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Prose Challenge of the Week #50 : With Thanksgiving around the corner, write about a conversation around the table where a family secret is unfurled. The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100 and the runner-up will receive 1000 coins. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags #itslit #getlit #ProseChallenge
Cover image for post Thanks on the Farm, yeah right. . ., by EmmaKat
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EmmaKat
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Thanks on the Farm, yeah right. . .

Papa Robbit:  This is great.  So great that we've got the whole family around this table.

Mama Robbit:  We're blessed to have such loving, Christian children to carry on our. . .

Angelica:  So this is, like, the first time since Pookie killed herself?

Papa Robbit:  You would have to bring that up.  Why do you always try to ruin things?

Angelica:  Wasn't me ruined it for the Pook.  As I recall, you did your part, and how.

Mama Robbit:  Go to your room! 

Angelica:  What room?  You put in bunks and there are twelve undocumented farmworkers in what used to be my room.  Lucky to get the couch.  I should report you.

Papa Robbit:  Can't you contain yourself until after dinner?  This is a family thing.

Angelica:  Yeah, right!  Hormone-stuffed turkey slaughtered by semi-slave labor.  Do you think they have families, too?

Whit:  The turkeys or the workers?

They all stop talking and stare at him. 

Whit: Turkeys have mothers and stuff, right?

Angelica:  Don't be a dork, unless you can't help it.  Okay?

Whit:  Okay.  But humans are also animals.  So animal rights are, potentially, human rights.

Papa Robbit:  Where do you get that crazy liberal crap?  Not from us. . .

Whit:  Same place Pookie got the Gay Pride stuff.  Which you crapped on to the extent that she decided she'd rather be dead than live with you in this house.

Mama Robbit:  Still blaming us for her inability to overcome her illness?  Her sin?

Whit:  I blame you for seeing it as a sickness and a sin.

Papa Robbit:  So you think that sexual perversion is good?  We were trying to keep her from ruining her life, and the lives of other innocent people.

Mama Robbit:  The turkey is done.  Could we set this aside until after we eat?

Angelica:  Another couple glasses of wine and I could give a shit! 

Papa Robbit:  Could you treat this family with respect?  Please?

Whit:  I have a brief announcement.

Mama Robbit:  Can't it wait?

Whit:  I don't think so.  I want to tell you that I'm a werewolf. 

Papa Robbit:  You're a what? 

Whit:  Werewolf— I change into a wolf sometimes. 

Angelica:  A wolf?  Like, four legs, tail, fangs? 

Whit:  Just like that.  It feels good not to be human for a while. 

Mama Robbit:  Oh thank the Lord!  I thought you were going to tell us you're gay.

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