Thanksgiving

"That's not how you carve a turkey, moron."

"Do you want to do this, Sean? Because you are welcome to do this."

"Well, if you'd gotten the knife I told you to buy, this would not be a problem."

"Sean, I am not buying an electronic knife. For Christ's sake, what, exactly, is electronic about it? Does it light up? How does that make carving a turkey easier? It's like that stupid electronic razor you bought! Having batteries does not make the blade sharper or cut the whiskers closer!"

"It does so. And anyway, I said electric, not electronic, you freaking idiot. It's more like a saw."

"Oh, great, a saw for our turkey. You know, we could have gone to my parents; house, we were invited. Mom would have cooked the turkey, so I would not have been up at five AM, and Dad would have cut it, so we would not be having this argument."

"We also would not be having this argument if you knew how to carve a turkey, dumbass."

"You call me a dumbass, and yet I don't see you offering any advice."

"My advice was to buy an electric knife."

"You are so not helpful."

"And you are slaughtering that turkey."

"I'd care more, but it's already dead. In fact, I got up at five this morning to cook it."

"And no one will be eating it if you don't carve it better than that."

"Shut up. Why couldn't we go to my parents' house?"

"Because you have three sisters who screech—"

"They do not screech, they... emphatically declare things."

"—two brothers in law who do nothing but drink, fart, watch football, and punch each other—"

"That's manly."

"It's stupid. There's also the nieces and nephews who are always burping and crying, and I don't do diapers, thank you very much, and I hate being spit up on—"

"It's not their fault that they're babies!"

"—and your father, who hates me for reasons I can't fathom—"

"It's because you blew up his lawn mower, Sean."

"That was an accident! And your mom, who just cries and cries all night long."

"She's emotional."

"She's psycho."

"Isn't that what Thanksgiving is all about?"

"Your mom being psycho? Evidently, yes. And for all those many, many reasons, I am never going to Thanksgiving at your house again."

"You know what you should be thankful for? That I put up with your whining and let you have your way, and got at five fucking AM to cook you a turkey."

"You think I'm not thankful for that? I didn't have to get up at five fucking AM and cook a turkey."

"You never even thanked me, you know. Just told me what I was doing wrong. 'You aren't basting it enough,' 'Why is it breast side up, not down?' 'You can't carve it'—"

"Well, you are carving it wrong, but that was a lovely falsetto. My voice is deeper than yours, you lunatic."

"Whatever. My point is—my point is, shut up. That's my point."

"Very eloquent."

"Blow me."

"Gladly."

"What?"

"I will gladly blow you. As you point out, you got up at five AM to cook me a Thanksgiving dinner, and skipped out on your family. How long did your mother cry for?"

"According to my sister, a day and a half. You owe me so much more than a blowjob."

"I tell you what. We'll take a break from this conversation, and from you mangling that turkey—"

"Hey!"

"—and I will, as you so eloquently requested, blow you. After dinner, we'll see what else you're in the mood for."

"That's uncharacteristically giving and nice of you."

"It's the holidays, Tony. Now leave that poor bird alone. Like overcooking it wasn't bad enough, now you're trying to slaughter it all over again."

"Shut up and get in the bedroom. And I am not mangling the turkey."

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