An story. And another.

And so another Turkey Day TO THE MAX comes to pass. As with last year, I spent the day with my mountain friends Shane and Erin, the only difference this time around being the minor detail that we all live in the same house.

Well, I suppose there were a lot of differences. This year we’re living in Erin’s brand spankin’ new house in a nice neighborhood of angry dogs and ADHD children, across the street from goats and chickens. Our new kitchen has tons of counter space, which was incredibly useful when it came to making homemade rolls, pumpkin pie, mud pie, mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey and three gallons of stuffing. I had to chop up five yellow onions for the stuffing, and the little fellers were so vicious that I needed to wear ski goggles to keep my face from melting.

My old roomie Erik the Great came over, bearing a lean an’ mean green bean casserole. As we stuffed ourselves silly we tossed out quips from Blazing Saddles, Invader Zim and all that, followed by long periods of silence as everyone focused on eating as much food as possible. After the meal everyone crashed hard, really hard, and we all dozed off on the couch watching Smallville and Mission Impossible.

Erik took off shortly thereafter, as he had to be up at 3:00 the next morning to open up his coffee shop for the 4:30 rush of professional shoppers. I haven’t heard from him since, so I will assume that he drowned in a human sea of bargain-seeking violence. Quite a shame, too, cuz he was a neat kid. I’ll never forget the stories… the one about being attached at the neck to an albatross, or the one about an apple at the end of an heron.

An blue heron.

Which is another story. An different story altogether.