To read the rest of the stories by some fine authors, visit the Tuesday's Tales Web Site.
We sat down with the children at a small, rickety table for Thanksgiving dinner.
"Mom, I'm 29. Why do I still have to sit at the kid's table?" I asked my mother.
"There's no room at the adult table. Maybe next year." Mom said.
"You say that every year." I said.
"I don't mind sitting at the kid's table. I have the heart of a child. I keep it on a desk in my office." Eric said with a wicked grin.
"Oh, Eric, that's awful!" My mother said.
"Don't mind him." I punched him on the arm. "You only have an inner child because you have no outer adult."
"I can't take credit for the line. Stephen King said it first." Eric said.
"When will we get to sit at the adult table? I don't want to spend my Thanksgiving dinner wiping green bean casserole slobber from a toddler." I complained.
"You won't. Stop arguing." Eric said. "Food's coming."
The feast rivaled last year's meal. Crescent rolls fresh and warm from the oven made their way to our table. I grabbed two and so did Eric. Rather than send the basket of rolls back to the adult table, he put it in front of him.
"Crescent rolls are cool. They stay here." He said.
I shrugged it off and ignored him.
Succulent turkey made its way to our table. I took a thigh and some breast meat and passed it on to Eric, who took a leg and some breast meat.
"Eh, send the turkey back. Let the adults have it." Eric said as he handed the platter of turkey over to one of my uncles at the adult table.
The green bean casserole, candied sweet potatoes, and sauerkraut made their way to our table. Eric and I dished out healthy samplings of the beans and sweet potatoes but let the sauerkraut go. He looked at my plate brimming with goodies and raised an eyebrow.
"You know you can't eat that much food. You're going to be too stuffed for pumpkin pie." He said.
"I'm never too stuffed for pumpkin pie." I replied.
"We'll see. You'll know I'm right. I'm always right." He grinned and winked at me. "We keep the beans and sweet potatoes. They're cool. The adults can keep the sauerkraut." He placed the bowls of beans and potatoes in front of him with the crescent rolls and handed the sauerkraut to my uncle.
Scalloped corn and regular potatoes made their way to our table only to be handed off to my uncle. The same thing happened to the gravy. Eric kept the cranberry sauce. I wondered when someone would notice there was a bottleneck at the kid's table. It was my father who noticed.
"Where're the rolls and sweet potatoes?" He turned to us. "Are you kids hoarding the good food again?"
"This is what you get for making us sit at the kid's table." I said as I poked Eric with my elbow. He handed the food to my uncle.
"We were holding it hostage until we got our way." Eric said.
My mother appeared with two chairs. I had no idea she had left the room. "Alright, you two. You get your wish. Come to the adult table."
As we made our way to our new holiday tradition of sitting with the grown-ups, a toddler cousin of mine appeared in the dining room wearing only his sweater, socks, and sneakers. Otherwise, he was buck-naked. "Mom, the toilet's clogged up." He said.
"Oh, God, no," My aunt Helen said as she shot up out of her chair. "You didn't flush your underwear down the toilet again, did you?"
My cousin gave her a wry smile.
As my father ran off to the bathroom to remedy this latest disaster, Eric and I sat down to enjoy our turkey dinner amid my crazy family. If it wasn't a clogged toilet or Eric holding the good food hostage, it would have been a boring Thanksgiving. That's never the case with my family. At least Roto-Rooter made a mint from us. It's the most plumberful time of year.