(Count Crankula vs. The Swedish Chef)

      

           I’m sure you’ll all forgive me for the lateness of my Thanksgiving posting, as Thanksgiving Day itself and in fact this entire week has proved to be quite hectic. The Occupy Papyrus Acres camp is still intact down town, there being no local constabulary to speak of  in Papyrus Acres.  Naturally there have been no local abuses of authority, no brutality, forced evacuations in the middle of the night and no arrests or  pepper spraying incidents, either. However, since Thanksgiving week has been wet, cold and miserable for camping out, I decided the brave Occupants needed and deserved a hot Thanksgiving dinner over at my place and invited them to supper, accordingly:

 

 

  

            As you might imagine, I had quite a guest list to contend with, and quite a spread was needed to feed everyone in the appropriate feasting  style of the holiday. Two turkeys and a great many side dishes and desserts were required. I did a lot of the cooking, but also hired an assistant.  My oven was going like gang busters all this past week—whoo-ee!  But the guests were all so pleased to be warm and dry and not have to miss their Thanksgiving dinners, they were all wonderful company.

 

            Well, for the most part, they were. We had our share of drama yesterday evening, even without any clashes with the police. Cranky Cuss, I’m sorry to report that your Transylvanian cousin, Count Crankula, was chiefly responsible for the contretemps. After greeting my guests, I went into the dining room to   get our turkeys carved and make everything ready for dinner to be served.  I was dismayed to find Count Crankula in there already, menacing one of our poor defenseless roast turkeys before anyone  else had even had their first helping!  I was shocked at such a want of manners, even in someone who spends his days in a coffin in Transylvania. And so was 1-Irritated Mother! 

        

  

            But our indignation was as nothing compared to the injured pride of my poor hired chef.  

      

  

            As you can see, the poor fellow was quite steamed, really. He became so agitated, he even grabbed his cleaver and chased Count Crankula around all through the downstairs rooms in front of my guests! 

 

  

 

        I think Vivian Henoch might have been able to get some photos of the chase.  

 

    but most guests took shelter upstairs. I’m sure it’s one of those events that will be funny in retrospect, but one of my best lamps did get broken and I really don't know how I'll get the cranberry sauce stains out of my diningroom wall paper. At one point, Count Crankula threw a pie at Bork in self defense when he got cornered in the diningroom,  which was not so good, as we already short in the dessert category for the number of people present.

 

  

After we got Bork calmed down (and took away his cleaver) I had rather a job coaxing everyone   back downstairs with promises that it was safe to come and eat. It was like herding cats, honestly!

 

 

Er, no offense, everyone! Con Chapman  especially,  was not at ALL sure it was advisable to come down.

    

Chicago Guy, being closeted with Nelson Algren, Thomas Wolfe and Joe Williams, was  also particularly hard to lure down from the guest bedroom where he’d been hard at work on a  new post all afternoon. 

 

“But nobody here thinks you’re a loser, Roger!” I had to insist. “Nobody is alone when they’re giving thanks! Please come eat with us.”

 

 Alas, I couldn’t persuade his companions to come too, even after Roger agreed to join us for dinner.

           

            The dinner itself was wonderful, of course. Mister Comedy and Con Chapman kept us all laughing, Romantic Poetess gave a reading, and the conversation was lively and stimulating, no matter where one sat to eat. I think every chair I own was occupied and more people Occupied the stairs.

         When it was time to serve dessert, though, I realized Count Crankula was not the only guest to have helped themself ahead of time. Somebody cut a big piece right out of the best pecan pie!

            

 

            Well, a wise hostess always has an extra dessert on hand, at need and so I brought out my emergency apple tart.

                                                         

     Happy Thanksgiving Open Salon!

  

I give thanks for you all!