Friendsgiving 3.0

Tad, a big bowl of popcorn in hand, walked out of Trixie’s kitchen and sat down beside her on the couch.  The TV blared the score of the football game the two were watching.  With a small bet hinged on the outcome of the game, the two became anxious each time one of the teams came close to the end zone.

“Here.” Tad thrust the bowl toward Trixie.  “Anything happen while I was gone?”

Trixie popped a few kernels into her mouth before replying.  “Nope.  Unless you plan to buy a lot of beer or a pickup truck.” She chewed, then looked at Tad, puzzled.  “No melted butter on the popcorn?”

“Nope.  Doesn’t need it.”

Shrugging, she tossed a few more kernels into her mouth.  “It just tastes better that way.”

Tad propped his stockinged feet on the ottoman and grabbed a handful of popcorn, tossing a few pieces into his mouth.

“By the way, have you decided what we’re bringing to Friendsgiving this year?  Mart was talking about it yesterday.”

Trixie stopped chewing and turned to face Tad, her eyes narrow and cool.  “Have I decided what WE’RE taking to Friendsgiving?  And will I be making this whatever?”

“Come on, Belden.  You know what I mean.  After all, if I decided what we were going to take, it’d be chips and dip.  But you, you’ll fret, then come up with something pretty good.”

Trixie shook her head.  “Nope.  Not letting you off the hook that easily.  How about you hit the internet and find something that WE make together.”

Tad sighed loudly. “I guess I could do that.”

“Think positive, Webster.  I know you can do it.”

“But I forget, what did Brian want us to bring?”

Trixie rolled her eyes.  “We just talked to him last week at Sunday dinner.  Gleeps, Tad!”

Tad grinned mischievously.  “Yes, but I was with the most wonderful woman in the world and just couldn’t think about anything else.”

Trixie stuck her finger into her mouth and made a gagging motion.  “Good try, Webster, but you are still assigned the task of finding us an appetizer to take to Brian’s.”

With the roar of the stadium crowd echoing across the room, the two returned their attention to the game where play was starting on the ten yard line near the touchdown zone.  They anxiously watched as three plays resulted in no forward gain.

“This is it,” announced Tad. “If my team scores, we’ll go into halftime ahead by two touchdowns.”

Beside him, Trixie scowled and stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Come on,” she muttered.  “Block that ball or intercept it.  Just don’t let them score.”

The next play resulted in no gains, then an attempted field goal was blocked.

“Yes!” shouted Trixie as she jumped up and did a short dance around the room.

“My team’s still ahead,” remarked Tad. “But go on with your show.  I’m enjoying it.”

Laughing, Trixie fell back onto the couch, then reached for her laptop computer.  

“Since it’s almost halftime, let’s get a start on looking for a recipe.”

Trixie flipped open the device and immediately began typing on the keyboard.  Within a few seconds, the two were salivating over the colorful pictures of appetizers and snacks that they had found.

“I’m surprised your brother wanted to host this year, especially since he just moved back and started his residency at Sleepyside Hospital.”

Trixie shrugged.  “He offered last year, so he was stuck.  Besides, since he’s now local, he no longer has to commute back and forth. Plus, he’s in that nice new townhouse with a whole lot of space.”

The two chuckled at the mention of Brian’s barren residence. Brian, Trixie’s oldest brother,  had earned his medical degree and then, when learning of an opening, had jumped at the opportunity to continue his studies at the Sleepyside Health Hospital.  Early on in his training, Brian had come to the realization that he preferred to get to know his patients and see them through their entire illness, not just focus on one part of it.  As he had said, “Working on patients like I’m on the Ford assembly line is not for me.” And so, when the residency for the Sleepyside Hospital was posted, Brian applied for it and got it. He then returned to Sleepyside and rented a townhouse in a new community that had just opened.

“And I feel that I can trust Brian to prepare an “appropriate” dinner, not one that is original, like last year’s,” continued Tad.

They remembered gagging as Dan offered a historically accurate platter full of cooked eels as the Thanksgiving entree.

“Yeah,” agreed Trixie.  “But I can’t help but wonder how Brian is going to have time to do all that cooking.”

Tad chuckled.  “We thought that last year to about Dan. But he managed to put his dinner together just fine.”

Trixie snorted.  “Dinner?  Is that what you’re calling it now.  Cuz I’m pretty sure that wasn’t our choice word last year. And “fine” is a huge exaggeration.”

Tad waved his hand through the air.  “Whatever.  Time has a way of altering memories, right?”

Trixie scowled.  “I don’t think there’s enough time to alter the image  of those stinkin’ eels.”

Seeing the game go into halftime, Trixie and Tad scrolled through several sites that had Thanksgiving appetizers then started checking out recipes for easy-to-make dishes too.  They stopped periodically to drool over an interesting recipe.

“Hey, how about that?” Tad pointed to a picture of a plate of small tarts filled with a spinach mixture.

“Greek Spinach Cups,” read Trixie.  She quickly read through the recipe then smiled.  “This might work.  I don’t have to do much except chop up an onion and mix some other stuff together. Good job, Tad.” she high-fived him.  “But you will have to cut out the circles from the dough.”

Tad nodded.  “We’ll work together.  It might even be romantic.” He kissed lightly down Trixie’s neck.  As she leaned into him, the game started back up.

“Later, Webster.” she shoved him away.  “There’s a game to be played and a bet to be won.”

Grabbing the remote, Trixie turned up the volume until the roar of the crowd sounded as if it were right outside her door.

 

The Saturday after Thanksgiving was cold and raw. Angry gray clouds hung low in the sky, promising a wet afternoon.  Both Tad and Trixie had had to be at work early that day, so they were both hoping to grab a quick nap before going to Brian’s. Unfortunately, they both slept longer than they wanted to so the preparation of the appetizer became a hurried affair.  Trixie furiously chopped an onion while Tad rolled out the phyllo dough.  

“Hey, it’s sticking to the rolling pin,” he complained.

“Sprinkle it with a bit of flour,” instructed Trixie as she grabbed a clove of garlic and began mincing it. “And I need you to wring out the spinach.”  

“Wring out the spinach?” Tad stopped and stared.  “How do I do that”

Trixie, frustrated, stopped and slapped her damp hands on her hips.   “Seriously, Webster.  Do I have to do everything?”

“No.  Just don’t tell me to do something when I have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, we’re making this together.  Far be it for us to arrive with this scrumptious dish we made and you claiming all the credit for it.”

“What happened to our romantic time in the kitchen spent cooking?” asked Trixie as she tossed Tad a clean dish towel.  

“We napped through it. Now what am I supposed to do with this towel?”

Trixie glared at Tad before dumping a box of spinach onto the towel then ringing it out over her sink.

“Oh, So that’s what you meant?” said Tad.

Trixie rolled her eyes then pointed at the pile of phyllo dough on her counter.  “Roll!”

With all the ingredients mixed, Tad and Trixie soon had several pans of the appetizers baking in the oven.  They hurriedly cleaned up the kitchen then got themselves ready.  

“Whew! We made it,” crowed Trixie as she placed the last tart on the serving platter.  “I was afraid we were going to be late and you know how I hate to miss a Bobwhite gathering.”

”Because you haven’t seen them in what, two days?” smirked Tad.

“Exactly.  And I have a suspicion this year is going to be the perfect gathering. Now let’s go, there’s a party afoot!”

Grabbing the plate and a bottle of wine, the two left Trixie’s apartment and headed over to Brian’s place.

 

A short time later, Trixie and Tad knocked on the door to Brian’s new townhouse.  A festive wreath of sunflowers and fall leaves surrounded the peephole and piles of pumpkins lay on either side of the porch step.

Tad looked around in amazement.  “Wow. Being a doctor has really improved Brian’s decorating skills.”

Trixie giggled.  “You noticed that too. But this all has the look of Moms’ handiwork.”

“I thought maybe he’d gotten a girlfriend.”

Trixie snorted.  “As if he has time for that.”

“Shhh,” whispered Tad as they heard the lock turning from inside.

“Happy Friendsgiving!” yelled Trixie when Brian opened the door.

“Right back at you,” Grinning, Brian stepped aside and ushered the two into his sparsely decorated apartment.  

Greetings and pleasantries crossed back and forth between Trixie, Tad, Honey, and  Dan.  Jim, scrolling through his phone, sat on a stool at the small bar that separated the living room from the dining room.  Mart and Diana had yet to make an appearance but Trixie knew that her brother was extremely busy at the garden center he ran.  

Brian helped Trixie with her coat then motioned her toward the couch where Tad and Dan were already discussing football.

“Ooh, I see you’ve been busy decorating the place,” teased Trixie, recognizing three old aluminum lawn chairs and an old trunk, covered with peeling and faded stickers, that he had scavenged from the Belden garage

Brian shrugged good naturedly.  “I do what I can.”

He sat in a lawn chair opposite the couch while Trixie proudly set her  hors-d'oeuvres on the trunk. An attractively arranged plate of cheese and crackers sat next to Trixie’s plate.

“Honey, did you bring that?”

Honey nodded.  “It’s all I had time to make. I really wanted to bring something more festive and keeping with the season but you know how busy law school is.”

Trixie frowned at her friend.  “No, thank goodness. I’ll have to take your word for it.”

She winked, then whirled around to her brother.

“Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen cooking?” she demanded, wagging her finger at him.  “After all, you said you had the entire meal taken care of and you didn’t need anybody to bring anything else.

Brian smiled sheepishly.  “I did say that.  And I do have everything taken care of.  But I must confess, I had a little help.”

“From whom?” asked Trixie suspiciously.  “And whomever it is, it’d better be good because if you think we’re going to suffer through another icky meal like last year…”

“Hey!” Dan sat up.  “It might not have been a delicious feast last year, but it definitely was authentic.”

Blushing, Trixie faced Dan.  “Sorry, Dan.  What I meant to say was that we haven’t yet recovered from that indescribably authentic repast from last year.”

Dan’s eyes narrowed.  “You look like Trixie but you sound like Mart.  What gives?”

Tad laughed.  “She’s just repeating what Mart said the other night.  But, it doesn’t matter what we eat as long as we get together.  Right, Trixie?”

“Yes,” answered Trixie, blushing at her own rude behavior.  

She picked up her plate of spinach cups and offered first choice to Dan, who, after giving the little tarts a speculative study, scooped up two and popped them into his mouth.  

“Hey, these are good!”

“Chew first,” admonished Honey who daintily selected her own tart.

“Yum, these are good.  Did you really make these?” she asked Trixie.

Trixie nodded.  “Tad and I whipped these up a little while ago.” She turned back to her brother.  “Now, about that help in the kitchen…”

Brian shrugged.  “Moms offered me all the leftovers from the open house.  So I have dishes of potatoes and stuffing in the oven, plus a corn casserole and an apple pie.  I thought I’d have more time to cook but it seems that I miscalculated at how much time I’d be spending at the hospital.”

Trixie nodded.  “At least we know the side dishes will be delicious.”

After sampling one of the spinach tarts, Trixie spoke again.  “So, I couldn’t help but notice that your front door looked rather festive.  Have you been scouring Pinterest for home decorating ideas?”

Another sheepish grin spread across Brian’s face.  “No. Moms hand again.”

“I knew it!” crowed Trixie.

Brian grabbed a spinach cup then settled back in his chair. “That’s right, little sister.  I’ve had some  assistance from Moms. But the turkey is all mine.”

“Turkey?”  Dan sniffed the air.  “Why don’t I smell it cooking?”

“That’s the beauty of my turkey,” grinned Brian.

“It has no smell?” quipped Trixie.

“No.  I’m going to deep fry it.”

“What?” Honey nearly choked on the wine she was sipping.

“Yeah.  A deep-fried turkey.  Originally, I had planned to stuff it,  work my suturing magic on it, then let it roast away.  But when I looked at my schedule, I realized I wouldn’t have enough time for that. So a guy at the hospital suggested I deep fry it.  He even leant me his gear.  He says his family does that every year and it makes the juiciest, tastiest bird you could ever imagine.”

“It’s true,” added Jim.  “I’ve been sitting here reading up on the instructions and the reviews and everybody raves about it.”

“Uh, Brian,” said Dan conspiratorially as he leaned forward.  “I don’t think I have to tell you how these Bobwhites will react if your dinner is anything less than perfect.”

A scowl crossed Trixie’s face but before she could reply, the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of Mart and Diana.

“So, what’s new?” asked Mart , who, after joining the group, grabbed a spinach cup and stuffed it into his mouth then reached for several slices of cheese.

“Just wait till you hear this.” Trixie waved her hands toward Brian.  “Guess who’s deep frying a turkey this year?”

Mart looked at his brother.  “Seriously?  I’ve heard that is one delicious way to prepare a turkey.  I’m proud to call you my brother.”

“We haven’t eaten it yet,” reminded Trixie.  “In fact, I don’t even think he’s cooked it.”

“Have you ever done this before,” asked Mart, looking a bit concerned.

“No.  But my friend explained everything to me. You just heat the oil, then dump in the bird.  In an hour or so, it comes out all crispy and cooked. What could be easier than that?”

Mart glanced toward the window.  “In your grand scheme, did you bother to check the weather radar?”

“No,” replied Brian as he cast a glance toward the window. “Why?”

“Cuz in about 20 minutes, it’s going to rain cats and dogs.”

“What?” Brian jumped up and rushed to check the sky.  He studied the swirling clouds that had now turned a dark shade of blue.   “I thought that was happening later,” he fretted as he ran his hands through his dark hair. “I knew it was raw, but I thought the rain was hours away.”

“Brian,” interrupted Jim, “I’ve got a tarp plus some tent stakes in the back of my car.  Why don’t we create a shelter for the turkey fryer.”

Brian studied his friend.  “You think that would work?”

Jim shrugged.  “Why not.  The flame won’t get anywhere near the tarp.  It should be fine.”

With that plan decided, the two tramped out to Jim’s SUV and returned with a bright blue plastic tarp.  They got busy nailing it to one side of the tall privacy fence that surrounded Brian’s patio.   Then they stretched out the tarp and nailed the other edge into the soggy ground of the green space outside Brian’s patio.

“There,” declared Jim. “Your own little safe spot.”

Brian studied the makeshift shelter before agreeing.  “Catastrophe averted.  Thanks, Jim.”

Jim grinned.  “Always happy to help a fellow Bobwhite.”

Back in the apartment, the group chatted and watched a football game.  Trixie, Honey and Diana were eager to settle some plans for another get together at Christmas. After a few minutes, Brian excused himself and left the room with Jim following behind.

Diana poked Mart.  “Don’t you think you should go help your brother?”

“No.  I’m fine sitting here eating these delicious appetizers and watching the game. And don’t ask Dan to help because we all know that would be a big mistake.”

Dan glared at Mart.  “Nice.  Did you leave your manners at work today?”

“No.” Mart scooped a spinach cup into his mouth.  “Hey, these spinach things are delicious.  Who made them?”

Trixie glared at her brother.  “Tad and I did.”

Mart’s eyes met Trixie’s.  “Despite that, they’re still delicious.”

“Oh, you…”  Trixie moved toward Mart but Tad caught her around the waist and pulled her back down on the couch next to him.

“Can I get you some wine?” he asked.

“Fine,” huffed Trixie.

While Tad was filling Trixie’s glass, Brian and Jim came in from the back yard.  

“Whew!” exhaled Brian.  “It’s really chilly out there and the wind is kicking up. But don’t worry guys, that won’t affect the cooking of the turkey.”

“It better not,” warned Mart.

“It won’t. C’mon guys. Let me show you my set-up. And when you taste the amazing results of a deep fried turkey, you’ll wonder why we never did it this way before.”

The Bobwhites grabbed their coats then they all trouped out the back door and huddled under the blue tarp that fluttered and flapped above the turkey fryer that was suspended over a propane tank. Several empty gallon jugs of oil sat nearby in a neat row.

“Wow!” exclaimed Diana as she pulled her coat tighter around her throat.  “It’s really cold out here.  Are you sure the tarp is going to hold?”

Jim nodded.  “It’ll be fine.  Brian and I made sure it was secure. See.” Jim pointed to the placed along the edges of the tarp that were firmly attached to the fence.  “And the other side is just as secure in the ground.”

“Okay,” said Diana dubiously. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Jim offered Diana a reassuring grin.

Brian explained  the set-up, then held up a big turkey secured to several wire prongs.  “And now ladies and gentlemen, the bird.”

He carefully lowered the turkey into the hot oil. Immediately, it began to sizzle and bubble in the hot oil.  

“See.  Nothing to it,” said Brian.  “Now all we have to do is let the frying do its magic.“

Mart rubbed his hands together.  “I can’t wait to partake in the deliciousness of this meal. But what about the sides?”

Brian shrugged his shoulders.  “All taken care of.  I was offered leftovers from Moms’ open house and I took them.  At this exact moment, they’re happily reheating in my oven.”

Just then, a big gust of wind blew across the yard and a smattering of raindrops beat against the backs of the Bobwhites.

“And with that, I’m back in the house,” announced Honey as she scampered toward the back door, the others following close behind.

Brian and Jim remained outside with Brian watching the turkey and Jim monitoring the fire.  Inside, the girls rooted around in Brian’s kitchen until they found the necessary tableware.  After refreshing their drinks, Dan, Mart, and Tad returned to watching their football game.  At one point, Brian came into the kitchen and made two hot mugs of coffee, then went back out to the precarious shelter of the tarp. The girls finished setting the table, then they too returned to the living room.  A sudden rain squall caused big, cold raindrops to pound against the window.

“I hope everything’s all right outside,” murmured Honey as she glanced toward the window.

“What could go wrong?” asked Mart.  “It’s Brian and I’m sure he has everything under control and in a short time we’ll have a delicious meal on the table.”

“He may be the responsible one and all that, but I’m going to go check on things,” announced Trixie.

She grabbed her coat and went out to the back yard.  But as she opened the back door, a big gust of wind blew across the yard, jerking the screen door out of her hands and slamming it against the brick facade. The banging was immediately followed by Trixie’s shrieking.

“Oh, no. Grab it, you guys.”

Leaving the door gaping open behind her, Trixie ran to help Jim and Brian as they all fought to hang on to the tarp that had come loose from where it had been staked into the ground. A continual onslaught of wind gusts shook and threatened the tarp, as it billowed up and down with each blow. The force of the wind proved to be too much and a few of the tent stakes loosened. Trixie fought to hold the tarp down while Brian attempted to reposition the stakes.

“Ouch!” Brian shoved his thumb into his mouth.

“What’d you do that for?” yelled Trixie.  “Don’t you know better than to hit your thumb with a hammer?”

“Just hold the damn thing still, will you?” Brian made several more swings  but the wet, slippery lawn beneath provided little purchase for the thin tent stake.

Suddenly, a particularly strong gust of wind blew the tarp out of Trixie’s hand.  Jim ran and fought to keep it under control,  frantically grasping   one corner of it.  But the pelting rain made the plastic slippery and the tarp suddenly broke free from Jim’s grip and sailed away over the rooftops of the neighboring townhouses, tumbling and twisting as it went.

Trixie,  her mouth agape, stared at the disappearing tarp while Jim and Brian tried to shelter the turkey fryer from the rain. Turning into the stinging assault of the cold raindrops,  she shouted, “Now what?”  

“Go get an umbrella,” ordered Brian.  Cold rain ran down his forehead and into his eyes while his light jacket did little to protect him from the weather.

Trixie dashed toward the back door, that was now filled with all the Bobwhites who were watching, with complete amazement,  at the spectacle in the backyard.

“Out of my way,” ordered Trixie.  “He needs an umbrella.”

“He’ll need more than an umbrella,” advised Dan. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a caterer.”

“Ha! Ha!” smirked Trixie who was rummaging through Brian’s coat closet.  When she returned, she held a small collapsible umbrella in her hand.  

“Uh, Trixie, do you think that will do the job?” asked Dan.

“It’ll have to; it’s all he’s got.”

She pushed through the small group and went back outside into the wind and rain.  Her hair was soaked and her wet jeans clung to her legs. Despite the chill, she ran through the intensifying rain to the turkey fryer.  Handing the umbrella to her brother, Trixie stepped back as Brian tried to open it. But the gusting wind flipped the umbrella inside out and then against the tripod that was supporting the turkey.  

“Look out!” yelled Brian as she shoved Trixie aside.

Brian, Jim and Trixie watched as the turkey fryer tipped over, spewing hot oil across the yard.  The sizzling turkey rolled down a slight incline, collecting twigs and dead leaves as it traveled, finally coming to rest in a small puddle.  

“Gleeps,” yelled Trixie.  “Look at that.”

“Watch the propane tank,” yelled Jim, pointing to the tottering canister.

But it was too late,  The tank tipped over. The ground, covered with a trail of hot oil, quickly ignited, the flame following the expanding path. The pelting rain did nothing to douse the flames, as they spurted and sparked across the dead lawn.

“Call the fire department,” yelled Brian as he and Jim tried to stamp out the flames.

Trixie again ran back to the house, but Dan was already on the phone.  

“Quick, what do you throw on a grease fire,” demanded Trixie.

“I don’t know.  I’ll check.”  Tad pulled out his phone and began typing in a search.

“Really?  Nobody knows?” yelled Trixie, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Salt!” answered Tad.  He ran to the dining room table and grabbed the salt shaker. “Here!”

Trixie stared at the salt shaker.  “Do you really think this will help?” she shrieked.  “I need lots of salt.”

Meanwhile, Diana and Honey were tearing through Brian’s cabinets in search of more salt or baking soda while Dan watched for the fire department. Mart, a devastated look on his face, stood at the window and watched the backyard activities.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching sirens heightened the chaos.  Within a minute, a team of firefighters in full gear, raced through the kitchen and into the yard.  After barking out several orders, one disappeared, then returned with fire extinguishers.  They sprayed down the greasy flames as well as the turkey, which was now a quivering blob of shiny, smelly foam.  

Standing with Brian and Jim, Trixie watched as the firemen made certain the fire was out.  She listened as they talked about what one should always have available in case of a grease fire.  Then the firemen turned, walked back through Brian’s townhouse, and left.  A few minutes later, Trixie, Jim and Brian came in.  After peeling off their wet coats and shoes, they stumbled into the living room, where Bobwhite faces, marked with disbelief, stared at them.

“How could this happen?” moaned Mart.  “How could we lose yet another Thanksgiving dinner? I don’t suppose there’s any way to save it?” Getting no response, he dropped his head into his hands and continued to moan.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Dan softly.  “A grease fire that burned in a neat strip across the back yard while it’s pouring down rain and blowing like crazy. Un-freakin’ believable!”

Brian and Jim, uncomfortable in their wet clothing, headed upstairs so Brian could find them some dry clothes.

“Come on, Trixie,” called Brian.  “I’m sure I can find something for you to change into.”

Trixie padded up the stairs, her jeans making a sloshing noise as they rubbed back and forth.  “Okay, but whatever you find isn’t going to fit me.”

“I never said it would,” replied Brian.  “You’ll just have to make do.”

“Make do?” grumbled Trixie.  “That seems like the rule of the day.  Gleeps!”

A few minutes later Trixie reappeared wearing a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, both of which had been rolled up and cinched in order to fit her. She crossed the living room and took her seat next to Tad, snuggling close for warmth.

“Brrrr.  It’s pretty cold out there,” she shivered

“I’d offer you a spinach cup but Mart finished those.”

“Figures,” snarled Trixie.

The gentle pounding on the stairs announced the return of Brian and Jim, both wearing sport pants and flannel shirts.  Their wet hair clung to their foreheads and their hands were still wrinkled and pruny from the exposure to the rain.

Brian flopped down on the lawn chair and sighed, “I can’t believe that turkey caught fire. How could that have happened.  I had everything planned out. And Jim,” he cast a stern look toward his friend, “You read the directions too.  How did we screw this up.”

“Well, it is the Bobwhite Friendsgiving,” offered Diana with a sly grin.

Beside her on the couch, Mart whimpered softly and rubbed his belly.   “Dinner was here one minute and gone the next.”

“Kinda like the tarp and the wind, huh?” asked Trixie.

“Exactly,” nodded Mart sadly.

‘Hey!” Trixie sat up.  “What’s that?  It still smells like something’s burning. Is your backyard on fire again?”

The group all sniffed the air.  “Something is definitely burning,” agreed Diana.

“Oh, no,” wailed Mart as he jumped up.   “It’s the rest of the dinner.”  

Mart raced into the kitchen.  Wisps of smoke were escaping from the oven.   Grabbing a pair of oven mitts, Mart tried to open the oven door.  But it refused to budge.

“Hey, Brian,” he yelled.  “What’s the trick to your oven.  I can’t get it open.”

“Can’t get it open?” Brian bolted into the kitchen and shoved Mart aside.  

He pulled and tugged at the oven door, but it remained firmly latched.  The wisps of smoke turned into spiraling curls as more poured out.  

“What's wrong with this thing?” yelled Brian.  “Why won’t it open?”

“Don’t you know how to use your oven?” demanded Mart.

“I’ve never used it until today.”

“Uh, Brian,” began Dan but before he could finish, the smoke alarms went off, filling the smoky kitchen with a piercing squeal.  

“Do something,” ordered Mart.

“Yeah?  Like what?  The door must be jammed or something,” yelled Brian.

Behind the two brothers, the rest of the group stood in a circle, each one shouting out suggestions to get the door open.  But nothing worked. Finally, Tad stepped up to the stove and pointed.

“Brian,” he yelled over the blaring alarm.  “I think you set your oven to self-clean instead of bake.  Look at the control pad.”

Brian looked at the front of the stove and the display that read  Clean- 2 hrs remain.

Brian stared at the message then gave the door several more tugs.  He started punching at the buttons but nothing stopped the self cleaning cycle.  

“Anybody got any ideas?” he shouted.

“Yeah!” answered Dan.  “Go pull the batteries out of the smoke detector.”

“Got it,” yelled Tad.  

He ran over to the detector that was sitting high up on the wall and tried to pull it off.  But it also refused to budge.  

“Tad!” yelled Trixie.  “Just pull out the batteries already.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not” demanded Trixie, as she ran over and stood beside him, her hands reaching up to help.

“Because the detector won’t even come off the wall.”

“It won’t come off the wall?” Mart glared at his brother.  “Now what are you going to do?”

Brian, an exasperated look on his face, glared back.  “What do you expect me to do?”

“Guys!” commanded Honey.  “Just get the smoke alarm and the oven turned off.”

“How?” Brian slammed his fist on the top of the stove.

“Turn off the power or something,” suggested Diana.

Jim bolted to the fuse box and after a few minutes of flipping switches, finally located the ones that fed the smoke alarm and the oven.  After he turned them off, an uneasy silence filled the kitchen. Dan ran to the back door, opened it and began waving the plumes of smoke toward the back yard.  Diana rushed over with a damp dish towel to help, while Mart stared at the oven, its digital face dark and lifeless.

Brian fussed with the lock until it finally released and the oven door opened.  Smoke billowed out, keeping the group busy as they tried to shush it out the back door.  When the smoke had cleared, Brian pulled out the casserole dishes. One was cracked while the others were blackened by the extreme heat of the oven.  Setting them on the stove top, Brian carefully peeled back the foil that topped them, revealing crusty and charred contents.

“Well?  What do you guys think?  Can we still eat it?” asked Brian.

“Still eat it?” exploded Trixie.  “By the time we get done scraping off the charred part, there won’t be anything left.”

“She’s right,” added Tad, as his stomach rumbled loudly. “Trixie, we should have made more spinach cups.”

Mart began pounding the sides of his head.  “Come on, Mart,” he mumbled.  “Wake up.  This is all a bad dream.”

Dan slapped Mart on the back.  “Sorry, pal, but this is our new reality.  A turkey covered with all sorts of garbage and soaking wet plus a smattering of side dishes that are burned to a crisp and inedible.”

Mart lowered his head onto the kitchen counter and banged it.  “I can’t handle this,” he said softly as he head thumped repeated on the counter.

“Oh, come on, Mart,” prodded Trixie.  “At least you don’t have to clean up these dishes.”

An uneasy silence filled the kitchen.  Finally, Brian asked,

“Who wants to scrape?”

Nobody replied.

“Okay, who wants to wash?”

Again, there were no replies.

“Fine!” Brian ran his hand through his damp hair.  “What do you think I should do?”

“Honestly?” questioned Honey.

Brian nodded.

“I think you throw all these dishes out and just buy your mother some new ones.”

Brian grabbed a trash bag from his sparse pantry and carefully placed the casserole dishes inside.  Then he carried the bag out to his dumpster. When he returned, the Bobwhites were still gathered in the kitchen. The table, set and ready for the scrumptious feast, now looked forlorn and forgotten.  

“Now what?” asked Trixie.

Brian shook his head.  “I have no idea. I don’t have any real food in the house because I was going to use all Moms’ leftovers.”

“Do you have any food?” demanded Mart.

“Just boxes of microwave popcorn that I bought from the Cub Scouts.”

Dan shrugged.  “Well, the Indians did give us popcorn.  I learned that last year when I was researching my dinner.”

“And we still have plenty of wine and beer,” added Jim.

“I also have a jar of stuffed olives in my refrigerator,” said Brian with a snap of his fingers.

“Hmm...popcorn and olives.  Not exactly a traditional repast but at this juncture  my digestive system is experiencing something akin to complete agony, if not…”

“Shut up, Mart!” Trixie elbowed her brother in the side. “So, popcorn and olives it is  Let’s get to work.”

Shooing the rest of the group to the living room, Brian grabbed the box of microwave popcorn from the top shelf of his pantry and opened it, piling a dozen individual packets on the counter while Trixie stood by, ready to help.  He popped the first one into his microwave, then got out several big bowls. When the first batch was done, he started another.  Trixie, beside him, loudly cleared her throat as she stared at the finished product.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she asked.

“I think I already answered that question,” snapped Brian.

Trixie pulled out her phone and began scrolling through it.

“Trixis, do you think this is the time to check your email?”

“I’m not.” answered Trixie.

She tapped at her phone a few times then began to read.  Brian finished another batch of popcorn and started a new one.

Finished with her reading, Trixie put her phone back into her pocket.

“Okay, Brian.  Here’s what we’re going to do.  Grab the butter from the table. We’re going to melt it, add some special ingredients then make this popcorn memorable. Now, do you have any olive oil, taco seasoning, parmesan cheese or truffle oil?”

Brian turned and stared at his sister.  “Truffle oil?  Really?”

Trixie rapidly shook her head, causing her still damp curls to stick to the side of her face.  “Okay, forget the truffle oil.  I’ll just check for myself to see what you have.”

She rummaged through Brian’s meager stash of cooking supplies, piling a few small spice tins on the counter.  A quick sprint to the living room resulted in a somewhat smashed dark chocolate bar she had grabbed from the bottom of her bag which she added to her pile of ingredients.  

“What are you planning on doing, Trixie?”  Brian opened another packet of popcorn and put it into the microwave.  

Trixie grabbed the hot, freshly popped corn and poured it into a bowl.  She then drizzled it with olive oil and generously sprinkled it with salt.  When the next batch was ready, she put it into a bowl, then added melted butter and parmesan cheese.  Brian continued to feed packets of popcorn to the microwave while Trixie took the finished product and worked on it.  

“I’ve got two left,” announced Brian.

“Okay.  Those will be the dessert popcorn.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see,” winked Trixie.  “Just trust me.”

While Brian monitored the microwave, Trixie went into the living room and told the group to get ready for dinner.

“And, Tad,” she added.  “Could you please get me another glass of wine.”

Turning, Trixie paused briefly to light the candles on the table before disappearing back into the kitchen where Brian had finished popping the corn and had poured it into a large pan.

“What’s that?” asked Trixie when she saw the pan sitting on the counter.

“I only have so many bowls, Trixie, and you used them all.  This was the biggest container I could find.”

Trixie shrugged.  “It’ll work.  Now watch this.”

Trixie dropped the chocolate bar into an empty coffee mug and quickly melted it.  Then she drizzled it over the popcorn, followed by a generous sprinkle of salt and a handful of pretzels from a wrinkled bag she’d found back in the corner of the cupboard.

“Done!” she announced.  

Brian and Trixie carried the bowls of the now gourmet treat and set them on the table.  

“And now,” announced Brian.  “Our annual Friendsgiving Feast can begin.”

The Bobwhites passed the bowls of popcorn around the table, oohing and aahing over the aromas that rose from them.  

“Wow!” exclaimed Mart.  “This is really good. When did you become such a gourmet chef, Brian?”

“I can’t take the credit for this.  Trixie put it all together.”

“Trixie!” exclaimed the group.  

Trixie blushed.  “Stop.  It’s not that hard.  I just googled ways to spruce up popcorn.  And...voila!”

“I want some more of the chocolate popcorn,” said Diana as she scooped a handful of it onto her plate.  “It’s yummy.”

By the time all the bowls were empty, the Bobwhites were full and contented as they pushed themselves away from the table.

“This Friendsgiving is definitely the best one so far,” declared Diana.  

“I agree,” said Honey.  “And, unlike last year…”

“Don’t say it,” cautioned Dan.  “I don’t want to hear one more word about my authentic dinner last year.”

“If you would have let me finish, I was going to say there were no hurt feelings this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Dan thoughtfully. “I forgot that Mart stormed out then returned and apologized.”  He lightly punched Mart in the shoulder.  “That was nice of you, buddy.”

“Shut up, Mangan,” snarled Mart.  “I wouldn’t have stormed out if you had prepared a normal dinner.”

“Guys,” said Jim in a stern voice.  “Are we really going to have to sit through another rehashing of last year’s dinner?”

The good natured bickering stopped and the room became silent.

“So, are we going to do this next year?” asked Honey.

“How could we not do Friendsgiving?” questioned Trixie.  “Is that even possible?”

“Of course not.  We just need a volunteer to host next year’s festivities,” said Dan. He popped the last olive into his mouth.  “Now which brave Bobwhite is it going to be?”

Around the table, the Bobwhites looked at each other, none willing to make the offer.  Finally a palm slapped on the table.

“Fine.  I’ll do it.  I should probably up my fire insurance though.”

“Ha! Ha!” said Trixie drily.  

The Bobwhites finished their unusual meal in the candlelight room while the football game glowed eerily on.  Outside, the afternoon light faded rapidly, while the cold rain continued to pound against the windows.  But the Bobwhites never noticed; they were too busy having fun at their annual Friendsgiving Feast.

Word count - 6649

Author’s Notes:  A big thank you to my sister, Judith, who edited this story.  Also, thank you to Vivan for her original background.  Top image from mycutegraphics.com and bottom image from pixabay.com.

Pinterest - an American social media site that offers diverse projects.

Cub Scouts - a part of the Scouting program offered by Boy Scouts of America.

Friendsgiving 2 Point Oh!!!...