Dear Agony Aunts
As usual this year my husband’s family will come over to our place for a Thanksgiving dinner. They join us each year for a fun-filled evening of “I told you so,” “Do those kids have to do that” & “Where’s the beer?”
Also, as usual, they won’t lift a finger to help, they will eat like starved rats (but with less manners & style) & they will drink until they fall out of their chairs. I, on the other hand, will clean the house, fetch the shopping, prepare, cook & serve the meal; all before clearing away the remains of the joyous feast, washing the dishes, putting them away & dishing out more beer, whiskey & gin (this latter a favorite with Auntie Eth, who will throw-up after around 2 hours of solid drinking because of “food poisoning.”).
My husband will play his usual role of key “Where is the fridge” & “I’ll have another, while you’re up” shouter & the kids will mainly be running around shouting & trying to beat Auntie Eth to the first “throwing-up” of the day.
It’s not all bad, of course, after I’ve finished cleaning-up the vomit I’ll be able to sit down with & stare at the empty bottle of sherry I had hidden under the couch & which, it will turn-out, was knocked-back on the side by Auntie Eth to take away the taste of the “cheap gin”.
Don’t even let me get started on his mother & her “This place could do with a good clean,” or his father, who grabs my ass every time I walk past him.
Anyway, this year it will be different; I’ve bought a reasonably discrete assault rifle & a matching grenade set &, needles to say, I’m not expecting to have to look up a turkey’s ass ever again – & I’m off to sunny Venezuela by the first flight on Friday morning.
Any ideas on something novel for a “farewell” dessert?
“Elizabeth”
Dear “Elizabeth”
Don’t do it. Even the slowest plod will be pretty clear on what has happened & you will no doubt become entangled in one of those tiresomely televised “shoot-outs” that tends to end with the phrase “Before turning the gun on herself.”
Ditch the gun & grenade combo & try a little inventiveness in the kitchen. Auntie Eth (& we all have one of those) will be surprised to find out just how effective “food poisoning” can be for dealing with life’s more irritating contributors. Managed properly (& we’ve mailed you our e-pamphlet “Accidents in the home & how to engineer them”) you can finish off the whole evil brood, sob onto the comforting shoulder of a sympathetic doctor as he signs the death certificate, file the insurance claims, collect the “accidental death” certificates from the coroner & still hit the Black Friday sales.
As for a farewell dessert, how about our famous fruit surprise (see chapter 7) which does exactly what it says on the box?
Thanksgiving is a time to make sure you have something to give thanks for, in our opinion.
Aunts
ThursdayAgain 
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