She was our youngest and tender-hearted (tender, in fact, throughout) and therefore hard to eat. All through the lengthening day, the aroma tempted us to open the oven and peek, to pluck at the crisping skin, to let just a bit of her escape. The little ones, drawn to the glow by the unfamiliar scent, came too close to the too-hot glass of the oven window and would have toasted their noses, but the older ones pulled them away, hugged them close and nibbled their necks. We busied ourselves with side dishes and talked about how hard it was to make ends meet. The whole extended family gathered here to share in our small bounty; new arrivals ate the air, thoughtfully wet their lips, then went to pay their respects to Mother, who held her arms out from her overstuffed chair, too far along even to rise to greet them. They rubbed her tummy admiringly and some, like Uncle Humorous, set their ears against her belly and pretended to hear a voice from within, “What’s for dinner?” you say? “Wouldn’t you like to know!” The slowest clocks are oven clocks; we laughed to pass the time. At last the bell! And now we scramble to our places; too many for the dining room, we grab at plates and find a perch, make tables of our knees and wait while Daddy beaming brings the platter steaming from the kitchen. He seems near tears with the excitement of it all. One by one, he looks his children in the eye. We watch in awe as he begins to carve and wonder, the older ones anyway, if we could do it. When our turn comes, will we make such neat slices and share without begrudging all we have with those who gather?
Copyright © November 03, 2007 David Hodges
15 comments
Comments feed for this article
November 3, 2007 at 5:57 pm
paisley
AAAAAHHHHHHHH this is crazy… please tell me they are not eating the baby!!!!
All right, then, Paisley. They’re not eating the baby.
–David
November 3, 2007 at 7:17 pm
briseis
David, is it terrible that this made me laugh, a little? Not the actual subject, but your treatment of it. (It wasn’t a happy laugh, in my defense.)
No, really, Briseis, what choice did you have? If it’s not funny, it’s just too ghastly.
–David
November 4, 2007 at 2:05 pm
mothergoose
David — I love those taut, full words — mother’s belly, the armchair, the dining room too full — wonderful and icky. Also the line about the oven clock being the slowest. Oh, and hugging the children and nibbling their necks. You do love to push against margins of comfort, don’t you? I laughed big belly-laughs, myself. No shame, I guess.
Thank you so much, mothergoose! I was sure I had jumped way over the margins of comfort! What a good reader you are to pick up on the details! Come back any time.
–David
November 4, 2007 at 4:19 pm
titus2woman
This is my first visit to your blog I think… and I’m still trying to process it… You are an exceptional writer! (((((HUGS))))) sandi
Wow, did you ever pick a day for your first visit! Welcome to Very Short Novels, sandi, and thanks for the hugs.
–David
November 4, 2007 at 4:51 pm
litlove
Well this is an unexpected variant on the old adage ‘the family that eats together, stays together’! The Brothers Grimm salute you from beyond the grave for this black Thanksgiving fairy tale in which traditional sentiment is stuffed and roasted in the oven along with the baby. Just delicious.
And to think I was hesitant to post something so macabre. Thank you Litlove!
–David
November 5, 2007 at 12:50 am
archiearchive FCD
I think the most disturbing memory is Mother. Growing next Thanksgiving’s roast.
Memory! Now that would be disturbing, Archie! Thanks.
–David
November 5, 2007 at 11:24 am
joyinme
thanks for your comment on my blog david, i really appreciate it, it really motivates me…
you are really working in extreme detail, love reading and feeling it
My pleasure, joyinme. I’m happy to motivate and glad you keep coming back to Very Short Novels.
–David
November 5, 2007 at 1:00 pm
Wizzer
Who I wonder was the youngest? And are the little ones next? And is mother THE mother? So tempting to create my own story from your words David. Delicious as usual
Have at it, Wizzer! I’ve left you plenty of room to play.
–David
November 6, 2007 at 3:00 am
Manictastic
It’s never good to be the youngest.
Now that’s funny. Thanks, Manictastic.
–David
November 8, 2007 at 8:25 am
amethystlune
happy thanksgiving! 🙂
Yeah. Maybe go with the tofu. Thanks amethystlune!
–David
November 10, 2007 at 4:02 pm
grantman
life on the farm… my granfather would always pick the youngest and tenderest bird for dinner…. great memory revisted..
grantman
“Bird” being the important word in your recollection, grantman. Thanks. Hope you enjoyed your holiday!
–David
November 25, 2007 at 1:31 pm
David Schleicher
This was wicked good. I didn’t even “get it” at first until I read some of the other reactions. I actually thought you were simply playing with metaphors and that this was all innocent fun. But that wasn’t a turkey in the oven, was it? It’s almost as if I didn’t want to believe it at first and couldn’t fully digest what was happening. Very clever.
Fully digest. Thanks, David!
–David
November 26, 2009 at 7:53 am
raincoaster
An instant classic, and so tasteless it almost belongs on my blog! Or in a book of Jonathan Swift’s short pieces. (how long WAS “A Modest Proposal” anyway?)
Thanks, raincoaster! Swift was a genius but a blabbermouth. Even the complete title of A Modest Proposal checks in at 28 words, and the essay in its entirety is more than a dozen times as long as it needs to be (299 words, of course). For more tasteful tastelessness, I of course urge all readers of these pages to hasten by backlink to the raincoaster blog! Happy Holidays!
–David
November 26, 2009 at 9:32 am
A Modest Proposal: that you read this story « raincoaster
[…] (take a screenshot, this may never happen again) and go over to David B. Dale’s blog and read his heartwarming Thanksgiving story, destined to be an instant […]
November 26, 2009 at 2:20 pm
WindnWaves
It is better for me to believe this is a family of cannibalistic birds (pluck, nibble and perch) rather than the alternate. I’ll be coming back for more. And, thank you!
Well done, WindnWaves! Pluck, nibble and perch indeed! They might even be turkeys cooking a turkey for that matter. Well, whatever gets you through the meal. I’m delighted you’ll be back. Happy Holiday and Welcome to Very Short Novels.
–David