Thanksgiving Dinner

You’re sitting at a Thanksgiving dinner, an invited guest of a middle class family. Odd looking foods sit on the table as the head of the family, the father, comes out of the kitchen and sits down at the table.

“Are we ready?”

The rest of the family nods. He looks at you, and you nod as well.

The mother stands, and splits the food up on the respective plates. There are other foods as well: Mashed potatoes, turkey, salad, rolls, etc. A gourd of fruit adorns the middle of the table, which is covered by a white table cloth.

“Ok, now let us pray.” You respectfully clasp your hands together with the other family members, and the father begins to speak again:

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for this food. We thank you for the great blessings you have bestowed upon us this year, and we thank you for this blessed day you have set aside for our celebration, Lord. In your name, Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone else, including you, state out loud in prayer.

“Now, let us eat.”

You pick up a fork and knife, and decide to start with the odd meat. It appears to be brown colored and circular. You think it possibly maybe a steak, but then again, who would have steak on Thanksgiving?

You cut a bite off, and jam the fork into it. Picking it up slowly, you eye it for a moment, unsure.

“Something wrong, dear?” the mother asks you. The children are busy stuffing their faces, or being stubborn and picky by refusing to eat, but you can still hear enough to answer.

“No, it’s nothing,” you reply. With that, you stick the piece in your mouth. It is oddly chewy, and sour. It tastes different from any steak or meat you’ve ever tasted. It barely goes down but you manage to swallow it.

The odd taste makes you even further questionable. You turn to the mother, and ask a question.

“Miss, do you mind if I ask what this odd meat is? Is it steak or something?”

She looks at you and laughs.

“No dearie, it’s not steak. It’s James.” Senjumaru Shutara