I am thanks to ketchup... because is so delicious.
-Suoguo on what he is most thankful for
Enter Thanksgiving stage right.
The curtains open on this scene: gimpy Christmas tree decorated with an ornament assortment hailing from the 1980's leaned in a corner, apple cider candle lit, tiny kitchen stuffed with thanksgivingesque foods bubbling on the stove and baking in the toaster oven, one white girl with flour handprints on her pants is fussing around the tiny room.
(Tapping at the door) Enter five year old Tibetan neighbor child, stage center.
The white girl's visage is a mixture of surprise, amusement, and mild relief for the company. The Tibetan child stuffs her pockets with m&m's and plants herself in a chair in the sun to flip through the stack of children's books she can't read. The white girl disappears into the kitchen hole. When she returns the Tibetan child has taken all the ornaments off the tree and lined them up on the table, with the exception of two she has chosen to hang on her ears.
Scene over, with the addition of a few more m&m's, exit Tibetan child stage left. Close curtains.
They swish open again to behold a scene with a table covered in quickly cooling dishes, and ornaments back on the tree. The center stage door is left cracked and through it file Chinese and Tibetan coworkers bearing gifts... Apples, grapes (washed and quickly added to the table), a can of tea leaves, a years worth of apple juice... The staff take their seats around the table, filling up the small room and the feast begins.
(Phone ringing) On the line is the tinny voice of Mr. Wu calling from Australia: I miss your thanksgiving.
The friends at the table deliberate much on which dish is the most delicious, decide unanimously, with one exception who is always the exception, that the sweet potato casserole goes home with the gold. Jokes are told, dishes are scrapped clean, stomachs bulge. End scene with the entire party exiting stage center together. The curtains close on dirty dishes left on the ruined table.
They slide open again to reveal another set entirely: another teacher's apartment, long wooden table low to the floor, piles of books and paintings, tiny tea cups, and six friends squatting on cushions on the floor sipping tea and listening to a smoker play chinese pop songs on guitar. Dishes waiting paitiently upstairs force a sleepy white girl to exit stage right. Scene over. Curtains close.
Exit Thanksgiving.
I am thanks to my Father who fixes it so that I never really have to exit thanksgiving...
