A/N: You'll forgive me if this is all way too late, right? I mean, Christmas is over and I haven't even finished this Thanksgiving story... ::sigh:: Anyway, if you guys were wondering, for 'Inspirations,' I'm operating on the timeline suggested by Eriks: in short, the Ducks are in eighth grade or thereabouts during the first movie, and only one year passes between movies (years passed are 1992-1994). This is different from 'Spirals,' which follows the movie release dates, putting two years between the movies (trilogy spans 1992-1996). Now that you are all certifiably confused, enjoy the chapter.
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Inspirations: Green jello / A pathalogical fear of window envelopes / Lime green underwear
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"Giving, Part Three"
"Why don't we go around the table and say what we're thankful for?" Mrs. Hall suggested cheerfully. The question was met by an exaggerated eye-roll from Mr. Hall and groans from Terry and Jesse. She ignored them gracefully, announcing, "Well, I'll start then. I'm thankful that my family is here and that we are all healthy..." her eyes shifted to her husband, and some dark emotion passed over her smiling features for a moment before she finished, "and happy."
While Terry's friends were oblivious, neither Mr. Hall nor Jesse, Fulton, and Terry missed the sarcasm in Mrs. Hall's last words. Terry blushed and suddenly became amazingly focused on smoothing his napkin over his lap. Jesse scowled down at his plate. Mr. Hall grumbled out,
"Yes, and I'm thankful that you cooked the meal for us, Marilyn." A tense smile crept onto his face. "It's as nice as last year's."
Marilyn Hall's jaw clenched slightly as she nodded in acknowledgement. "Terry? You go next."
"Um?" Terry blinked, classic deer-in-the-headlights mentality taking hold of him. "I'm thankful for...for...hockey."
"Hockey?" His mother repeated sweetly, too sweetly. Terry added quickly,
"Yeah, and...and the friends I made playing hockey this year." This amendment met with Mrs. Hall's approval, and Terry was off the hook. Terry immediately passed the buck to Marcus, hoping to break the rapidly mounting tension.
"Oh, I'm thankful that my grandmother is getting better." Marcus informed them. "She had a stroke about six months ago, but she's okay now." And a small break was taken as everyone expressed relief that this old woman that hardly any of them knew was not dead.
Josh went next, saying, "I'm thankful it wasn't snowing today," and shot a nasty, accusing look at Jesse and Fulton.
Fulton smiled at him innocently, getting a warning kick from Jesse, who mouthed, 'No evil plotting!' Fulton lifted an eyebrow as if to ask, 'Who, me?' and took a sip from his water glass.
Jesse said, "I'm thankful that the Ducks are all in the same school district, and that we'll be staying together until we get out of high school."
Sammy told them that he was thankful for his dad's medical discharge from the Army. "Now we won't be moving around so much," he explained, beaming with delight, "and I can stay in the same school as /my/ friends, too."
Fulton felt all eyes turn to him, and he ducked his head. "I'm, um, thankful that I could share Thanksgiving with all of you," he mumbled in the general direction of the tablecloth. Mrs. Hall smiled.
"We're glad to have you, Fulton."
"Let's eat!" Jesse said, diverting attention from Fulton. He knew that Mr. Reed had been invited by his rich brother to go skiing--just the four of them, Fulton's parents and aunt and uncle--at Sun Valley in Idaho. If he hadn't invited Fulton to dinner and a sleepover, the young teen would have been heating up a TV dinner and watching another one of those sitcom marathons.
The dishes were passed around: sliced turkey, mashed potatoes, slightly lumpy brown gravy, stuffing that Fulton immediately recognized as Stove-Top, and Jell-O. "There were absolutely /no more/ cans of cranberry sauce at the supermarket," Mrs. Hall explained apologetically.
"That's okay, Mrs. Hall," Marcus replied, "We like Jell-O."
Fulton whispered to Jesse, "It's almost the same color as your lime-green underwear," and got another kick from him in response.
****
"Something else I'm thankful for..." Terry muttered after dinner, when the parents were busy clearing the table and doing the dishes, "No mail on Thanksgiving. No bills."
"Terry has a pathological fear of window envelopes," Jesse told Fulton solemnly.
"Well, so would he if his parents always fought over the phone bill, the credit card bill, the heating bill, the electrical bill, the water bill..."
Fulton held up a hand to forestall any more examples from Terry. "I get the picture. And believe me, there's some bitter bickering over the credit cards among the Reeds...as much as among the Halls, Terr."
Terry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, let's hope that no bitter bickering starts up today. Did you catch the looks Ma was throwing at Dad?"
"Terry, shut up." Jesse grumbled sullenly. "I don't think Fulton's very interested in our little soap opera."
"Soap opera?" Fulton repeated.
"Yeah, 'As the Lamps Are Thrown'." Terry cracked, only to get smacked in the head by his brother. "Ow! Well, forget you, too, Jess. Go ahead and sulk; I'm out." And he stomped back to where his friends were lounging on the sofas.
Jesse sneered at his brother's back and leaned against the banister, refusing to look at Fulton.
"Drama queen," Fulton deadpanned.
"What? You did /not/ just..."
Fulton cut him off before he could start ranting. "Oh, stop it, Jess. Everybody's parents get upset over the bills--except maybe rich bastards like my cousins, but that's life."
"Bet /your/ folks never threaten each other with divorce." Jesse snapped back.
"No, but lamps /are/ a frequent weapon of choice for my mom." Fulton smiled, and Jesse reluctantly smiled back. "You and Terry have that old TV and Nintendo in your room with the 'Duck Hunt' game. Let's go shoot things, it'll make you feel better."
"I'd rather shoot that stupid dog..." Jesse muttered.
"You too?"
****
"Aahh! Goddammit!" Fulton yelled at the cartoon hound snickering at him. His arm swung to aim the plastic gun at the dog and shot the little image about five times. It did no good, of course, but satisfied his outrage. "Muttley wannabe."
"You /sure/ that you don't want to play Mario?" Jesse teased. Fulton restarted the game and snapped,
"Yes, I'm sure! I just want to kill," a duck went down, "that stupid," two more spun out, "dog!" And three more ducks were taken out in quick succession.
"Okay, okay. He is the most annoying video game character ever," Jesse conceded. "My turn next."
****
"I hate you!" Jesse shouted at the video game, whacking the TV with the plastic gun. Fulton fell off the bed, overcome by giggles.
"Tetris?" he suggested.
Jesse turned to him, eyes narrowed and breathing heavy. "Tetris." he agreed.
END PART THREE
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Inspirations: Green jello / A pathalogical fear of window envelopes / Lime green underwear
****
"Giving, Part Three"
"Why don't we go around the table and say what we're thankful for?" Mrs. Hall suggested cheerfully. The question was met by an exaggerated eye-roll from Mr. Hall and groans from Terry and Jesse. She ignored them gracefully, announcing, "Well, I'll start then. I'm thankful that my family is here and that we are all healthy..." her eyes shifted to her husband, and some dark emotion passed over her smiling features for a moment before she finished, "and happy."
While Terry's friends were oblivious, neither Mr. Hall nor Jesse, Fulton, and Terry missed the sarcasm in Mrs. Hall's last words. Terry blushed and suddenly became amazingly focused on smoothing his napkin over his lap. Jesse scowled down at his plate. Mr. Hall grumbled out,
"Yes, and I'm thankful that you cooked the meal for us, Marilyn." A tense smile crept onto his face. "It's as nice as last year's."
Marilyn Hall's jaw clenched slightly as she nodded in acknowledgement. "Terry? You go next."
"Um?" Terry blinked, classic deer-in-the-headlights mentality taking hold of him. "I'm thankful for...for...hockey."
"Hockey?" His mother repeated sweetly, too sweetly. Terry added quickly,
"Yeah, and...and the friends I made playing hockey this year." This amendment met with Mrs. Hall's approval, and Terry was off the hook. Terry immediately passed the buck to Marcus, hoping to break the rapidly mounting tension.
"Oh, I'm thankful that my grandmother is getting better." Marcus informed them. "She had a stroke about six months ago, but she's okay now." And a small break was taken as everyone expressed relief that this old woman that hardly any of them knew was not dead.
Josh went next, saying, "I'm thankful it wasn't snowing today," and shot a nasty, accusing look at Jesse and Fulton.
Fulton smiled at him innocently, getting a warning kick from Jesse, who mouthed, 'No evil plotting!' Fulton lifted an eyebrow as if to ask, 'Who, me?' and took a sip from his water glass.
Jesse said, "I'm thankful that the Ducks are all in the same school district, and that we'll be staying together until we get out of high school."
Sammy told them that he was thankful for his dad's medical discharge from the Army. "Now we won't be moving around so much," he explained, beaming with delight, "and I can stay in the same school as /my/ friends, too."
Fulton felt all eyes turn to him, and he ducked his head. "I'm, um, thankful that I could share Thanksgiving with all of you," he mumbled in the general direction of the tablecloth. Mrs. Hall smiled.
"We're glad to have you, Fulton."
"Let's eat!" Jesse said, diverting attention from Fulton. He knew that Mr. Reed had been invited by his rich brother to go skiing--just the four of them, Fulton's parents and aunt and uncle--at Sun Valley in Idaho. If he hadn't invited Fulton to dinner and a sleepover, the young teen would have been heating up a TV dinner and watching another one of those sitcom marathons.
The dishes were passed around: sliced turkey, mashed potatoes, slightly lumpy brown gravy, stuffing that Fulton immediately recognized as Stove-Top, and Jell-O. "There were absolutely /no more/ cans of cranberry sauce at the supermarket," Mrs. Hall explained apologetically.
"That's okay, Mrs. Hall," Marcus replied, "We like Jell-O."
Fulton whispered to Jesse, "It's almost the same color as your lime-green underwear," and got another kick from him in response.
****
"Something else I'm thankful for..." Terry muttered after dinner, when the parents were busy clearing the table and doing the dishes, "No mail on Thanksgiving. No bills."
"Terry has a pathological fear of window envelopes," Jesse told Fulton solemnly.
"Well, so would he if his parents always fought over the phone bill, the credit card bill, the heating bill, the electrical bill, the water bill..."
Fulton held up a hand to forestall any more examples from Terry. "I get the picture. And believe me, there's some bitter bickering over the credit cards among the Reeds...as much as among the Halls, Terr."
Terry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, let's hope that no bitter bickering starts up today. Did you catch the looks Ma was throwing at Dad?"
"Terry, shut up." Jesse grumbled sullenly. "I don't think Fulton's very interested in our little soap opera."
"Soap opera?" Fulton repeated.
"Yeah, 'As the Lamps Are Thrown'." Terry cracked, only to get smacked in the head by his brother. "Ow! Well, forget you, too, Jess. Go ahead and sulk; I'm out." And he stomped back to where his friends were lounging on the sofas.
Jesse sneered at his brother's back and leaned against the banister, refusing to look at Fulton.
"Drama queen," Fulton deadpanned.
"What? You did /not/ just..."
Fulton cut him off before he could start ranting. "Oh, stop it, Jess. Everybody's parents get upset over the bills--except maybe rich bastards like my cousins, but that's life."
"Bet /your/ folks never threaten each other with divorce." Jesse snapped back.
"No, but lamps /are/ a frequent weapon of choice for my mom." Fulton smiled, and Jesse reluctantly smiled back. "You and Terry have that old TV and Nintendo in your room with the 'Duck Hunt' game. Let's go shoot things, it'll make you feel better."
"I'd rather shoot that stupid dog..." Jesse muttered.
"You too?"
****
"Aahh! Goddammit!" Fulton yelled at the cartoon hound snickering at him. His arm swung to aim the plastic gun at the dog and shot the little image about five times. It did no good, of course, but satisfied his outrage. "Muttley wannabe."
"You /sure/ that you don't want to play Mario?" Jesse teased. Fulton restarted the game and snapped,
"Yes, I'm sure! I just want to kill," a duck went down, "that stupid," two more spun out, "dog!" And three more ducks were taken out in quick succession.
"Okay, okay. He is the most annoying video game character ever," Jesse conceded. "My turn next."
****
"I hate you!" Jesse shouted at the video game, whacking the TV with the plastic gun. Fulton fell off the bed, overcome by giggles.
"Tetris?" he suggested.
Jesse turned to him, eyes narrowed and breathing heavy. "Tetris." he agreed.
END PART THREE