Thanksgiving is here,

For some a time of cheer,

For others a time of fear,

Because family is near.

 

They come from all over,

From their little sections of Earth,

To spend time by your hearth.

 

This can be fun,

Or a reason to run,

I guess it depends,

On if you are friends.

 

There is food and there is drink,

Tempers are on the brink,

The things some will say,

May make you throw up in the sink.

 

Just try to endure,

And with any luck,

There will be alcohol,

To help it go by in a blur.

 

Perchance you are of a family,

Who actually has fun,

How strange this is,

For us who’d rather run.

 

You’ll have turkey,

You’ll have pie,

No one will tell a lie,

Everyone just eats their fill,

And then sits back with a sigh.

 

But for the majority,

That’s just wishful thinking,

Day’s end will have them feeling,

Like a minority,

The day will be long,

And so many things will go wrong.

 

Dad will be rude,

He’ll eat way too much food,

Brother will mean well,

But still he’ll make you feel like Hell,

Mom and sister will do their best,

But won’t be able to prevent,

The inevitable unrest.

 

Voices will be raised,

And feelings will be hurt,

With all that goes awry,

It’s fortunate that fists don’t fly.

 

So this is Thanksgiving,

It’s what it has come to,

Imagine the Pilgrims of long ago,

What would they think,

Of our little zoo?

 

Flash back to that 17th Century Feast,

Year 1621,

This shit just wasn’t done,

Their meal was scant,

Just their own harvest and fowl,

Still they were joyous,

Not one wore a scowl,

If they were to come back,

Surely we’d give them a heart attack.