chiefballoonliberator

[chiefballoonliberator]

Unwelcome Relatives Crash Thanksgiving Dinner

Caravan of extended family storms the foyer 

In true clown-car fashion, truckloads of unexpected relatives arrived in the entrance hall of Americans’ homes nationwide this Thanksgiving. Fed up with surprise guests, families resolved to do all they could to get rid of unannounced interlopers.

Aunt, cooked-out and already stressed, admitted that she tried to pawn off her visitors on the neighbors. “They seemed willing enough to take them off my hands for a bit,” she said. “Besides, I’m not going to leave them there all through the holidays. Maybe I’ll have space for them by Christmas.”

Other relatives were more candid in their attempts to turn away their guests. “I told ‘em that I’d buy their return flight tickets if they’d just leave,” said Uncle. He admitted that he wasn’t quite sure of the success of this strategy. “I had plenty of takers, but lots of them promised that they’d come back next year.”

Grandparents, stubborn as ever, refused to even open the door for visitors they labeled as intruders. Grandpa boasted about how he managed to disconnect the bell and take the knocker off his door. Grandma said that when Christmas time rolls around, they plan on refurbishing their entire security system so that unwelcome guests won’t even be able to approach the front yard.

Younger cousins seemed to adopt the same attitude. “If we let them all in, there won’t be any turkey or pie left for me,” said nephew. Here, niece chimed in: “I feel a little bit bad about making them leave, but they didn’t even bring a dish to share.”

Siblings tentatively agreed. Sister said, “I really hate having to share my room, but they are family, I guess.” Brother expressed different concerns. “Sure, I love them, but I don’t want them to come in and overstay their welcome. It takes forever to get visitors to leave.”

Parents shrugged and shook their heads when asked about their thoughts on the embarrassing situation. “I mean, I know we’re all supposed to be in the holiday spirit here,” Father said. “But I just don’t have room at my table.”

[chiefballoonliberator]

“The man appears in a cafe with a new umbrella”

A miniature puddle grew beneath Harold’s feet as he absently spun his new black umbrella. It was the latest model--sleek nylon with a gently curved wooden handle and a thin metal pole accompanied by a gliding runner. The ferrule was a semi-pliable rubber with concrete-resistance, and the man at the department store told him that this new feature helped the umbrella double as a cane. The man at the department store also said that this umbrella was just what Harold needed to make his commute one-hundred-and-ten percent better, so Harold was not positive that he should trust the man.

The lady a table over from Harold grunted pointedly and wrinkled her nose at the growing pool. He stilled his umbrella and pulled it into his lap, but he immediately regretted it as his new pants soaked up the remaining droplets.  

Oh, dear, Harold thought as he frantically blotted at the wet spots with his cloth napkin. He stood to go to the restroom to clean himself up, but his slick-soled shoes held no grip in the puddle he created, and he stumbled into the table. His hand came down on the edge of his plate, and his half-eaten french toast with two sausage links and a drizzle of syrup catapulted toward his front.

Right then, Macy walked up with a coffee pot in hand. Harold, a dripping mess, turned bright red at the sight of the beautiful waitress.

She looked him up and down. “Would you like the paper towel roll,” she said, more a statement than a question.

“That would be just perfect; I’ll head to the men’s room,” Harold said, fumbling with the buttons on his coat. He reached up to pat his hair, forgetting the syrup on his hands, forcing himself to make eye-contact with Macy. “Oh, but I guess you can’t come in the men’s room, so I’ll just use the paper towels in there,” he rambled. “Because, of course, there are towels in there, too. I wouldn’t want you to think that I was asking you to bring me more paper towels in the dirty men’s room. Not that it’s dirty! The cleaning staff here is typically excellent, I never have complaints.” He tried to smile, but his wide eyes and trembling hands gave him an unattractive deer-in-the-headlights look.

Macy smiled back kindly, setting the coffee pot on an adjacent table. “I think my brother left his suit coat in my car. You get cleaned up and I’ll see if I can find it for you. It should cover up the syrup.”

Harold’s eyes fell, and he moved away from the table, toward the restrooms. Macy took a hesitant step in the opposite direction, but then she stopped and touched his shoulder. “By the way, Harold, is that a new umbrella?”