Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Comedy

  There she was, shifting from side to side in her chair, before finally passing the gravy. Bum, bum, dah, dee, dee, dah. Sounds of Debbusy danced in the air. Her mind and lips couldn't shake the dream like melody. Throughout her day it played on repeat in her head.
  ''Thank you Jennifer.'' Whispered the tall bearded man who was her father. Grasping the gravy jar with his fat but delicate hands. The stress of work pertruding through his mind and onto his face. Being laid off, and the stresses of life ran wild in his head. Taking his share he passed it along.
  ''Very warm.'' Jens mother stated delicatly, as her cold pale hands took hold of the jar. I hope there's enough to go around, last year there wasn't, her mother's thoughts ran off. That recipe for squash called for 2 sticks of butter, I just hope 1 1/2 is enough.
  The jar stopped at her nieces side. Kristen, halfway paying attention, quickly put her phone away to take the jar next. Taking her share and praying to God the vibrations in her pocket didn't bring on another dick pic. 
  Grampa was next to receive the delicious juice. With out a word, and a tired body, he repeatedly slapped the gravy to his plate. Clang, clang, clang. He was done worrying about Dr. Mags concerns about his heart. 
  Grama passed when it was her turn for the jar. She did not want a repeat of last year. Two hours on the toilet over spoiled gravy was not going to happen again. 
  Letting out a sly giggle, knowing full well shy she passed, Charlie took the jar from her. ''Well I'll take my chances.'' He laughed. Filling his plate and digging in. 
  As for me dear reader, well I will pass. I never did much like gravy. But I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving and a pleasant day with your loved ones. And remember, don't forget to pass the gravy. 

End notes. : song in head was Clare de Lune by Claude Debussy