Writer Wednesday

Its Writer Wednesday!

Here was today’s prompt:


My horoscope read: Company from out of town. Could mean trouble. 

It had no idea how right it was.

I hadn’t planned on hosting Thanksgiving this year, but after Mom broke her leg during her Senior’s Zumba and Aunt Milly ran off with her son’s baseball coach, I was called upon to cook. I had never so much as made a turkey sandwich, let alone an entire bird to feed my loud family from the Finger Lakes.  

I woke up at five to put the turkey in the oven. Sides were already simmering on the stove and I was about to take my second Xanax when I heard my phone ding. A new email. 

This one was from Uncle Charlie.

“Sarah,” he wrote.  “Be sure you have plenty of Milk of Magnesia for your aunt and me today. My irritable bowel has been flaring up something fierce and your aunt has been experiencing severe reflux due to the fact that a new BBQ joint opened up in town last month. See you soon.” 

I groaned. Why, WHY did I agree to this? 

Ah yes, I remember. because my mother is the Jedi Knight of guilt and can make anyone do anything she wants with just a wave of a hand and saying, “Oh, its okay. We’ll figure something out.” 

Note to self: be more assertive. 

I basted the turkey, stirred the stuffing, and peeled more potatoes.

I caught a few glimpses of the cast of General Hospital waving at everyone at the Macy’s Parade and checked my phone. I had a text from my sister. 

Her: Need help w/ n-e-thang?

 Me: No. But I think you could use some help in the grammar department. 

Her: Wut?

Me: Nothing. Never mind. I’m good. When are you coming over? 

Her: 2. But split’n @ 3. Got d8. 

Me: And Happy Thanksgiving to you. 

Note to self: Give my sister a dictionary for Christmas.


A few more hours pass. The table is set, the turkey is primed for slicing, and the last dash of cinammon is sprinkled on the yams. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. 

Note to self: Go on a solo vacation next year during Thanksgiving. 



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