Thanksgiving at Grumpy’s cave is all about family. We’re so glad to sit down and break bones with family members we haven’t seen since the last volcanic eruption that we don’t mind if they arrive for dinner wearing nothing but bear skins. Actually, we prefer it.
Is That Uncle Org?
Part of the fun in our Thanksgiving is the suspense and anticipation. With so many people being eaten by giant prehistoric beavers in the last year or losing their homes to the Caving Bubble, we just never know who will show up.
But then the word got out that we were serving grilled cave bear with all the trimmings — antelope intestines, sloth brains, dung beetle poppers, and green gravy we skim off the pond. Everybody came running.
First to show up: Judy’s niece, Vengeance, a fashion designer in Gondwanaland, together with her giant wooly mammoth, Nelson. Nelson has to stay outside. So glad he doesn’t bark.
Here’s Vengeance’s son, Dingo. He’ll be 10 years old next month and looks more and more grown up every day. He likes to hunt and kill things. What a delightful scamp!
My sister-in-law, Deliria, is always the life of the party. Been here 10 minutes and already working on her third beer. She’s a make-up artist from Ft. Wayne who was recently paroled.
We Have Eat Ourselves Sick
Thanksgiving at Grumpy’s is not a time for counting calories. We stuff our faces with every last morsel, for tomorrow we may be eaten by a prehistoric giant beaver (I wasn’t kidding about those things). Feeling a big sluggish, the men gather outside the cave to discuss matters of great importance, such as: “Where can we buy more beer on Thanksgiving?”
So, it’s off on a beer run to the nearest convenience store accompanied by Brian’s pet sauropods, who will protect us from those savage Salvation Army bell-ringers.
Meanwhile, the women talk and laugh and keep busy with womanly things, like making a beautiful baby blanket from the hide of that antelope we just ate. This blanket will become a cherished family heirloom, unless it too is eaten by beavers.
Thank You, Faithful Readers
Well, another Thanksgiving feast has come and gone, and a few folks would like to express their gratitude. First, Grumpy and his smokin-hot wife, Judy, would like to thank you, Grumpy’s legion of loyal fans, for wasting just as much of your valuable time reading the Grumpy Gardener this year as you did the year before.
Lastly, Grandpa Ed, in yet another one of his mushroom-induced trances, wants to express his appreciation to “Fox & Friends.” He and Gretchen Carlson have just been chosen to compete on this year’s “Dancing with the Neanderthals.” Unless they’re eaten by beavers.