Sparkler Snapshots

XXXIV | Cold Turkey

"I celebrated Thanksgiving the old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land." — Jon Stewart

Date:
October 9th, 2017 (CAN)
November 23rd, 2017 (USA)

Occasion: Thanksgiving

Countries: United States, Canada

Hint: Read the first letter of each paragraph downwards.

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XXXIV | Cold Turkey

Hundreds of bright green peas hit the kitchen floor and scattered, as though they were repelled from each other. Jenny heaved a sigh and bent down, gathering them up in her cupped hands. It was the second time she'd spilled a food in the past hour. No one had warned her that cooking a Thanksgiving dinner would be so hard, and certainly no one had told her that peas were so rebellious, those stupid, round bastards. Her brother, Corbyn, who was slicing carrots with gusto, clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip to contain a snicker. "You alright there?"

"Awesome. Wonderful. Fabulous," Jenny retorted, straightening up after picking up the last of the peas. She exchanged a devious smirk with Corbyn and glanced back at their mother, who was deep in a phone conversation, a glass of red wine in hand. Jenny dumped the peas in a nearby bowl and quickly rinsed them, before darting to the fridge and nicking a bottle of vodka. When she sped back to the kitchen, Corbyn had two glasses waiting on the counter. Jenny unscrewed the bottle lid and clumsily poured the alcohol into both glasses until they were filled to the brim.

Placing the lid back on the bottle and screwing it shut, Jenny stashed it back in the fridge. "Do you think she's going to notice?" Corbyn asked, taking a sip of the alcohol. Jenny inspected her own glass from various angles before shaking her head. The drink looked identical to water, and even if their parents did guess the truth, they'd probably let their kids off, since it was Thanksgiving. They'd be too busy talking about how thankful they are for Jenny and Corbyn, even though the twins had caused them nothing but trouble for the past eighteen years.

"Pretend you filled your glass with tap water," Jenny instructed Corbyn, returning to her peas. The latter flicked the tap on, brought his glass near the water, before flicking the tap off, just as their mother appeared in the kitchen, cheeks dusted with a hint of red from her wine. Though she had alcohol in her system, her eyes flickered suspiciously from Jenny to Corbyn and back again. The twins both held her eye contact with casual grace, having been under her scrutiny many times before. Even if their mom did realize they were illegally drinking, she ended up not saying anything about it.

"You two should get a move on with those peas," their mother commented, brushing past them to gather ingredients for her pumpkin pie. Corbyn and Jenny simply exchanged another look and took a sip from their glasses at the same time. Once the sugar and flour were lined neatly on the counter, their mom began the search for the pumpkin puree, opening doors here and there. She'd been searching for almost two minutes before stopping short, turning to Corbyn with an outstretched palm. The latter raised an impressed eyebrow, before revealing the pumpkin puree can he was hiding behind his back, and dropped it in her hand. "Corbyn, go do something useful and turn on the TV," sighed their mother, too familiar with their antics to tell them off.