Thanksgiving at Gramma’s

Of  three Thanksgiving Day inspired stories, I settled on this one—a gross out story.  Click the arrow below for this fun little tale.

The meat of this story starts the moment little Tyler Tedesco found the sweetener in his grandmother’s pantry and decided to sweeten everything for Thanksgiving. There was a box of it, all in small bottles. So he secreted a bottle into the squash, another into the turnip, and kept going until he sweetened everything except the cranberry sauce, which was already pretty sweet.

He and his mom had arrived at Gramma’s well before everyone else, to help prepare the holiday meal. All the rest showed up soon after the clock in the hall gonged a single time.

Just about the moment conversations began to dwindle to how good the turkey smelled, Gramma announced it was time to sit in the dining room. The whole family crowded around the table and Gramma began pointing to chairs, saying, “Joey, you and Laura sit there. Brandon and Megan sit there. Nicky can squeeze in alongside. And yuh, that’s right Tyler, you sit with your mom and dad right there.”

Gramma went back to the kitchen for the gravy and sat her own self down, looking pretty satisfied with the spread. She said, “I’d like to say grace.” Most everyone bowed their head in preparation, except Nick, who had just been released from prison and hadn’t said anything like grace in several years.

Then they all commenced to eating, filling plates to brimming with all the wonderful food. Tyler was especially impressed, because no one suspected his hand in things.

Tyler’s dad said, “This is the most succulent turkey I’ve ever had.”

“Smashed potatoes,” young Brandon said. “With lots of gravy.” And he reached for the bowl of potatoes a third time.

Little Megan said, “I like the green bean casserole. It’s my favorite.”

Uncle Nick said, “They never made turkey taste like this in lock-up. And I ate a lot of turkey inside.”

Uncle Joey said, “Even the turnip seems tastier.”

Tyler could no longer hold his secret. He said, “That’s because I put sweetener in everything.”

Everyone at the table stopped moving as if someone had yelled freeze. Tyler shrank at all the curious looks he was getting.

Tyler’s mom asked, “What sweetener did you use, Tyler?”

Prompted by his nervousness and before he could get out that the sweetener’s name started with ‘I’, was, in fact, Ipecac, he instead uttered a single, “Urp.” Followed by two more.

Then, everything Tyler had eaten that day came up all at once in one long steaming stream of well chewed and half-digested puke. He didn’t have time to turn away, so it shot out across the table.

Everyone tried to push away from the table in disgust, but Uncle Joey only tipped back. He fell backward to the floor and began to retch a foul stream straight up like a geyser. It attained a height of three feet or more, before splashing down and nearly drowning him.

Gramma tried to hold it back, tried to control it, which didn’t work at all. Her spew sounded as though a knotted rope was being pulled out along with it. To her credit, she did manage to turn her head.

Uncle Nick finally got religion; he uttered an “Oh God” as he ralphed up his meal, some of which actually seemed to have ejected from his nose.

Megan took a cue from Brandon and aimed downward when their barfing started. Each of them nailed Gramma’s little poodle, Precious, with enough bile and brew to swamp the poor thing. It ran out from under the table and was finally found, hours later behind the couch, shuddering uncontrollably. Precious was never the same after that.

Within minutes, everyone at the table had participated in the hurl-fest; each prompted by the other and by the sweetener added to everything by young Tyler. For nearly a half hour, they wiped their faces and uttered little residual stomach spasms and drooled like lobotomized zombies.

Unlike most holiday gatherings in the family, that Thanksgiving Day meal wasn’t mentioned again for years. But it was never forgotten.

I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did assembling it. Leave a comment, tell your friends; tweet it, Facebook it, blog about it.

Most important though: Have a safe turkey day.


8 thoughts on “Thanksgiving at Gramma’s

  1. Helen

    I should have been going ewww but instead I found myself laughing out loud, it was very visual and somehow very funny. ^__^ I keep laughing every time I read this sentence:

    ‘but Uncle Joey only tipped back. He fell backward to the floor and began to retch a foul stream straight up like a geyser. It attained a height of three feet or more, before splashing down and nearly drowning him.’

    I bet they’re all thankful they survived!

  2. FARfetched

    I almost hurt myself containing my laughter! (sleeping grandbaby in the room with me) Some buttmunch did that to me in junior high, so I know the feeling.

    Hurl-fest! I’ll bet that was never forgotten, but when the kids grew up they probably had a big laugh about it.

  3. Deanna Schrayer

    Bahahahahaha! Just the thought, or mention, of retching makes me want to do so myself, but somehow your story has cured me of that. Maybe because I was too busy laughing to think about puking. 🙂

  4. John Wiswell

    This is my favorite of your audio stories yet. It helps that it’s a wacky tale, the absurdism in the homestead being quite welcome this time of year. The occasional voices for characters were distinct enough, and your husky-hush voice gives the humor a bit of a Keillor quality.


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