“Monday’s the day they’re giving flu shots at work,” he says to Mother as he caps the last one. “Once I swap these with the real serum bottles, I’ll be able to sell the vaccine on the Net and make enough money for us to catch Van Morrison in Vegas on New Year’s Eve.”
“What about the Elton John / Billy Joel tour?” asks Mother as she mixes her traditional Thanksgiving day punch consisting of gin and Everclear. “Do we have enough cash, or will the kids have to pose as street corner Santas again?”
Father’s answer is interrupted when the twins suddenly rush in from the bathroom. “Can we see Tesla in San Diego on December 7th?” they ask breathlessly.
“Sure,” answers Father. “But remember what I told you about going to San Diego.”
“A trip to San Diego isn’t complete without visiting Tijuana,” they answer simultaneously. “Because the drinking age is only 18, and they sell antibiotics over the counter.”
Father smiles to himself with the satisfaction of a man who knows he’s taught his children well. “Oh, look at the time,” exclaims Mother as she drops a new date for Beck into the punch. “We’re late for the dot-com soup kitchen.”
One hour later the family is serving turkey dinners to the poor unfortunates who, due to plunging Net stocks, have been turned out on the streets and forced to drive mid-priced cars. “I’ll give you our peer-to-peer file-sharing technology if you give me an extra slice of white meat,” says one hungry ex-CEO. “Then you’ll be able to trade songs by Squirrel Nut Zippers and Lenny Kravitz anytime you like.”
“Move along,” answers an obviously unimpressed Missy. “You Scour.com boys are all alike.”
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen Junior distracts the cook with the dates for P.O.D. while Father rifles the donation box. Mother reminds Father that it’s a holiday, and that he should at least leave some change in the box. “The best part of Thanksgiving is ‘giving,'” answers Father. And the people who left this money were very giving indeed.”
Dinnertime finds the family back at home, sitting down to the dining room table for their own holiday feast. “I have a surprise for all of you,” says Father as he sets the turkey that he smuggled out of the soup kitchen on the table. “My inflated sales figures fooled my boss into giving me a bigger Christmas bonus. We’re going to see Green Day in Milwaukee next year!”
“Can we tour the breweries while we’re in Milwaukee?” asks Mother as she absentmindedly tears the label off of her gin bottle.
“That depends,” replies Father. “It all comes down to whether or not they remember you from last time.”
“Last time?” asks Junior. “I never knew you and Father visited Milwaukee before.”
“We spent our honeymoon at the Miller Brewery,” says Mother as she fondly recalls passing out next to a vat of Genuine Draft wearing nothing but a Doobie Brothers T-shirt and Dr. John warm-up sweats. “I had the restraining order bronzed and placed alongside both yours and Missy’s baby shoes.”
Father stops the twins before they dive into the meal set before them. “Don’t forget to say grace,” Father reminds Missy.
“Thank you for Tijuana,” says Junior.
“And dirty gin,” adds Mother.
“Amen to that,” says Father. “Let’s eat!”