You see, this pineapple reminds me of my family.
At first it might seem like a stretch, but hear me out. Thanksgiving
is coming up, and this is a prime example of the Dali-esque
nature of my family. See, we have many traditions that we
hold dear to our hearts, among them the turkey call and the
The turkey hat is fairly simple: take a plush turkey, cut
a hole in the belly, and stick your head in it. If you can’t see,
you stuck your head in too far. If it’s messy and smelly,
you didn’t read the “plush” part of plush turkey.
This results in a goofy-looking hat with the turkey’s legs
dangling over your ears, looking much like a headset, as my uncles
are fond of pointing out.
Were they content to look like weirdos with turkeys on their
heads? Of course not! It was Thanksgiving after all. We go to
extremes, baby! Enter the turkey call, a piece of slate that
one strikes with a wooden peg, making a noise associated only
with turkeys in heat.
And a good time was had by all, for all of about five minutes.
If you want to know how much fun being in a room with three grown
men with turkey hats on their heads and turkey calls in their
hands, here’s what you do. Duct tape yourself to the hood
of a car with squeaky brakes. Let your head dangle over the wheel
well. Have a friend drive at three miles an hour with the brake
pedal slightly depressed. Fun times, but watch out for mailboxes.
Speaking of turkeys in heat though, I don’t think we’ve
ever had a burned or overcooked turkey. For that matter, I can’t
recall there ever being anything wrong with any of the dinners.
Except that sometimes I can’t walk straight afterwards,
and somehow my belt shrinks while I’m sitting at the table.
So this year I won’t be wearing a belt.
One interesting thing that’ll happen this year is a friend
of mine from India will be joining us. He’d be all alone
on Thanksgiving, so I’ve taken it upon myself to invite
him to my family’s celebrations. Awww, how nice of me,
right? Naw, not really. I want to see if he can make it through
even one day with my family. I fully expect to be driving a blubbering
wreck of a man back to his house that evening. We have a reputation
of scaring off friends, love interests, large dogs, and telemarketers,
with a specialization in sane people.
Which brings me back to my pineapple, somehow. I’m going
to go eat it.