November Monthly Competition [Short Story]

November

Hello and welcome to the November competition held by the official Mineverse Competition Team. The team is made up of the following people:​

@Alex
@BlackZone
@Deivid0ze
@Dyna_Mighty
@elrak
@kinsey_kid
@NoMoreSanity
@Random
@StrKillr​

The Competition

Due to November being the month of Thanksgiving, we have decided to host a writing competition based around Thanksgiving. You will need to write a short story with a theme of Thanksgiving.

Rules​

• A maximum length of 800 words​
• One entry per person​
• No inappropriate stories​
• Must follow the theme of Thanksgiving​
• Do not plagiarize (copy someone else's work or words)​
• You may not collaborate with others. Individual entries only.​

Template

IGN:
Story:


The Prize

The prize will be either:​

• $10 buycraft​
• Premium on TeamSpeak​

The winner of the competition will be determined by the competition team. When deciding, we will not take into account the amount of positive ratings your submission has, what other people think about it or how 'popular' you may be on the server.


Thread Notes

All comments must be submissions, any other comments will be deleted. If you would like to tell someone what you think of their story, please either PM them or post on their profile (but don't be rude!). If you have any questions about the competition, please comment down below but once answered, they will also be removed.

Thank you and good luck to all who choose to enter, we look forward to seeing your work!

-The Competition Team


EDIT: The max length has now changed to 800.

​

End date: November 30th, 6pm Central Time Zone
​

​

 

I can't be in the comp but this is my entry.

IGN: Strkillr

Story: One day there was a turkey then there was no turkey.

 

IGN: WhyteDuck
Story:
The Thankful Kids.

One day, there were 3 very spoilt siblings. They're so spoilt, to the point where everything was done for them, the food, clothes, and even their homeworks! Their parents are very wealthy, they own a multi-millionaire company. Although their parents own this, their parents are very humble and thankful for what they have. They've tried everything to teach their kids not to be spoilt, and be more thankful for what they have.

Like every weekday, the 3 siblings would go to school. Now, their school is top of the range, state of the art. So, everyone there is practically rich, no one was poor. So, they'd live out every single day like how'd they normally would.

2 weeks later, there was a new student who was introduced to the school. This student came from a location which nobody has ever heard about, and this student was actually, poor, but had many traits which made him a very nice boy. His parents actually managed to save enough money to put him into the school. The 3 siblings thought, it was time for them to make new friends as it was getting dull. So, the 3 siblings greeted the new boy, and the new boy would greet them back.

They would get closer every day, as the 3 siblings thought, they've never met a person like this before. One day, the 3 siblings invited their new friend over to their house. Their friend was mesmerized with all of the things they had in their house. One of the siblings asked, "What's the matter, have you never seen this before?". The boy replied, "No, I haven't.". The 3 siblings assumed that he'd never seen this because he wasn't the type to go out often. So, the 3 siblings carried on, showing their new friend around the house.

After a long day, the boy finally went back and thank them for their company for the day. They all had a goods night rest, later that night.

The next day, the boy asked the 3 siblings, "Hey, since yesterday you showed me around your house, would you mind if I showed you around mine?". The 3 siblings replied excitingly, "Sure!". On that day, the siblings went to the boy's house. They were shocked, seeing it was a very small and old house. The 3 siblings thought, this had to be a joke or something, so they asked the boy, "is this actually your house?..". The boy replied, "Yes, is there anything wrong?". The boys were shocked seeing how, even a poor boy can be one of the most, positive person they've ever met. They actually didn't mine, seeing how he was.

After a few days, the siblings asked a question to their parents, which was, "Mom, dad, can I please sleep over at my friends house, just for the weekends?". The parents were very puzzled, and asked, "Isn't he poor?" and the siblings replied, "Yes, we'd love to learn how they live compared to us.". The parents saw this as an opportunity to teach their children the right way of living life.

So, the 3 siblings left to sleep over their friends house. The friend had shown them their rooms, and the siblings were thinking, "I see why mom and dad wanted us to be more humble and thankful" after seeing the rooms.. They felt like, they had everything a kid could asked for, whereas his friend, doesn't.

After a few days, they knew how it is, not having everything they want. So, they turned over a new leaf. They told each other, "It's time to change.", and from that they onward, they've learnt to be very humble and thankful for what they had in their lives, and not to take things for granted. The parents were very happy, and thanked the friend very much, and in return, they bought him a gift as a token of appreciation for changing them for the better.

The End.



​

 

Patrickthereaper

Once upon a time, I entered a thanksgiving competition. I then lost and moved on with my life.
The end.

 

IGN: Asthori

(NOTE: I have included a rememberance poem because where I live it is near rememberance sunday. And I also know you dont get presents for Thanksgiving, I just don't know what to call it)
Story:

A Different Kind of Present​

She misses him; he’s always away. They’re always moving from house to house; it’s just a part of his job. She loves him, he loves her, but they never really get the chance to be daughter and father anymore. The girl, the young girl, used to be happy, used to be bright, but since he left to fight 3 years ago she has been a forlorn, hollow shell of her past self.


‘In the fields of poppies red,
Lay tales of woe, casualty and death,
The soldier that rests his tired head,
The fighting will forever yield,
In the meadow of Flanders’ Field.


Families who’re forever cracked,
Heartbreak suffocates night and day,
Evacuees have long since packed,
The mouths of the soldiers sealed,
Shall forever rest in Flanders’ Field.’


“Oh dear, that is a good poem. Well done.” The girl’s mother praised, bringing the girl onto her lap,”I’m so proud of you.”
The girl nodded, mute as she had been for 3 years. Her heart ached with every step,
her head yearned with every thought for her dad, her father, her only wish.
“Though Remembrance was awhile ago, I’m sure you can keep your poem until next year sweetie. It’s June!”
The girl’s head nodded again, as she broke from her mum’s lap and swiftly walked to her room. There she slipped into the dim dreamworld of her imagination,which is where she usually hid. Why did her father never come back? If he truly loved them so much, why wouldn’t he even send letters? Questions twanged at her heart like plucking a violin string. In her dreams, she usually soared in the skies with her father, dodging stars and chasing meteors. In reality, she was really just sitting on the edge of her bad, eyes clenched shut, but in her dreamworld anything was possible. Even her father’s appearance.


Each Thanksgiving brought hope, and the hope each year was high. It brought the little girl higher and higher, too. Stood on tiptoes, she would stand, suspended in this hope that her father would return, at the door of their house. The months rolled around, like a ball rolling down a hill.


My eyes are being pulled open, a thick film of sleep resting across my eyelids. I turn my head hesitantly to the left, to stare at the calendar. I can’t get my hopes up again. If he didn’t come back the last 3 times he probably won’t this time; it’s science. Each time I hope so much, each Thanksgiving I raise my hopes up so high that when I crash down, I lose myself in misery. Think of it like a puzzle. Each time, it breaks and you lose a few of the pieces, until you have lost all of them. Eventually, I will become these lost pieces, and I will slip into this oblivion.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” My mother shouts from the kitchen. She’s already started cooking. Treading downstairs, I stared hopefully at the door.
“I’m sorry sweetheart…” she mumbles, coming to hug me. I stand, my face in her sweet-smelling cardigan. This. This is exactly how we stood when he left.


I’m sleepwalking through the day in a pattern. In a trance, I pace up and down past our front door.
“Please… Sweetie you can’t walk up and down all day.”
But my mother’s voice doesn’t even penetrate this wall I’ve built around myself. A protective, yet destructive wall that can be changed like the direction of the wind.
“Please, my darling girl… It’s Thanksgiving.”
Eventually, I’m pulled out of my dream. Like a kite, soaring through the air, I am yanked down, down toward the ground. I nod and follow my mother into the dining room to eat lunch. Mashed potatoes, chicken, turkey, corn. I sit in front of platters of delicious festive food and am oblivious to it. Hours on the clock tick tick tick by, as I sit stone cold in my chair. I do not know how long I was sitting there, nor did I notice when my mum stood up to answer a sharp series of knocks on the door. Only when I heard a piercing scream am I shaken out of my reverie. Alarmed, I sprint and stand in the doorway of the front landing. There, in front of my eyes is a man in camouflage uniform, a beret shadowing his scarred, face. His face his hazy, clouded from my eyes, my brain strains to recognise him. But another part of my mind throbs and burns - it’s him. His face is hazy, blurry to me - but sharp and vivid too. I don’t know how to react. His face erupts in a smile, almost identical to mine. My eyes shake and shiver, water pushing through, and tears drip to the floor.
“D-daddy..” I stutter.
I fly into his arms, despite all warning from my mother to be careful.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Martha.” he chuckles, swinging me round.
“Y-you survived Flanders’ Field.” I whisper.
“Only just, Marth.”
I sob into his shoulder.
“Happy Thanksgiving.”

 

My ign: JhowTheSloth

Hi there my name is Charlotte and I want to read you a chapter of my life.
When I was 25 I fell madly in love with my husband @Matt. Matt made me forget all my problems... He was the one for me. On thanks giving he bought me a puppy, she was gorgeous. I was so happy that day I felt like my life was perfect. A few months later I fainted, Matt was crying for help. I awoken in a hospital a few days later finding out that I was diagnosed with breast cancer. We couldn't afford the operation so Matt was desperately looking for money, he saw a flyer to join the army for a couple of grand. I begged him not to but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He went on a plane a few days later as every day mattered. I had Maddy my puppy with me the whole time and I could tell that she new I was sick as she would cry and cuddle with me.

Matt came back from the army and could now afford my surgery but the chances of me surviving were slim. I was in hospital for almost a year and noticed I was getting stronger and stronger, after making a recovery and gained enough strength to get up again I went to matt and we cried is relief. The doctor did tell me there is a chance of it coming back so please if you notice anything strange please get it checked out.

It's now thanks giving we are celebrating Maddy's second birthday by throwing a little party for her, she was having lots of fun and was non stop. Family started arriving for the thanksgiving dinner and Maddy managed to slip through the front door without anyone noticing. We are getting ready to prepare food when we here here squeaking of breaks then a giant thump, we race out the front to find Maddy was laying in front of a car, I dropped to the floor and cried.

I'm now 67 years old and still madly in love with Matt, Matt and I have 2 kidd2bqgjf,wkdrngjoefnggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg.



The end .




Ok with the end part, the doctor told her that her cancer could come back so that shows she died and fell on her key bored.

 

IGN: JustMatt
Story:

I was at the table with my mom, (@Pile) and we were eating our thanksgiving meal. I have no idea how the pot go into the food, but damn, it was a crazy night.

the end

p.s i still have butt cramps to this day for unrelated related reasons ugh

ok

 

IGN: aesthetxc
Story:

Her Ghost​

Thanksgiving was James’ favourite time of the year. It brought hope, happiness and love to his heart. But it was nothing to do with the presents, the dinner, the family time. It was because he got to see her.

Twenty years ago, Iva had gone. James didn’t think of it as death – she had gone to another world, different to the one that ended in a burning building. Twenty years without her constant beauty and love. Without her long, dark, luscious hair, her deep, wide eyes, her sarcastic humour. At least, he thought that’s what would happen.

Once a year, she would be back. Thanksgiving Day, her death date. Different, but the same. Her vibrant colours had been drained – she was black and white. Her crazy personality had been sucked out of her, leaving just the faintest hints of what she used to be. But through all of this, she was still Iva. His Iva.

The mantelpiece clock struck 3pm. James lept up and left the living room, where his family sat around the quiet, humming TV, discussing matters that James has no interest in. The family didn’t object or question James’ sudden leaving – to them, he was just a crazy lover who sat outside his past fiancée’s death place at her death time, mourning. But their opinions didn’t bother him. He had half an hour to find Iva.

Down the road, turn left, through the street, up to the park. James knew this route like that back of his hand. He was at the park in twenty minutes, the silence broken by rushing cars. James sat on the same rusting metal bench, feeling the cold and damp creep through the back of his red shirt and the bottom of his jeans. The wind tousled his red-brown hair, sending it into curls like ocean waves. James hardly noticed – he was staring at the large white building on the other side of the road that contrasted perfectly with the gloomy setting. The building was Iva’s old workplace and death place, that had been transformed into a cinema after the lighting set fire and burnt half of it down. Four dead, seventeen fatal injuries.

Lost deep in his thoughts, James was taken by surprise when a large ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds like a knife through butter. It shone on the grass directly in front of James’ feet, illuminating it so it shimmered eerily. James stood up, holing his hands out to the sky. Out of the corner of his eye, he was people staring at him out their car windows and the odd passer-by raising their eyebrows, all oblivious to the beam of light.

Through the bleakness, a tall, black and white girl, looking the same as she had twenty years ago, floated down, her office-like uniform blowing fiercely to the side in the wind. Her smile repaired James’ broken heart, and her hands hovered centimetres over his. A light pressure pushed James’ hands down and Iva touched the ground, still clinging onto James’ hands.

They gazed into each other’s eyes for what seemed like hours before Iva’s grey lips parted and she spoke in her weak but melodic voice.
“Six hours.” She whispered, tugging on James’ hand and walking in her black high-heels across the park, taking him with her. Six hours for the fire brigade to find her body. Six hours together until she went back to Heaven, Hell or wherever she had come from. For the time being, it was just like they were nineteen again.

​

 

There was once a boy who xPoSeD @Random on thanksgiving, the end.
11/10 right??

 

IGN: WifiHacker
Story:

Why we All Truly Celebrate Thanksgiving​

People around the world celebrate this holiday to express thanks and gratitude to their loved ones and others. This is a cool holiday because it really helps other people to get to know their loved ones and make a connection greater than ever has been contemplated before. Thanksgiving is a holiday of gratitude and grace and it shows other people that you are thankful for what has been given to so so they could be encouraged to give you more. Plenty of strong emotions and feeling are tied to this holiday and I believe everyone should celebrate it. This holiday encourages people to give to others and It is a really influential holiday.

Thanks for reading guys , WifiHacker

 

IGN SqaudOrGang

Once apon a time their was a chicken i was walking around in the mineverse hub then it saw a turkey the chicken when up to the Turkey and said how are u doing the turkey said he was hiding because the mean players on op pvp and kitpvp are looking for him and were going to eat him for Halloween

 

-----------THE FIRE-------------
IGN : PerfectAlyssa
Story is called The Fire.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My family and I were getting ready for the Thanksgiving night.My baby cousin,Jason,was just given birth by my Aunt.It was a family get together.
My father was down in the basement fixing the truck.My mother was cooking in the kitchen.The rest of my family was in the living room,watching TV.I was helping my mother in the kitchen.
BOOM!
The whole family heard a big explosion! I rushed down to the basement to see if my father was alright.When i was heading down,i smelled smoke.The whole place was covered with smoke.I started coughing profusely.I made my way pass the smoke and was shock to see my father under the truck.I rushed to try and push the truck.
After a few times,I was exhausted.Fire was all around the room.My father managed to croak:''Try Again!''I pushed the truck with all my might,and it moved a bit.I kept pushing until there was a opening that my father could get out.I used my hip and held the truck.I helped my father out with my hand.
I put my hand over his shoulders and rushed out to the living room.I screamed: ''Theres a fire! Get out everyone!'' On the way,i grabbed my baby cousin and rushed out of the house.
When we got out,i looked behind.Our huge house was destroyed.I called the ambulance immediately.My fathers leg was bruised and fractured.My hand was fractured.
''We had no idea our house was going to be burned down.''My mother said after the incident.''I was glad that my daughter was strong and she saved us all.''My father added.
Reporters had interviewed me about the incident and how i helped my family.''I was just doing what I am supposed to do as part of the family.''I told them.
Soon after the incident,me and my father healed from the bruises and fractures.
--------------- THE END! -----------------

 

There was a cookie. The End

 

IGN : EarlKnight

Grateful
The people of Slaughterville were getting ready for their favorite season. It consisted of turkeys and eating it. The whole town looked forward to only that holiday because it was the only thing that they were good at. Eating and catching. The turkeys were caught in the forest that surrounded the town. Many men spend days before Thanksgiving catching turkeys for their meals. But that would stop this year.

7 year old Jimmy sat in his house watching his father come out of his room holding a shotgun. He threw his boots onto the hard wooden ground and sat down to start to tie them on his swollen feet. Jimmy stared intently. He had never seen his father leaving so early for the only time he ever seen his dad leave was at night. Jimmy asked quietly, "Papa, where are you off too?" Ignoring him, he continued to tie his laces that started from the toes to his calves. A couple of minutes later Jimmys mother ran out of her room and rushed to help her husband tie his boots. Jimmy kept watching and then turned off the television he was busy watching. He stood up and went in his room. As his father was getting up from tying his shoes Jimmy ran back out of his room into the small enterance that led to the cold frosty outside. He was wearing layers of coats and was holding his small pair of shoes. Both of his parents stared at him with disgust and they turned to go out. His mother stopped heading out to say her goodbye. Jimmy strapped on his shoes and ran out with his dad. "Jimmy what in the world are you doing?" his mother yelled from a distance
"I'm going with Papa!" Jimmys father continued to walk and Jimmy would not leave his side. Then he stopped. He turned around looking at his wife and nodded. His wife turned around and closed the door behind her and they continued on into the forests.

They found one. A huge one. Papa was aiming his gun straight to his head. Jimmy stared with disbelief that this was what he was eating. This was why all the men weren't at their homes days before Thanksgiving. The food they ate was death. Death of a poor animal just to celebrate Thanksgiving. Jimmy ran into The open space where the turkey was standing. His father pulled the trigger and Jimmy was shot.

Thanksgiving is not a holiday where you give thanks. Is thanks really given to the turkey? Who sacrificed his life just for your celebration? Jimmy was sadly left out in the woods because his father was busy chasing the turkey which had run away from the loud noise of the gun. His body lays in the small open patch of fallen leaves in the forest outside of his house. Every year the turkeys return to give him thanks for believing that thanksgiving is not all eating turkey. It's the spirit in which you give thanks to the things that you take for granted. And that is not to eat turkey.

 

Polly Pine.


"I don't know why," said mamma, laughing; "go and dress them in their best clothes, get the dolls' house swept and dusted and the table ready. Then I'll fix their dinner before we go downstairs."


"Oh, how nice!" said Polly Pine.


The doll house stood in the nursery. It was very big and very beautiful. It was painted red; it had tall chimneys, and a fine front door. There were lace curtains at the windows, and two steps led up to the cutest little piazza. Polly Pine swept the rooms with her tiny broom and dusted them. Then she set the table in the dining-room with the very best dishes and the finest silver. She set a teeny vase in the middle of the table, with two violets in it, and she put dolly table napkins at each place.


dollhouse

When the house was all nice and clean she dressed Lavinia in her pink muslin, and Dora Jane in her gray velvet, and Hannah Welch in her yellow silk; then she seated them around the table, each one in her own chair. Polly was just telling them about company manners, how they must not eat with their knives, or leave their teaspoons in their cups when they drank their tea, when the door opened and in came mamma with a real dolls' Thanksgiving dinner.There was a chicken bone to put on the platter before Hannah Welch, for Hannah always did the carving. There were yummy little dishes of mashed potato and cranberry sauce, and some celery in a tiny tumbler, and the smallest pumkin pie baked in a patty pan. Polly Pine just hopped up and down with delight when she saw it. She set everything on the table; then she ran away to put on her nicest muslin frock with the pink ribbons, and she went downstairs to her own dinner.


One of Polly's uncles who came for dinner could change his table napkin into a white rabbit, and she forgot all about the dolls' Thanksgiving dinner until it was dessert-time, and the nuts and raisins came in.


Then Polly remembered, and she jumped down from her chair and asked mamma if she might go upstairs and see if the dolls had eaten their dinner. When mamma told everyone about the doll house Thanksgiving, all the family wanted to go, too, to find out if the dolls had enjoyed their dinner.


The front door of the doll house was open, and there sat the dolls just as their little mistress had left them—only they had eaten nearly all the dinner! Everything was gone except the potato and the cranberry sauce. The chicken leg was picked bare, the bread was nibbled, and the little pie was eaten all around.


"Well, this is funny," said papa.


Just then they heard a funny, scratching noise in the doll house, and a little gray mouse jumped out from under the table. He ran out the front door of the doll house, and over the piazza, and down the steps before you could say "Jack Robinson." In a minute he was gone—nobody knew where. There was another tiny mouse in the doll house under the sofa, and a third one under Lavinia's bed, with a poor, frightened gray tail sticking out. They all got away safe. Papa would not allow mamma to go for the cat. He said:


"Why can't a poor little mouse have a Thanksgiving dinner as well as we?"


The End. :D

IGN: Striqingz Forgot to mention that

 

Roses are Red, Violets are blue, and I'm going to lose.

IGN: UncleUrnesto

 

IGN: Puissant
Hope you all enjoy this little story

Mom is not even getting out of bed even for Thanksgiving

Mom's operation was 2 days ago, she looks like she's getting better. But she's staying in bed. And she isn't getting out. Not even for Thanksgiving.
I'm the oldest. Quentin is in the middle, or should I say in the muddle. He's smart, for sure, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in his projects that he forgets the rest of the world exists. Sarah is six years younger than I am, and she's either happy or sad, but never in between. And that is why, on a cold November morning, Dad told me that Iwould be cooking Thanksgiving dinner.
It's only going to be us, no company or anything ,but I am still worried. I've never cooked any kind of dinner before, and here I am starting off with an important one like Thanksgiving.
Dad says he'll do the turkey. Dad always does the turkey. He makes the stuffing in Grandma's old striped mixing bowl, which has cracks in it that are older than my dad. He crumbles the bread with his long fingers and crams the stuffing inside the turkey until it looks like it should burst. Then he lines up little sausages on the top of the turkey, holding them in place with toothpicks. He says they keep the meat moist, but Mom thinks it's just an excuse for him to eat sausage. It's not on his diet.
Dad says he'll do the turkey. He says it as if the turkey were the whole thing. As if the rest were easy. As if I knew how to make those little marshmallows melt just right over the sweet potatoes. As if I knew how to mash potatoes so they don't have lumps. As if I knew how to make the baked onions that no one but Dad will touch but without which Thanksgiving wouldn't be Thanksgiving. But what if the vegetables aren't done on time? What if something burns? What if it's a disaster and it's all my fault and everyone remembers for our whole lives the Thanksgiving that I personally ruined, even though Dad did the turkey? My friend Stan doesn't understand my sudden interest in giblets. I had asked our teacher whether she usually put them in the gravy or the stuffing. Then Stan caught me watching his mother boil potatoes for dinner. He stood in amazement as I inquired about peeling technique and temperature. Stan thinks I'm weird. When I woke up this morning and realized it was Thanksgiving, I felt sick. Mom says today is my chance to shine. I don't see it that way. I figure there's only one way to shine and a whole lot of ways to mess up.
Fortunately, Sarah is in a good mood. I couldn't take her whining right now. Quentin is in his room working on a model of a monkey's brain. Mom is in bed, of course. And she is definitely not getting out. Dad is doing the turkey. And I'm trying to read Mom's handwriting on some recipe cards that are so stained with food spills that they could be made into a casserole themselves. I don't have a chance.
The onions went into the oven first. They were actually pretty easy. I had started on the sweet potatoes when Dad yelled out from the living room that something smelled terrific. Things were looking up.
Then a cold feeling rushed through my body. Dessert. How could I have forgotten? We always have pie at Thanksgiving. Maybe Dad had bought a pie. No such luck. Maybe we could run to the store to buy a pie. Closed for Thanksgiving. Disaster. I knew it. I forgot the pie.
I went to the pantry to analyze my options. When I'm an adult I will definitely keep a supply of pie fillings for emergencies like this. The closest thing I could find was a jar of applesauce. It would have to do. But what could I use for the crust? I looked around. Cereal. Everyone likes cereal. I took down a few boxes and, unable to choose, mixed them together, mashing them down in the pie plate. They didn't stick together very well, so I mixed in some peanut butter. Then I poured in the applesauce and put the whole thing in the oven.
All in all, dinner went pretty well. Mom stayed in bed. And she didn't get out. She ate her food from a tray, tasting each thing and remarking "not bad" and "good job" and "nicely done." She stopped when she got to the pie. It wasunusual. The peanut butter had melted, leaving a shell of multi-colored cereal fragments and creating an oil slick on the filling. "Interesting presentation," she said.
Mom liked the sweet potatoes best. Dad said he liked the onions best, but I saw him sneak a couple of sausages when he put the turkey away. Quentin and Sarah both thought the pie was cool, their highest compliment. I was just glad dinner was over.
Next year Mom is going to make the Thanksgiving dinner. She says I won't even have to help because I had to do everything this year. So I plan to stay in bed. And I'm not getting out. Not until dinner is ready.

 

My IGN : ItsEco
Story name : Why We Eat Turkey On Thanksgiving

Every year, Turkey Claus flies around the world. Turkey Claus, dressed in his big brown suit saying "Santa Stinks" delivers beef to everybody around the world on Thanksgiving, protesting Chick fil-A for advertising to eat his cousins. On one special night, he was stopped while delivering beef. A kung fu ninja cow was standing in front of him! The K.F.C (kung fu cow) had stopped him! Turkey Claus rolled off his brown suit and appeared in exercise clothing. The K.F.C got up in stance with his arms raised above him like wings and a leg raised up. He snapped his leg in a teeny crane kick. The K.F.C darted toward Turkey Claus and tried to kick him. Turkey Claus opened his mouth and used it like a machine gun to shoot little bits of stuffing. The K.F.C dodged it and mooed. He sprang toward Turkey Claus and stood on top of him. He knocked him unconcious and put him on his back. The K.F.C dragged him to the nearest house and put them in their fridge. The next morning, Turkey Claus woke up in an oven. "Well, this isn't gonna be good".

And that's why we eat turkey on Thanksgiving! Because Turkey Claus doesn't deliver beef anymore!

 

Name: Fat guy

There was a fat guy and he made a diet
So he's not fat anymore
Ign iAmori

 

IGN: ElliotPoots

Today's air was crisp; like no other. The clouds were lower than usual, and seemed to blend with the misty fog. The sun's rays glimmered, and glimmered only. The fog was merely too thick for the light of the sun to penetrate the mist. The roofs of houses were barely visible, and distinguishing a face in the distance would require super-human powered eyes.


The day was cold, and if by a chance, you could see another human's head through the denseness of the fog - their wooly mask or fluffy balaclava would shield their identity. The fog and temperature of this day was indefinitely the most peculiar. Hell; for all you knew -- the person stood in front or behind you could be a criminal, but the undistinguishable weather masked their truth.


However. Through this thick fog, the only building that was relatively visible was Apartment Complex B. Complex B was home to many senior residents; many veterans. Sat, idly, on the entrance to this complex sat an elderly man. His demeanour was gloomy, his face was the cavern for multiple cracks defined by the passed years, his clothes were ragged, and his hair was short, but long enough to whisk. His beard was rebelling his face, and had been set free by all human-care.


Beneath the man; laid a stick. The man's eyes were lifeless and simply useless. The man couldn't see the light of day, when there was any. This particular man had lost his eyes to the global war, to the shrapnel of a scatter-bomb in 1944.


This was a man who couldn't look his own daughter in the eyes; who wouldn't know a threat or danger if it looked directly at him. The man was homeless, his demeanour reflected and certainly didn't contrast to his lifestyle.


Although this man was entirely dependant on his navigation skill, and the biologically enhanced hearing, the man had been sat, in the same place, on the step to Complex B for what seemed like a millenium. The same woman passed him daily. She passed him every day, each time - placing a few pennies into his seated-on-the-ground hat. Above his hat, a sign was erected; which printed "Please help, I'm blind.", the hat (asides from woman's money) was essentially empty.


One day, on the 12th of November, the woman - on her usual route to Complex B - passed the man, yet this time, took the sign from his possession. A couple hours later, the woman begin her exit from Complex B, and with a new sign - left the building, returning the sign to the man's possession.


Days passed, and many people started throwing money into the man's hat. The clinking of change hitting one another was becoming frequent. Day by day, the man was collecting more and more, and more money. By the 18th of November; the man's hat was full. Full to the brim.


The man took this hat, and all its contents to the manager of Apartment Complex B, and registered a small apartment room in exchange for his collected change.


The man began decorating his room, with an open door, a sign was prepped on the wall adjacent to his room, which stated "Thanksgiving dinner, free for all" and more and more of the senior citizens began painting, adding and decorating the room.


The senior citizens spread the sign's message that the elderly blind man had originally created. And spread the word that in the man's apartment; thanksgiving dinner was welcoming anyone who came and contributed anything to the feast.


The 24th of November had arrived. Masses of people gathered outside of the blind man's apartment in Complex B. Each individual brought an item of food, and added it to the army of food.


The room had been contrasted, its once gloomy, dark, dingy atmosphere had been converted into something that flowed happiness, emitted vibrant colours, generated laughs and excitement.


The end of the day was approaching, and the multitude of people were chatting. The man was sat by the door, alone, again. The woman walked to the door, the man recognised her clicking heels, and grabbed her arm. He demanded "What did you write on the sign?", the woman replied "Today, today is a great day - and I cannot see it." the man responded; "Why, why would you help me, what have I done for you?". The woman said, "You've done everything for me, you mean everything to me, father.".



The clouds parted each other. The misty fog vanished, and the sun's vibrant rays shone like never before. The once gloomy sun had transformed like the apartment in Complex B and emitted warmth. It was as if the sun were smiling at the blind man. As if the weather reflected the wonderful thanksgiving dinner.