HOW WE SPENT THANKSGIVING 2008

On November 27, 2008, there was a malfunction at the TSAT compound. It appears that Brandon J. Carr and David C. Garcia had intended to host a large Thanksgiving meal for an assortment of friends, colleagues and hated, hated enemies. Seemingly, the compound staff (mostly robots and monkeys) had spent days preparing/stealing a gigantic meal to be served in the compound dining hall. On that fateful Thursday morning, an incident involving a Diet Coke being spilled into a control panel led to the compound going into lockdown mode, apparently stranding guests outside as they arrived and locking the successful writing/illustrating duo inside. What follows is a transcript of what happened that day as captured by the compound’s internal wiretap system (installed after the “Yes, You DID Say You Liked Barry Manilow” incident in 2007). At this point in the transcript, a couple of hours have already passed.

BRANDON
Dude, check this out on the monitor. Why are they all still standing around out there ringing the doorbell? If the front door wasn’t three feet of pure metal, I’d go over there and laugh at them so they could hear it. You’d think one of them would have called the police or army or something.

DAVID
No way, dude. There is no way the army could infiltrate the compound. That door is more metal than Slayer and Patrick Swayze combined. Fucking heavy metal like the wind. Hey, look at Snake. She’s totally hitting on that Indian. Did you invite indians to the compound? Not cool, man. Not cool.

BRANDON
That’s not an Indian, stupid. That’s Danny Trejo. Damn, I was really hoping to get his thoughts on the economy.

DAVID
Danny Trejo is the shit! Goddammit! DANNY TREJO! BUST DOWN THIS DOOR WITH YOUR AWESOMENESS, VATO! Hey Brandon, you know what I am thankful for? Me. I pretty much rule. How about you?

BRANDON
I’d have to say I’d also thankful for you. But if by you I actually mean me. And my awesomeness, which is at least much, much greater than yours. I’m also thankful for, uh, peace?

DAVID
Whatever, dude. You suck. Hey, do you think it would be cool if we ate some of that turkey? I’m hungry, and I figure if we don’t start to eat this mound of food we stole from the Salvation Army food drive, then it’s going to start going bad

BRANDON
Which turkey? The one dressed up like Robocop? The one rolled up in a giant tortilla? We’ve got 13 or 14 turkeys here, man.

DAVID
Um, whichever one the monkeys haven’t ejaculated into yet. If Danny Trejo ever busts down this door for us, we’ll give the “special” turkeys back to the homeless. I’m also thankful for grody, stinky, unkempt homeless people. Even on my bad days, all I have to do is look/laugh at one of them, and I feel way better about myself.

BRANDON
Absolutely. I mean, my overall feelings of superiority are completely justified. But somehow those filthy grossbags keep them inflated even more. I’m also thankful for the 20 different mounds of mashed potatoes we have here, each one sculpted into a different 80s band mid-performance. I could really go for some Motley Crue in my mouth right about now.

DAVID
Ironically, I think the Cruetatoes are completely infected. I wouldn’t eat those. Motley Crue Rules. You know what, if we ever get out of here, we should try and raise some money for the Crue to come and perform a live show for us while we craft more master essays. But, how could we afford to do that? Hmmmmm…. http://www.thesestoriesaretrue.com/hallofheroes/? I’d be thankful to anyone who could help keep the compound awesome and jam-packed with geniuses and robots. And Motley Crue.

BRANDON
Really? In the middle of an essay…I mean…in the middle of our being trapped here? Jeez, man. Anyway. Yes, now that I look at them, it seems like the monkeys got to those potatoes. Either that or those are the only ones with white gravy. Let’s see…what else am I thankful for? Oh, I know. I’m thankful for the robots we have around here. They cook and clean and are surprisingly tender lovers.

DAVID
Did you see that? One of the monkeys just died! That ruled! Do we still have the wood-chipper in the compound? I’m thankful for mindless violence. I’m also thankful for well-thought out violence…Like when we cram that monkey into the wood-chipper in a few seconds. Do you still have that MP3 of Sarah McLaughlin’s “In The Arms of the Angels?” Let’s rock that shit when we spray monkey parts all over the food we plan to give back to the bums at the Salvation Army.

BRANDON
No, we took the wood chipper outside, remember? When we ordered all of that Canadian snow so we could play “Fargo” with blood-filled mannequins? That was fun. I was thankful for that. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty thankful for the ability to even be thankful. Having feelings and emotions is awesome. I’m thankful that I can feel joy every time I see a fat guy slip and fall on patch of ice or sadness when every Bryan Fuller show gets cut down in its prime. And the emotion itself of awesomeness that I feel when I do pretty much anything.

DAVID
Son-of-a-bitch! Dannny Trejo is leaving. And Snake is going with him! Actually, that’s kind of cool. If Danny Trejo does my woman….Wait, what am I saying! Who cares about that. I can’t beleive you left the wood chipper outside. And I can’t believe you decided to let the retards from the special needs school wire the compound door. Free isn’t always good, douchebag. It’s your fault we’re going to die in here with an un-wood-chipped monkey. You know what I am NOT thankful for? You.

BRANDON
Are you fucking kidding me? With all the times you’ve had me drag that thing in and out of this compound, you’d think that maybe you’d be NOT thankful for your female-like inability to settle on a decision. Remember how many times you looked at the compound lounge and thought “No, maybe the couch should go over there.” And then made me move it? THAT is retarded. Free wiring is like free anything. You take what you get. So you know who I’m NOT thankful for? Your parents for unleashing you on this world. Except your mom. I was thankful for her three times last night.

DAVID
Yeah, you tried to hit on my mom and got totally shot down. But guess what? YOUR mom actually got rocked by Mexcalibur. You know what else I am not thankful for? I’m not thankful for that time when I decided against taking a dump on your face after you cried yourself to sleep on the stoop outside my apartment after my mom shot you down. I am thankful, though, that I ejaculated into your shampoo.

BRANDON
You know what? I–no, we should stop this, man. It’s Thanksgiving. Listen, let’s pull all this ridiculous nonsense behind us. Give me a hug, man. Come close and…

[A LOUD, METALLIC CLANGING IS HEARD AND THE SOUND OF DAVID HITTING THE FLOOR AND SCREAMING "Oww, fucky!" IS AUDIBLE.]

DAVID
That’s it, motherfucker! I am tired of your shit! I am tired of you telling people that all I do is make jokes about boners and ejaculation and that you take everything I write and make it better and funnier! Where’s that dead monkey boner I was playing with a few minutes ago?….Ah, there it is. Get over here, you dorky bitch!

[A SQUISHY, FLESHY NOISE IS IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED UP BY BRANDON'S MUFFLED, GARBLED, "AgggHHHhhh.... Monkey... *graahrggle*... Monkey boner spooge!...*gaaaaaaghhh!*" THERE IS A PERIOD OF SILENCE FOLLOWING THIS, FILLED ONLY WITH THE SOUNDS OF BURDENED BREATHING.]

BRANDON (after coughing up a thick liquid)
This is ridiculous. Is this what we’ve been reduced to? You’re shoving monkey boners in my mouth and being cuckolded by Danny Trejo? I’m getting upset about moving furniture around like we’re an old married couple? You know what I’m really thankful for? Tomorrow. When we can really put all this bullshit behind us and go back to being celebrated essayists. And go get really, really cheap stuff at Wal-Mart with all the other idiots out to strike gold on Black Friday.

DAVID
That story is true…ehem…dot com. Hey, look at all of the fans we have out there. Our fans are like way to devoted. Umm. Holy shit! Danny Tejo came back! He’s got Corey Feldman with him! Oh my shit! Look! Brandon, wipe that moneky semen out of your eyes! *cough!* Look! It’s Danny Trejo, and Corey Feldman, and Jesus! Holy crap, Jesus the gardener came! *cough* And is that Black U.S. President? And is that Igor? *cough!*

BRANDON
It is! *cough* And listen…do you hear that? Through the door. Is that…are they singing Thanksgiving Carols? They *cough* are. It’s beautiful!

DAVID
Hey, I’m not feeling very well….*cough* Do you see those guys out there? *cough!* Hey…Brandon, when the retards set up the metal doors, did they set up any sort of ventilation system?…*choke!* Look, Danny Trejo just turned into a Velocizombie….*cough!*

BRANDON
*cough* And look, it’s *cough* us sitting in leather *huurrk* chairs talking about *cough* cool…cool stuff. *cough*

What followed was a declining series of gurgles and coughs, eventually followed by silence. The sound-activated system came to life again about an hour later, when a police officer came into the compound after receiving a call from a neighbor who stated the yelling s/he heard from the compound was a little different from normal. The officer found no evidence of a meal or a dinner party, only Brandon and David unconscious and spooning on the floor of the compound garage. There was a haze in the air and one of David’s El Caminos was still running, “Hits Of The 80s” playing loudly from its stereo. It is not believed the two were attempting suicide, as it appears they were in the middle of a game of Twister when these events transpired. The two only suffered minor mental damage from the carbon monoxide, which was little noticed by those closest to them. The case was closed and all files related to it, save this one, were destroyed.