Thanksgiving is just a few days away and you’re still trying to recover from the previous years festivities.
Your Uncle Gabe attempted to fry the turkey in a deep fryer, which led to him setting fire to most of the barn, part the house, and all of his face. He burned off all of his hair. (Even the hair around his naughty bits.)
Your Uncle Finster was on his way when he was pulled over by a police officer, which led to the following conversation:
Police Officer: there are 15 empty cans of Coors Light on the seat next to you.
Uncle Finster: it’s a long drive–at least 20 minutes.
Police Officer: there’s a child in the backseat playing with a revolver.
Uncle Finster: it’s not loaded.
Police Officer: the child next him is playing with the bullets.
Uncle Finster: don’t worry, she never shares.
Luckily for Finster the police officer was called away due to a convenience store being robbed.
Your cousin Milton was arrested for robbing a convenience store.
It turned into a hostage situation, but since he was the only customer, he was forced to take himself hostage. The police stormed the store, so he shot himself leg. As they dragged him away he was heard yelling, “I didn’t want to do it, but they gave me no choice.”
Your cousin Milton is stupid.
Your aunt Peggy announced that she had taken one of those DNA tests and discovered she is 46% troll. She declared she was going to leave your uncle Karl, live under a bridge, never bathe, consume nothing but other people refuse and rats, and engage in occasional tussles with goats.
Basically her normal routine, just under a bridge.
Your uncle Karl seemed pretty okay with it all.
There were two stabbings last year, but that was down from previous years. You’re hoping that trend continues.
There’s bound to be a few drunken brawls, but you hid your uncle Philbert’s crossbow, so nobody should lose an eye this year.
Your in-laws will gather outside around a barrel fire like a homeless rabble and drink copious amounts of liquor as they shiver and lament their obvious and dreadful life choices. But at least they’ll be outside.
Your aunt Zelda will bring her famous potato salad, so there will be vomiting…some of it projectile. But you’ve invested in a case of Pepto Bismol and a disposable mop.
This year you’re feeling good about things. You’re feeling confident. You’re feeling prepared. You’re feeling hopeful.
Who are you kidding–it’s going to be a disaster.