Kyle Broflosky remembers looking up what stuffing was in the 3rd grade. He can remember when his English teachers would assign writing assignments based on Thanksgiving. He remembers the embarrassment of staying after class and letting said teacher know that he can't participate in anything concerning 'secular' holidays like Thanksgiving. For future reference, Kyle explained to his teachers that he can't do religious holidays either, like Christmas. After hearing countless papers about his classmate's mom's homemade stuffing, usually stuffed in their turkey, Kyle gave into his curiosity and visited wikipedia.
Stuffing: mixture, usually a starch used to fill in a cavity of another food item. Ingredients are usually breadcrumbs or cubes, dried bread, onions, celery, salt, pepper, along with herbs.
Once Kyle entered high school, he found it best to give the teachers advance notice to avoid any awkward moments later on in class. His dad's side of the family follows strictly the Jewish calendar and nothing else. If there isn't that small font in the bottom right hand corner saying Hanukkah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, or any of the like, Kyle did not have the pleasure of celebrating.
Kyle doesn't mind not celebrating the "normal" holidays, a term Stan has coined throughout the years. His friends know by now not to expect any present from Kyle, making it best to return the favor. At this late point in his life, the cusp of his 18th year, Kyle has even trained himself to turn the other cheek to Cartman's insults that never seem to get old to only Cartman himself.
Usually on Thanksgiving Kyle is perfectly content with having a nice dinner with his family (Goulash, something to make them feel "thankful") and watching any non-Christmas or Thanksgiving movie they can find on cable. It's hard to escape the holidays, but Kyle still doesn't mind. The only thing that Kyle can't quite get enough of is hearing about stuffing. Kyle notices that girls refer to the dish as dressing rather than stuffing. Probably a weak attempt to make it seem like they aren't stuffing their faces on such a food-centered day.
Kyle even google image searches stuffing. The texture itself makes his mouth water. The golden brown color with hints of green from the celery only cement Kyle's thoughts that stuffing is the real show stopper of the meal. Anyone can cook a turkey in the oven, people do it on a daily basis. Stuffing, though, seems to be saved for this 'special' day of the year for the 95% of Americans that celebrate Thanksgiving.
It's like there's something that draws Kyle to stuffing. Most likely pure curiosity, but it's becoming borderline infatuation. Kyle found himself at a Denny's last year before dinner and a movie with the family drooling over their picture of their stuffing available on Thanksgiving. He almost gave in. The only thing that was stopping him was the fear that his first taste of stuffing would not be 'homemade'. Sure, a lot of restaurants boast homemade meals, but a restaurant chain like Dennys? There's no way.
If Kyle has written off restaurant-style stuffing, then why is he at Howie's Diner before picking up an extra dozen eggs his mom requested for their meal?
The bell attached to the door gives away Kyle's quiet intentions. Kyle and his family rarely visit Howie's. The only restaurant they visit on a regular basis is a Jewish diner in the strip mall that's only open 4 days of the week. He isn't sure why he chose to stop by Howie's, but the sign says "Homemade." He doesn't know if the adjective is describing the sign itself, or the food. He hopes for the food and makes a hard right into the parking lot.
Kyle isn't sure the protocol of Howie's, so he isn't sure he should be offended when there is no immediate greeting or even acknowledgement of his presence. He reaches a sign at the register that says in small block letters, "Short Staffed—please seat yourself." He surveys the room to find not a single customer. He thinks he caught a glimpse of a worker, but that was it as far as any company Kyle shares.
The seats at the bar seem promising. Close to the exit, register, and, more importantly, the best view of the kitchen. Kyle likes to see his food being prepared. It's a safety thing.
Kyle takes a seat and thinks about shouting out to whoever is making the noise in the kitchen. He wonders what the worker could possibly be busying themselves with, with no customers and all. Pulling the menu from the salt and pepper holder he sees their "Thanksgiving Menu" placed, loose-leaf style in the menu. It's a simple print-out, "Thanksgiving Meal: Turkey, mashed potatoes, green-bean casserole, and homemade stuffing, all for $5.99, Our Thanks to You!"
Kyle sets down the menu and is met with what he assumes is the only other person in the restaurant.
"Craig?"
"Hey Broflosky, what're you having." Craig's apron is white. His shirt underneath is white. From what Kyle can see, his pants are white as well. Instead of his usual blue and yellow beanie, that too, has changed to a white colored one. He doesn't seem thrilled nor perturbed. Not much for the imagination.
"Uhm, I'm not sure yet. Maybe just a coffee." Kyle feels weird. He hardly has any interaction with Craig Tucker since classes have become so defined to their subject. Kyle knows Craig spends a lot of his time in the art labs, mostly drawing he assumes, but that's only from the small drawings Kenny's pockets leak sometimes when he carelessly throws his jacket around. Kyle can be found in the physics hall. The two share lunch together, but Kyle is not one to say "hey" to a less than friendly person that last Kyle has heard, still feels he is owed a Benjamin from Kyle and his friends.
"You know Harbucks is open, too. Tweek is working." Craig says giving Kyle the feeling he is no longer welcome at Howie's. Not really the tone, more the words said. Before any thought Kyle sees a cup of coffee set in front of him with a sugar cube and creamer placed on the spoon. Craig pulls a stool around the counter and sits in front of Kyle as if the two planned to meet for coffee.
Kyle is not a public speaker. Public is technically defined as ordinary people as a whole, a community. For some reason, Kyle sees Craig much more intimidating than his 8th grade graduation speech that was literally in front of the community of South Park.
"Good choice, you don't want to try our food. Our coffee is better than Harbucks, though. Just don't tell Tweek I said that." Kyle thinks he hears a small chuckle leave Craig's mouth, but Kyle has nothing to compare this new noise to.
"Don't have a voice?" Kyle notices that Craig is giving him a look. On the surface, the look looks no different than Craig's normal expression, but Kyle feels his eyes give a little more than the rest of his face.
He clears his throat, "No, I'm sorry, I do. I just—" He isn't sure what he is, time to redirect the topic, "why are you working on Thanksgiving?"
"Eh, not a fan of holidays, really." Craig pours himself a cup of coffee from the thermos he gave Kyle a few minutes ago. "I would ask you, but we all know you don't celebrate thanksgiving thanks to Cartman's fat mouth."
"Yeah…" Kyle stirs in his sugar cube. Thinking back now, Kyle doesn't remember hearing Craig's paper assignments about the holiday's or even small talk amongst the class.
The two share silence until he hears a timer from a stove go off in the kitchen. "Making your dinner?" Kyle muses, gaining the confidence to navigate small talk with the dark haired boy.
"Always have to be prepared, you know." Craig yells back from the kitchen. "I am going to eat though, if you don't mind." Kyle motions at the counter in front of him, giving Craig full control of what he plans to put on the counter. The smell is amazing, but that might be Kyle's empty stomach imagining things.
"Let me know if you want something else, don't mind me, looks like you're here for a quiet moment and all." Craig brings up his plate filled with only one side item. Kyle's mouth drops, mostly due to the weight his accumulating drool adds. Craig this time is seats himself a chair down from Kyle on the customer side of the bar. There is a small TV hung at the top of the bar, placed on mute, not to compete with the mandatory Christmas music blaring from Howie's radio system. Craig is oblivious to the fixated gaze Kyle is having trouble hiding.
It's hard enough for Kyle not to notice Craig's attractive demeanor. White is definitely Craig's color. Kyle remembers hearing black is supposed to be slimming. He can only assume that white will do the opposite to a person. If that's the case, Kyle isn't sure he could handle seeing Craig in all black. His drool might double.
Craig's neck is slouched, but his head is still lifted and focused at the TV screen. His right arm bent; forearm resting between himself and his plate on the counter. Kyle watches as Craig pokes his fork into his meal with his left hand, fork lazily finding its way to his mouth, and silently chew his bite.
"I'm—I'm sorry, but is that—" Kyle scoots into the seat next to Craig, not sure which is more enticing, the meal or Craig.
Craig stops staring at the screen and is now watching Kyle. He sets his fork down and squares up to the red-head.
"This?" Craig points at his plate. "Stuffing?"
"Yeah, S-Stuffing." Kyle feels naughty even saying the word. "Did you make that!?" The plate has steam floating off of it, only making Kyle assume this was the fresh dish out from the oven.
"Yep, had to make another turkey, with turkey comes stuffing. Stuffing is the best part though." Kyle watches Craig take a few more bites. "My own recipe."
Kyle feels as though he is watching some naughty stuffing porn. He honestly cannot take his eyes off the dish. The bread cubes are browned, yet still hold the equal quadrilateral shape. Almost as if enough care was taken to properly caramelize each cube with a torch. That caramel color with hints of that lime green celery color is the perfect combination that Kyle can say he's dreamt of. The pepper is perfectly peppered in a way that gives the adjective 'peppered' justice.
Kyle swallows hard. "C-can I just try a bite?"
Craig keeps his gaze on Kyle for a moment. The action of the fork nearly scared Kyle out of his pants. "Craig, I'm sorry, I know that was a weird question and further more I know you're smart enough to know you know I was basically eye-fucking your stuffing. That's really inappropriate so I'll just take my check now and—"
Craig holds a hand up, "quiet. I'm trying to find the perfect bite."
Kyle watches as Craig picks cubes at what seems like random, but something tells Kyle that Craig has a method. Once the fork is filled with tiny bread cubes and little bits of celery, Craig squares up to Kyle again.
"Close your eyes."
Kyle obeys.
Kyle's mouth is welcomed with the warm, slightly mushy with a hint of crunchy, yet powerfully flavorful bite that was handpicked by Craig Tucker.
Kyle feels so wrong, but so right chewing his sacred bite. He feels himself smile, reel his head back, and moan. He lets out a small, "Fuck, this is good."
He almost forgets he isn't alone until Craig's voice interrupts, "Fuck yeah, it is."
Weird thoughts weird thoughts. Sorry if this is an inaccurate portrayal of Jewish celebration tactics or stuffing.