“My Favorite Holiday,” an essay by Deborah Webster
Class: American History
Teacher: Mr. Dimpyl
Date: Time to get a calendar
Note: So I know we were supposed to write about pilgrims for your class but I think history is kind of boring and I would much rather write an essay about my favorite holiday, which is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving has to do with Pilgrims so it’s almost like writing the same thing. I don’t want you to give me a bad grade so I’ll just quickly tell you some things I’ve learned about Pilgrims so you know that I pay attention in your class.
Pilgrims are more than just badly-dressed dolls or lawn ornaments that people put out around Thanksgiving to remind people that turkey time is just around the corner (fyi: “turkey time” is slang for Thanksgiving). Dressed in boots with buckles on them, white socks, capris and weird hats, pilgrims were seventeenth-century English Puritans who came to live in Plymouth Colony in Plymouth, Massachussets. They fought with a lot of Indians (probably about whose hats were dorkier) and after the Indians gave the Pilgrims a really hard time for no reason, the tawny savages all died or gave up, probably because they were always naked and got cold. The Pilgrims were the second English settlement in what went on to become the U.S. of A., which is where I live (and it’s where you live, too, Dimpyl!).
So that’s all I’m gonna say about that. Now for my essay. My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving for a lot of different reasons. The first reason is that my mom melts little marshmallows all over boiled yams and it tastes good, especially when washed down with a tall glass of banana Yoo-Hoo. Blue Robin and I used to have count-downs to Thanksgiving (our families celebrate together), but no count-down this year because this year I became popular and so we don’t talk that much anymore.
Another reason why I love Thanksgiving is that Jennifer Chicken always wears little ceramic turkey earrings in her ears the day before we get out for break, and they bobble up and down like poetry in motion. I made some turkey earrings of my own out of felt in art class this year and plan on wearing them on the same day she wears hers; now that I’m popular it only seems fit. I used googly eyes for them and everything so I’m sure they’ll be a hit.
Also, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because we don’t have to be in school for it (no offense!) and if I said Christmas was my favorite holiday it would be too obvious, even though honestly Christmas is my favorite holiday. The things I have to be grateful for this year are the following: 1.) I’m the one Timmy Bones will ultimately end up bringing to the Holiday Hop even though he’s currently playing hard to get 2.) the fact that no one besides Timmy Bones knows that I lie daily about being a teen model, 3.) the fact that my mom knows how to make the savoriest stuffing EVER 4.) the fact that my breasts are starting to swell, resembling tiny rosebuds.
In conclusion, Pilgrims were early English settlers, and Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
Thank you.
previously: Deb Does Grass: My Journey with Drugs by Deb Webster
Mr. Sheldon Maneuver fancies himself Latino. His fondness for all things Hispanico began in his early teens and can be traced back to his first taste of meaty Taquito at a roadside 7-11. After this fateful encounter, Mr. Maneuver sought out the only Espanish persona for 6 counties, an 88 year old Puerto Rican shut-in named Ferraro Dominguez. At first, the elderly señor was put off by the attentions of the Gringo, but he quickly warmed to the plucky Maneuver. In exchange for Spañol lessons, Maneuver performed odd jobs around la casa Dominguez, such as spackling cracks and moving mounds of dirt back and forth. On his death bed, Sr. Dominguez willed Maneuver his mama’s pearl-laden prayer book, somewhat out of kinship but mostly because he had no living heirs. Maneuver whispered into the fading man’s whiskery ears a promise to return to la patria, the homeland of Costa Rica (Ferraro would have corrected him had he either cared or been conscious).
Chad Loaf was sewn by the seeds of Paula and Jacques Loaf (via faulty diaphragm) on an unseasonably warm Valentine’s Day at the Lower Swedshon Airport Sheraton. Jacques Loaf is a native of New Orleans who alighted to the midwest in the wake of a failed “Beignet Cafe” venture that left a handful of Armenian entrepeneurs with a taste for blood. He met Paula while she was working a churro stand at the Tri-State World Festival. They first locked lips over a steaming pile of sugar-fried bread.
Lance Child MaGirk trolls the streets for treasure. This is mainly because he happens to be the official treasurer of the Funky Hunks - the most popular boys at West Swedshon Junior High (to be exact)! As such, Lance is the only one who possesses the key to the secret Funky Hunk treasure chest filled with various bills and coins (which can be used to purchase things). You can often find him wearing jams, culottes, hammer pants and/or a long-sleeved Tee with a large scorpion printed on the chest. Also, he doesn’t leave the house without his trusty coonskin cap that keeps the ladies wanting more. They often ask: “What’s under the coon, Lance?” Answer: his head.
