Thanksgiving Gratitude

"...and I'm thankful for Minecraft and for not having school today or tomorrow, and for dessert, and for YouTube, and for—" "That's wonderful, Harry, thank you." Evelyn smiled broadly around the table at her husband and children. "And now, let's—"

"I'm thankful, too," came a burbling voice. Everyone looked at Jenna, the jokester, but she shrugged and shook her head. Their eyes came to rest on the heaping bowl of mashed potatoes, quivering slightly.

"I'm thankful," continued the potatoes, "for broadening awareness of plants' ability to communicate health and well-being through ultrasound."

"Yeah," burbled the baked, buttered yams. "I'm thankful for that, too."

"For my part," rustled the green beans, "I'm more thankful for the sun, and for the last year of sunshine. Really helped my quality of life. Well, y'know, for most of it." The stuffing murmured agreement.

"Not me," came an echoing voice. The family's eyes turned to the great roast turkey, as yet uncarved in the center of the table. "My life wasn't all that great. The thing I'm most thankful for is the sharp blade and the accurate swing." The other dishes murmured condolences or platitudes, suddenly feeling awkward.

Naturally, the family fled the table, screaming.

Screeching Crash

Paul heard a screeching crash. It made him jump and spill his coffee, and he ran to the window to see if he could see it. He could. There, blocks away, on the Third Street bridge, a car had broken through the railing and hung, half on the bridge and half off, teetering on the edge.

Rummaging through a cupboard in such haste that he threw unwanted outdoor clothes on the ground, Paul came up with his binoculars. Looking through them, he watched the crowd gathering, saw a woman punch the now-deflating airbags out of her way, watched her scrabble to get the door open and fail. He wondered if he should call 911, but saw at least a dozen people with their phones out.

Why was he still watching? He felt a rush of shame at his voyeurism, told himself he only wanted to know it came out okay, then wondered if he was lying to himself. He wanted to throw the binoculars away. he wanted to crawl into his bed and hide. But he watched on, and wondered why he couldn't stop.

Staring, watching, he wondered if he could possibly feel good about himself when this was over.

To Be Liked

The man wore a threadbare jacket, patched pants, dirty shoes, a worn satchel, and at least a week of beard growth. He stood in the shadows of Fifth Avenue's tall buildings, crowds of tourists and locals bustling around him. "Like me!" he shouted at a father with small children. He looked away and led his children around the man.

"Like me!" the man shouted at a group of teenage girls. They rolled their eyes and brushed past him.

"Share me?" he said, wrapping himself in the arms of a lean, elderly woman. Flustered, she pushed him away and walked off.

He fidgeted a bit, then pulled a tablet out of his satchel. He tapped until he brought up a picture of a kitten sitting on a dog's head and thrust it in the faces of passers-by. "Like? Like? Like?"

Many ignored him, but a young man walking a dalmatian said, "Ooooh, cute! I like you!" Holding his tablet, the man shivered with pleasure.

"Share me?" he said.

"Ehhhhh," the man and dog walked around him.

Scratching himself anxiously, the man tapped his tablet to produce a video of kittens wrestling with dogs. "Like me?" he asked the world. "Share me?"

Trolls at the Zoo

Morkus was a little troll. He lived with his parents and his older brother Zorkus. He loved them all, and they loved him. Even if Zorkus showed it in funny ways sometimes. The Troll family went to the zoo. It was a sunny day and just warm enough to go wandering through the enclosures.

They went to see the giraffes. "Wow," said Morkus, "they're so tall."

"I bet they fall over a lot," Zorkus said.

They went to see the hippopotami. "Look at its mouth!" Morkus said. "It's so big!"

"Ugh," said Zorkus, "he needs to brush his teeth!"

They went to see the tigers. "Rawr," said Morkus, staring at the animals.

"I'm going to get everyone some drinks," said their father. Their mother turned to look at the armadillos.

"I'm going to hide," Zorkus whispered to Morkus.

"No," said Morkus, "stay with me." But Zorkus hid behind a bush. Their father came back and handed everyone their drinks.

"Where's Zorkus?" he asked. Zorkus snickered from behind a bush.

"He was here a minute ago," said their mother.

"Hmmm," said their father. "Well, I guess Zorkus is gone forever. I'm sad, but that means I get to drink his milkshake!" He started drinking the strawberry milkshake.

"Hey!" Zorkus appeared from behind the bush.

"Oh," said their mother, "we thought you were gone forever."

"He was hiding!" Morkus said.

"Oh, that's right," said their father. "Here," he said, "have your milkshake."

After seeing the bears, antelope, and iguanas, they went home.

Twinkle Revised

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Light refracting from afar,

Passing through the atmosphere,

Many years from there to here.

Fusing hydrogen for light,

Throwing photons into night.

Flying at a constant pace,

Just a few will reach your face.

Overwhelmed by our dear Sun—

Of all the stars, the closest one—

When our planet turns away,

Night reveals what hides in day.

There is much that we could know,

If we could to the stars go.

Stars and planets, and much more,

Waiting for us to explore.

Made of elements from stars,

We're their children, come so far.

Let's return to outer space,

Birthplace of the human race.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

Bigger than our Earth by far.

Red Riding Hoot 2

Little Red Riding Hood put on her cape, took up a basket of goodies, and set out for Grandmother's house in the forest. Before she had gone far, a voice called out from the branches above. "Whoooo are you taking those goodies to, little girl?" She looked up to see an owl. "And more importantly," said the owl, "will you share?"

"No," said Little Red. "This basket is for Grandmother, who is ill and needs them to get well. Otherwise I would share them."

"You are a good child," the owl said, "so I will tell you a secret path to Grandmother's house." But the owl's directions led Red astray, and the owl flew ahead to Grandmother's.

"Grandmother!" The owl scratched at her window. "Your granddaughter is lost in the woods and has none to help her find her way!" Scared for Little Red, Grandmother took up her own cape and went out into the darkening woods in search. Hooting in laughter, the owl made herself at home in Grandmother's house.

She ate all of the oat cakes and nested in Grandmother's bed. "I should have done this years ago," she said to herself. Outside, the woods were pitch black.

Another Red Riding Hood

Once upon a time lived a girl called Red Riding Hood for her choice of clothing. One day, her grandmother fell sick with fever in her home in the woods. Compassionate and dutiful, Red packed a basket of food and medicine and went to aid her grandmother. A vicious and cunning wolf watched her in the woods. Feigning concern, he learned the circumstances of her travel and her destination. Knowing the woods well, he took a shorter path. He was so hungry that when he arrived, he swallowed Grandmother whole. Still hungry, he donned her nightclothes and climbed into her bed.

When Little Red Riding Hood arrived, the wolf greeted her in his best Grandmother imitation. "Come closer."

"My, what big ears you have," said Red Riding Hood.

"Yes, I, um." The wolf felt a moment of dizziness. "The better to hear you with, my dear. Come closer."

"My, what big eyes you have," said Red Riding Hood.

"The better to, um. Oh, God, she's vomiting inside me." The wolf retched and vomited up Grandmother, who staggered to her bed. Weak with food poisoning, the wolf fled.

"That'll teach you to eat sick old ladies!" Riding Hood called after him.