How to prepare Thanksgiving's Meal

What would happen if two friends decide to make Thanksgiving's meal together?

                Thanksgiving, the one day of the year where people sit down with their loving family and eat ‘til someone’s in a coma. Alas, Mitchell was spending this Thanksgiving alone again. A note from Mommy was left on the dining table. Her words felt cold as he read her message. ‘Sorry, Sweetie! Mommy won’t be coming home today. The company really needs me to oversee all the shifts today. Don’t worry, I made you a green bean casserole. Love, Mommy’

                Mitchell sniffed and opened the fridge. Sure enough, a tub of casserole was waiting for him. As he reached to grab it, his hand brushed against a frozen turkey, the very same frozen turkey Mommy promised that they’ll cook together. It was a hefty bird and it was a waste just to leave it in the fridge. Pulling open the freezer, Mitchell stuffed the turkey down. Peeling off the tub lid, Mitchell sniffed his casserole.

                Yuck, Mommy forgot that he didn’t like onions. But, I’m grateful that she made me food, Mitchell quickly thought, remembering it was Thanksgiving. Pushing the tub back into the fridge and closing the door, Mitchell grabbed his Mommy’s note and carefully folded it into a paper airplane before tucking it into his bedroom collection. Every note Mommy ever made him, it was all in his room, folded neatly as a paper airplane. Grabbing a stack of comics, Mitchell went to the living room and read on the couch.

                Ding Dong~

                Mitchell didn’t look up from his comic.

                Ding Dong~

                It couldn’t have been a friend. He never told anyone where he lived.

                Ding Dong~

                Maybe it was a sales clerk or the apartment manager or even a tax collector"Mitchell doubted the last one. Mommy was never home, but she managed to pay the bills on time, somehow.

                Di-Di-Di-D-D-Ding Dong~

                Mitchell looked through the little glass circle on the door. A pair of pinkish red eyes and messy white hair came into view. Ace. Grabbing his phone, Mitchell opened the door by an inch.

                “How do you know where I live?”

                Ace waved around his thick leather journal. “I’m the Observer, remember?” Tucking the old journal into his jacket, Ace sighed, “Instead of having 911 on speed dial, let a fellow brother enter your loving home.” Mitchell had half the nerve to slam the door shut, but Ace was giving him those puppy dog eyes.

                “Just get in.”

                Ace did more than ‘just get in’. He went straight to the freezer and pulled out the frozen turkey. Wrapping on an apron, from who-knows-where, he flashed Mitchell a smile.

                “If Mommy dearest isn’t preparing Thanksgiving’s meal, it doesn’t mean we can’t.”

                Mitchell’s eyebrow twitched. “Stalker.”

Step#1  Prepare the turkey

                “Stalker is such a harsh word. I prefer being called Observer, thank you very much.” Ace clicked his tongue as he pulled canned goods out of the cupboards. Setting the ovens on warm, Ace pulled a knife out of the drawers and began gutting the life out of the turkey.

                “A-Ace, do you even know how to prepare a turkey?” Mitchell asked.

                Ace pulled his bangs back and placed his thumb up. “I’d be lying if I said ‘yes’.” Ace smiled and continued on his work, carefully removing the turkey’s neck and other weird things from the body cavity. Mitchell stood and watched as psycho Doctor Ace drained the turkey’s juices into the sink like he was pouring evidence down a river. Ace, the Observer, noticed Mitchell’s staring eyes. “Don’t just stand there, Mitch. You wanted to help prepare this turkey, right?”

                Mitchell hesitated. What was Ace doing here? He had no right to prep the turkey, let alone gut it like a fish. Mommy promised him that they’ll make the turkey together. Why was Ace taking that promise away from him?

                “Drop the turkey and go.” Mitchell couldn’t bring himself to look at the hacked turkey anymore. “You’ve ruined my day enough already.”

                Ace just stood there and smiled, keeping his back turned to Mitchell as he tucked the turkey’s wings under themselves. “Mitch, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on.” Ace turned around. “Mommy broke her promise, and I’m just here to take her place. Don’t you want to prep the turkey?”

                Mitchell looked at Ace right in the eye. Remembering the words Mommy wrote down, Mitchell closed his eyes and nodded. Ace took Mitchell by the hand and placed a chef’s hat on his head. “Okay Chef, what should we do next?”

                In truth, the boys searched around the internet on how to bake a turkey for a good hour before they realized they were on a strict schedule. In the end, Ace pushed the deadweight into one of the four kitchen ovens and set the timer for an hour and a half.

Step#2  Bake the pie

                “Let’s try apple pie,” Mitchell suggested, flipping through Mommy’s cook book. The cook book itself was at least ten years old, but its touch was still brand new. There were so many things he wanted to make with Mommy; Mitchell even placed post-it stamps on the edge of the pages as a bookmark.

                As Mitchell read out the ingredients, Ace pulled them out of the fridge and cupboard. While Mitchell worked on the crust, Ace prepared the filling. A flour cloud puffed out when Mitchell opened the bag. Ace stifled a laugh as he peeled some apples. When Ace reached over for some flour, Mitchell slapped a handful on Ace’s back. Eventually, it was an all-out flour war and both sides weren’t letting up. Between the throws and laughs, the two boys prepared their parts of the pie. Finishing his filling early, Ace watched Mitchell slowly stir the crust batter together.

                “Let me guess, you don’t have an electric mixer.” Mitchell didn’t look amused, but he played along with Ace’s script.

                “Yeah, Mommy bought four ovens but not a mixer,” Mitchell huffed, cracking an extra egg into the batter to soften it out. In reality, it was just an extra egg that had no use in the recipie.

                “Here, I’ll show you.” Hugging Mitchell from behind, Ace guided his friend’s hands. It was difficult work since Mitchell’s hands weren’t used to adding pressure. No, scratch that. Mitchell’s hands weren’t used to cooking, let alone stirring powder and eggs around. Adding the two halves of the pie together, the dessert went straight to the second oven while Ace and Mitchell cleaned up the kitchen from their flour war.

                Making sure the other wasn’t looking, they snuck a handful of flour and waited until the very end before slapping the powder into each other’s hair.

                “You’re lucky you’ve got white hair. You can’t see the powder on you.”

                “You’re lucky your have black hair. At least you know when the powder’s off you.”

Step#3  Giving thanks

                After a nice long shower, Mitchell jumped onto his bed and rolled around. The flour was a pain to get out, but he got to soak in the hot water longer. It was like losing a quarter and getting two in return. At the moment, Ace was still in the bathroom, trying to wash the flour out of his hair.

                Over the running faucet, Mitchell could hear Ace’s voice. “What are you grateful for?”

                Food was a good answer. Having Ace come over and help prepare Thanksgiving’s meal was a better answer. At the same time, neither of them were the best answer. Mitchell wished Mommy was here to see the food he and Ace made today. He couldn’t remember her face and there weren’t any pictures of her lying around. Still, he could imagine tears welling up in her eyes and her arms wrapping around him and her voice telling him, “You make my day.”

                No. Mommy was barely ever at home and it caused Mitchell great loneliness over the years. Having Ace around today cheered him up. “I’m grateful that you came today. You made my day.”

                “I’m grateful that you didn’t close the door on me.” Opening the bathroom door, Ace asked, “Is it really okay for me to borrow your clothes?” Truthfully, Ace looked great in Mitchell’s clothes. At least it suited him better.

                “You can stay over if you want. Your clothes are caked with flour anyway.”

Step#4  Preparing the side dishes

                One pot had boiled red potatoes, another had peas, and the one next to that housed gravy. Mommy’s green bean casserole was slowly thawing out in the microwave. A cranberry sauce or juice was being made in the sink while Ace checked on the turkey and pie. The turkey wasn’t cooking fast enough and it was almost lunchtime. Turning the dial to a higher temperature, Ace checked on the side dishes.

                In the living room, Mitchell resumed reading comics. The interesting smells from the kitchen temporarily took him out of his reading state. Did Thanksgiving smell like this? There were too many raw factors to put in, so Mitchell went back to reading. Half an hour, all he smelled was smoke.

Step#5  Keep a fire extinguisher in the kitchen

                The next thing Mitchell knew, Ace was spraying fire extinguisher cream into one of one of the ovens.

Step#6  Spend time as a loving family

                “Mitch, the turkey’s…” Ace’s voice trailed off when he tore a piece of the turkey wing off. It would be too corny to say ‘sorry’. Actually, nothing could be said for the situation. The turkey was burned to its grave and nothing could bring back its tender life.

                “It’s fine,” Mitchell whispered, grabbing cleaning products from under the sink.

Step#7  (Well, you know what happens)

                “Hello, I’ll like two large pizzas please. One of them will be meat only and the other’s a combo.”

                “No onions, please~” Ace sang as he tried to bring the burnt oven back to life with trusty cleaning products and a tool box.

                “Oh, on the combo, there’ll be no onions.” Turning off his phone, Mitchell placed all the side dishes and apple pie into little containers and went outside. Instead of throwing the food away, he gave it to the little kids that were waiting outside of the apartment.

                “Thank you, Mister,” the children chirped, amazed that Mitchell gave them so much yummy smelling food. “Sir, where’s the turkey?”

                Mitchell placed a finger over his lips. “You don’t want to know.”

Author's Note

Read and enjoy!