A young boy sat down at his family’s thanksgiving dinner and quickly felt as though he was in a cage. He was not a small kid, big really when compared to the rest of his family, and now he was squeezed in so closely at the dinner table that he could barely move. Elbows of his brother and uncle, on either side, kept hitting him has they shovelled food into their mouths. The pushing back and forth reminded him of being aboard a ship during a storm. His frustration with the evening had been growing steadily that he thought he may explode soon.
He badly wanted the mash potatoes and gravy but he was far too timid to dare speak up and ask for the other side of the table to pass them down his way. He tried poking his uncle and whispering to his brother but neither paid him any attention. He only had the three dishes within reach; the turkey, cranberry sauce and his mother’s famous mashed carrots.
He had put very small amounts of the carrot mash on his plate, not wanting to be rude as to not take any at all. The carrots were, to his memory, the worst food he had ever tasted. It had the bright orange colour of a tiger and the texture of dirt. He could usually trick his taste buds by mixing it together with the cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy but today his family seemed to forget he was there. He could only pretend to be content as he pushed the food he did have around on his plate.
Maybe the cranberry sauce alone would be enough. He thought to himself as he took a spoonful of the mixture he had created. He slowly brought it to his lips and placed some on the edge of his tongue. At first the taste was alright but as soon as he began to swallow he gagged. The cranberry sauce was not doing a good enough job at masking the texture or taste. The gagging turned to choking and he quickly pushed his chair back from the table to stand as he coughed.
Everyone stopped talking and stared at him. He cleared his throat and laughed at his overreaction but happy he now had some attention. “Pass the potatoes and gravy please”