Thanksgiving is a holiday all about reuniting with your loved ones, eating good pie, and appreciating what you have. For some of us. Unfortunately, there are some out there sacrificing more than we could ever comprehend so we can enjoy this joyful time of year. And nobody is thanking them. Over the last month I sat down with a few of these poor souls in an attempt to help them find recognition, and maybe even a little peace. This is one of those stories.
Warning: The transcript below includes some shocking imagery that is not for the faint of heart. If you are a child reading this, turn it off and go play with some legos or something. This tale of holiday horror is not for you.
Second More Realistic Warning: The above warning was a farce to try and add atmosphere to this weird fake interview thing I’m doing. The transcript you are about to read is obviously a joke. But also a little dark. I don’t know. Just read the damn thing and decide for yourself.
ME: Good afternoon. I’m currently speaking with Hank. And Hank, for the record, you are?
HANK: (Clears throat)A pumpkin pie.
ME: I’d like to apologize once more for trying to eat you before the interview, Hank. I was not informed that you were my guest today.
HANK: It’s fine, really.
ME: Well, I suppose we should get started. Hank, where were you born?
HANK: I was born back in July on a farm in the middle of nowhere. The Earth was kind and nurturing to me, and acted as a sort of parental figure. The first four months of my life were nice and simple. Things were quiet. But I liked it. The farmers tended to us, helped us grow. The bugs were a little annoying, but overall, it was nice. A good childhood.
ME: And your parents?
HANK: My mother and father were the same person. The seeds are produced from one part of a pumpkin fertilizing another. Did you not learn this in Biology?
ME: (Uncomfortable silence)
HANK: Anyway, once I became ripe enough for human standards, I was ripped from the earth and sent to some cold, evil factory and made into… this!!!
[Despite lacking eyes, Hank was able to give me a blistering glare at this point in the interview, as if I was the problem.]
ME: Did you ever return home?
HANK: (Tears welling up, as if out of nowhere)No! I don’t remember where I was born! I lost my home and half of my body, and…
[Hank begins to sob. I hand it a tissue.]
HANK: Thank you. (Blows nose loudly)I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.
ME: That’s quite alright. We’ll continue when you’re ready.
[Hank wipes it’s nonexistent eyes, straightens up in it’s chair with the help of it’s nonexistent spine, and continues talking.]
HANK: I thought that being made into a pie had been the worst of it. When I was taken out of the oven I could see the shell of what I once was being thrown away with those of my brothers and sisters. We were still the luckiest of the bunch. My brother Walter, he tried to make an escape during processing, and he… smashed open on the floor. (Nose blow)I thought I was lucky. But the worst was yet to come.
[Hank looks away in fear.]
ME: What? What happened, Hank?
HANK: I was… frozen.
HANK: After about five days in that tundra-esque hellhole those maniacs were keeping me in, I finally got sent to market. They shipped me out to some gaudy red department store. I can’t remember much of this time period, because they’d packaged me in some green box with the word calendar on it. I was at that store a day before I was bought. And I wasn’t naive. I knew what was happening. But I was just grateful for it to all be over.
ME: But it wasn’t over.
HANK: No. No, it wasn’t. I was the centerpiece of the table that cold November night. I watched helplessly as the turkey was ravaged down to it’s bones. The cornbread and rolls were quickly swept from the table, and the mixed veggies remained gratefully untouched. After witnessing this massacre, I thought I was ready. I assumed a quick ending was awaiting me, and I welcomed it with open arms. Figuratively. But that’s not what happened. I was cut into twelve pieces, which was almost as excruciating as the heat of the oven. But it turned out that the idiots at the table were all just so stuffed! And they couldn’t possibly have another bite!
ME: You’re kidding.
HANK: So I was parceled up in cellophane and stuffed in the fridge. Which, to be honest, I didn’t mind as much. The fridge was a cool breeze compared to the freezer. Over the next few days I said goodbye to three slices of me. The quick ending becoming much more prolonged than I had previously expected. And then… I got shoved into the back of the freezer again. And this time it wasn’t some quick trip. No, I got to endure ninety days of frostbite while my once glistening physique became peppered with bitter fragments of ice. I had become forgotten.
ME: How did you cope?
HANK: In order to fight off the insanity I struck up a friendship with the Dino Nuggets. They were all nice guys, but every few weeks the psychotic little four year old would gobble some up until I was soon alone again. I thought things were finally over yesterday when the old hag that bought me decided to take me out of the freezer. The rush of the warm air on my skin was invigorating and revitalizing. I was suddenly given a new lease on life! I wanted to live!
HANK: And I was promptly thrown in the garbage amidst the dirty diapers and rancid mayonnaise. So now I sit before you. Cut apart, half eaten and squished. The only solace I have left is that in a few days the mold will take me and I can rest. And I’m begging you. If you buy a pumpkin pie, don’t do what they did to me. Eat it as quickly as possible. I won’t let my story… be for nothing.
[Hank sobs uncontrollably.]
ME: A truly moving story. I apologize, Hank, for everything you had to go through.
Tune in tomorrow for the next installment in this series of interviews when I speak with a bit of a celebrity about how fame can be fleeting.