases to entertain me. I love watching B-list celebrities lip sync songs I’ve never heard from Broadway shows that I’m not even sure exist. Like this, Perez Hilton singing Forever isn’t in My Lunch Box, from his upcoming musical Cut-off Overalls Make My Butt Look Happy.

After a few hours of that stuff, I usually take a shower and get ready for my family to come over. This year, though, my family is doing something a little different. This year, we’re to my grandmother’s to have Thanksgiving dinner with my extended family.

A natural showman, I love to enter rooms with a bang. I have my brother go in a few minutes before I do in order to warm up my family with a few jokes. He also sets a small boom box on the living room end table. As he walks in, I think someone sees me and waves. I act like I don’t see them, pulling out my phone and pretending to answer a call.

“Yes, Mr. President,” I say.

After the crowd is sufficiently warmed up and ready to be wowed, I give Nick the signal (Banging loudly on the front door and screaming the word “Now”). He flips on the stereo to our pre-determined entry-track, Clay Aiken’s If I Was Invisible. I turn the knob and the door and push it forward a few inches, then kick it open.

“Give some thanks for ROCK!” I scream, covered in feathers imitating a turkey’s plumage. I also have a waddle under my chin, but it just looks like a pair of fire-red testicles, so I take that off pretty soon after entering the room. Everyone claps unenthused, appeasing me in an attempt to get me to stop. A fan of any kind of applause, even the fake kind, I bow graciously and remove my costume.

Lunch was delicious. My family was delightful company. The day was beautiful and the Cowboys won. Also, dad didn’t hit anybody this year and grandpa didn’t try to convince everyone how his lawn mower was amphibious by driving it into a lake when no one was looking.

Happy Late Thanksgiving.

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