My first post here. I know its not thanksgiving, but this idea just randomly showed up and it was too good to pass up.
Bubbles was your average, spoilt fluffy. He had a great, big, snow-white poofy coat, and a caramel-colored mane. He had Sketti every Thursday, and mummah Sawah would give him “aiss cweam” every Sunday after they went to “chuwch”. Naturally, Bubbles was also a smarty. Like every smarty, he was very demanding with his mummah. His Sawah told him that this Thursday, they would not have sketti, but instead, have “tuwkey”, which was “twadition”, whatever that was.
“Bubbles, why not try something new? We have sketti every thursday ever since you were adopted last year!” Sarah was annoyed with her petulant baby, as she couldn’t stand to see her precious so upset.
“MUMMAH, WAN SKETTIS NAO!!!” screeched Bubbles.
“But Bubbles, mummah barely ever cooks for you, don’t you want a homecooked treat that mummah poured her heart and soul into?” Sarah cooed to her favorite darling.
Bubbles puffed his cheeks and screamed. “NO CAWE, WAN SKETTIES OW GIF SOWWY POOPIES AND WOWSTEST HUWTIES!!!”
Sarah was a single woman, who most of her exes would call a “pretentious bitch.” She, like single women at her ripe old age of 42, wanted kids, so she adopted a fluffy instead. She earned a pretty penny at her job, so having something to raise was sustainable for her. Sarah had been so busy with her high-end tech job, and her gossipy friends that lately she had barely any time to cook, something she enjoyed doing in her spare time, so she always bought some microwave sketti from her local grocery store, Saferoad. Her family and friends were coming to her 2 acre mansion for thanksgiving the next day, as well as her stupid little brother, who was in college. Her spice cabinet, ever so meticulously organized, was growing dust. Her ex had messed up the order by accident one time by putting salt to the right of pepper, instead of to the left, and she bitched him out for four hours straight, much to Bubbles’s amusement.
She needed to go to the grocery store by tonight, or else there would be no more turkey left. “How about Mummah cook BOTH for you then, darling?” she asked her little child.
“Otay, Mummah, maek bestes Sketties fow bestes Smawty.” Sarah began to prepare the sketti ahead of time for tomorrow, by beginning to handcraft her own sauce, passed to her by own grandmother. Juicy meatballs were stewing in the savory, tomatoey sauce laced with bay leaves and oregano. I’ll just leave this to stew and marinate while I go to the store, what could go wrong? She thought to herself…….
After Sarah hugged and kissed her precious “offspring” for the thirtieth time before going on her five minute trip to the store, she went out the door and locked it.Bubbles was an impatient little brat, as well as spiteful, and despite her mummah caving to his demands, he was furious she would still consider cooking “tuwkey.”
“Bubbews nu wan stoopi poopy tuwkey, stoopi mummah dummeh.” He pulled open the lower cabinet, and began knocking all the spices over, uncapping them and rolling in them. He found the brown sugar, and chewed the container open.
“Taste pwetty, wike aiss cweam!” He immediately rolled in it to smell pretty as well. By doing this though, he accidentally knocked open the salt, and got it in his mouth.
“EUGH!” He immediately stumbled into the rosemary and oregano, covering himself in it. Stumbling, he found himself sniffing at the sage and garlic powder, tasting it, and decided he hated it right then and there.
“STOOPI POWDAH!!! Take sowwy hoofies!” He knocked over the other spices, and with a massive poof of dust, it got all over him. What he didnt know was in the mixture, however, was the paprika and black pepper. It got into his eyes and nose, and it immediately started burny hurties and sneezies!!
“SCREEEEEEE!!! WOSTEST HUWTIES! POOPIE SPY-CEES CABBYNET!!!SCREEEEEEE!” Bubbles ran to his saferoom, to the water dish, washing out his eyes and nose.
Sarah was at the store, in the meat aisle. There were no turkeys left, so naturally, she had a screaming match with a wage slave. “WHERE ARE THE GODDAMN TURKEYS?! I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION. ITS ONLY WEDNESDAY!!!”
The poor employee shrugged his shoulders, and told her, “I’m sorry ma’am, if you’d like we can offer you a 20% off for your next visit?” Sarah was outraged at this proposal.
“WELL EXCUSE ME, BUT THAT IS SIMPLY UNNACCEPTABLE. I MUST TALK TO YOUR MANAGER, YOU INCOMPETENT SWINE!” The employee quickly scampered off to find his supervisor.
Bubbles wandered toward the stove, smelling the heavenly smell. Sarah had left her packages from early black Friday impulsive buys in a neat little stack by the counter near the kitchen stove, inadvertently making a stairway up to the counter. He was still coated in spices, and he decided he smelled pretty. His mummah was still at the store, and he wanted sketti NOW! His sheltered little mind did not understand what fire was, or what it did, and Sarah used a gas stove.
He bumbled onto the counter, grumbling about ‘dummy mummah nu giv Bubbews sketti nao’ and wandered over to the pot. “GIB SKETTI!, DUMMEH!!” he screamed at the meany black pot. The pot didn’t listen. He decided to give it another chance, benevolent soul he was, and screamed, “GIV SKETTI OR SOWWY HOOVSIES!”
Again, the meanie pot didnt listen. So, he made good on his threat, and knocked the pot with a clatter onto the floor, bumping into the firewood-oven door, opening it. He had also inadvertently fallen onto the flame. Naturally, with the oils and spices coating his fluff, it was more flammable than it usually was. At first, it didn’t reach his skin, only his fluff, scaring him.
“REEEEEEEEEEE.” He ran all over the counter, screeching and shitting like the shit propelled rocket he was meant to be. “REEEEEE!!! BUWNY MUNSTAH STAWPIT!!!” He pleaded for the flames to stop numbing at his tail, running around the kitchen.
At this point, he was out of excrement, and thus, ran around, farting, the methane causing the flames to grow ever brighter. It was at this moment he saw the oven, running into it, thinking it was a portal to “skettiland.” He dashed in, accidentally shoving the oven door closed. At this point, his fluff was already singed away, and he pleaded for mummah to come home as the kindling around him burst into flame. His juicy fat body sizzled and crackled…
Six hours later, Sarah returned home, frustrated that her thanksgiving would not go as planned. As a result of her frustration, she went out drinking and did some snow as well. Her parents would lecture her for sure on “not being prepared on time.” She slammed the door shut, and screamed, “BABY, I’m HOOOOOOOME!” She paused. No response. She smelled the air. Something smelled good.
She followed her nose to the kitchen, leading her to the smoldering shut oven, shit and piss-covered counters, and the ruined pot of sketti on the floor. Surely the turkey fairy didn’t leave a surprise in her kitchen tonight. She opened the door, to find……… Bubbles. Smoldering and croaking. She thought to her self…… “Oh well, desperate times call for desperate measures. At least ill have something to present for thanksgiving tomorrow.” She fanned down the flames, and shut the door, leaving Bubbles to cook in his own juices. Tomorrow would be a hit.
Special thanks to Ace for the proofread!