The Twelve Hours of Thanksgiving (A Holiday Song)

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The holidays are a time for celebrating the ones you love and prioritizing those closest to you over silly materialistic goods. This Thanksgiving I did exactly that, by spending as little time as physically possible at home because, ya know... college football. But someone once told me quality over quantity, or something along those lines, as long as it still works as an excuse in my situation. So here's a holiday song I wrote all by myself to kick off the cheer of the holiday season, starting with Thanksgiving.

On the 1st hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family will gave to me...

a cowardly dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 2nd hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

two fucked up pies and a cowardly dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 3rd hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies and a cowardly dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 4th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a cowardly dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 5th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a cowardly dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 6th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

six glasses of wine, five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a cowardly dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 7th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

seven shitty jazz albums, six glasses of wine, five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a cowardly dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 8th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

eight episodes of Kroll Show, seven shitty jazz albums, six glasses of wine, five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 9th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

nine "I'm concerned about your eating habits," eight episodes of Kroll Show, seven shitty jazz albums, six glasses of wine, five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 10th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

ten hours of traveling, nine "I'm concerned about your eating habits," eight episodes of Kroll Show, seven shitty jazz albums, six glasses of wine, five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 11th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

eleven minutes of napping in a dog bed, ten hours of traveling, nine "I'm concerned about your eating habits," eight episodes of Kroll Show, seven shitty jazz albums, six glasses of wine, five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

On the 12th hour of Thanksgiving my psychotic family gave to me...

twelve questions about my life plan, eleven minutes of napping in a dog bed, ten hours of traveling, nine "I'm concerned about your eating habits," eight episodes of Kroll Show, seven shitty jazz albums, six glasses of wine, five "you're in my way"s, four servings of mashed potatoes, three tablespoons of whipped cream for 7 people, two fucked up pies, and a dog who won't leave the pantry for social interaction.

Happy Holidays, everyone, and remember: don't help out with the holiday cooking if you stay out till 4 am the night before and wakeup drunk. You'll probably fuck up 3 dishes and get kicked out of the kitchen, or so it has been explained to me.