Crossword
"-And after we run out of gas on the side of this abandoned road, we'll be forced to hitchhike the rest of the way back to Seattle, where we'll probably be murdered by a suspicious truck driver. Our bodies will never be found, no one will ever figure out what happened to us, and our faces will wind up on that bulletin board at the post office for the next fifty years. All because you didn't listen to my directions."
"You done?" Sam asked, rolling her eyes as she continued to drive.
"I think so, yes," Freddie nodded. "I've made my point."
"Baby, for the millionth time, we're not lost," Sam said. "This is a shortcut."
"A shortcut is supposed to be short!" Freddie snapped. "We've been taking this 'shortcut' for the past six hours! We could've been back to Seattle by now if you just listened to me!"
"Can you shut up already?" Sam said. "It's your fault we had to drive all the way to Canada the day before Thanksgiving anyway."
"How is it my fault?" Freddie demanded.
"Because you're the one who told Spencer and Carly we'd go pick up their granddad from Montreal!" Sam exclaimed. "Which turned into a huge waste of time because that old scutter decided to fly out instead."
"Well I thought it would be fun for us to take a little road trip!" Freddie defended.
"Oh yeah, Freddie, this is real fun," Sam spat. "We're lost in the middle of nowhere and probably won't even make it back home for Thanksgiving at all!"
"Ah-ha! So we are lost!"
"Yes we're lost!" Sam snapped. "Just…try to pull up the GPS on your phone again."
"I can't; I already told you that I don't get signal out here," Freddie said.
"Well try again!" Sam said. "We have no idea where we are, I'm hungry and tired, which you know isn't a good mix, and-"
"Hey, look right there!" Freddie said, pointing to a sign on the side of the road. "There's a motel a few miles up."
"So?"
"So…it's late, and I think we both need to get out of this car and stretch our legs and cool off," Freddie said. "And since it's clear we're not going to be getting back to Seattle tonight, we might as well stop off there."
"Fine," Sam conceded. "As long as there's food, I'm good."
About ten minutes later, the couple pulled into the parking lot a worn-down looking motel.
"This place looks like it'd be on some news special," Freddie frowned. "You know, one of those things where they show how dirty motel rooms really are."
"You're the one who wanted to stop here!" Sam said. "And we don't have a choice, anyway. The car's almost on empty. Hopefully someone here can tell us where the closest gas station is…"
"Let's hope so," Freddie sighed.
The two got out of the car and headed into the entrance of the motel. There was a single man behind the front desk, lazily working on a crossword puzzle with one hand as he scratched his protruding stomach with his other.
"Er, hi there," Freddie said, clearing his throat.
The man looked up. "What?"
"We-We'd like a room," Freddie said.
The man gave him a strange look. "Here?"
"This is a motel, isn't it?" Freddie frowned.
"Well sure, just nobody ever chooses to stay in this old dump," the man chuckled, heaving himself to his feet. "It's kind of disgusting."
"Great…" Freddie mumbled.
"Well we don't have a choice, so just give us a room, will you?" Sam said.
"Alright, alright, you can have room 125," the man said, tossing Freddie a key. "Now, just a few things you need to know. The water in the bathroom sometimes comes out brown. What you're gonna want to do is let it run for five seconds, pound the wall above the faucet, switch to cold water for another ten seconds, and then you'll be good. If someone knocks at your door…don't answer. And if you're squeamish about bugs…you're going to have to get over that."
"Lovely," Freddie said, rolling his eyes. "One other thing. We're on our way back to Seattle, and I was hoping you could tell us how far away we are."
"Seattle huh?" the man said. "That's in California, right?"
"Uh, no, Washington," Freddie corrected.
"Oh…well I'd say you're pretty far off,' the man said. "Considering this is Wyoming."
"Wyoming?" Sam repeated. "We're in the most forgotten state in the country? How!"
"You must've taken us in the opposite direction when you turned around at that truck stop!" Freddie moaned. "Great…now we're going to have to wake up at the crack of dawn to start driving home if we even want to try to get back for Thanksgiving."
"I wouldn't count on that," the man snickered. "There's a huge snowstorm coming through here tonight. Roads are supposed to be blocked off. That's what my sister's psychic told her, at least."
"Yeah, we'll take our chances," Freddie said.
The two headed to their room, which was just as disgusting at the man at the desk had made it seem. There was a single, stain-covered bed, a musty lamp, and an old box of Fiber O's that had a questionable odor coming from them.
"Okay, this place is gross, even by my standards," Sam cringed. "I don't think this motel even has a cleaning service."
"I've never been so thankful for the pocket sanitizer my mom gave me," Freddie said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a mini spray bottle.
"I'm guessing room service is out of the question," Sam said as Freddie began to spray the bed.
"I guess so," Freddie sighed. "But I saw a pizza place across the street. And we have some snacks in the car…I know it's not what you had in mind-"
"Hey, at this point, food is food," Sam said. She looked down at her feet. "Um, sorry I got us lost. I guess I should've just listened to your directions…"
"Yeah, well, I guess I could've been more help getting us back on track earlier instead of just complaining," Freddie said. "So…let's just forget about this whole thing. Tomorrow morning we'll get up, drive straight through to Seattle, and be back home for Thanksgiving dinner. Sound like a plan?"
"Alright," Sam agreed. "Not like there's anything else we can do."
…..
The next morning, just as Freddie had planned, him and Sam awoke at five in the morning, prepared to start their long drive back to Seattle. When they opened up their motel door, though, they found their surroundings entirely covered with a thick blanket of snow.
"Whoa, there must be at least a foot of snow," Freddie frowned, looking around.
"Holy chiz, the psychic was right…" Sam said.
"No, she just watched the weather channel," Freddie said, rolling his eyes.
"Well can we get home still?" Sam asked anxiously.
Freddie glanced over at their car, which was covered in snow.
"I doubt it," Freddie said heavily. "We can't move until this parking lot gets cleared out. And I doubt this place has priority for that."
"You mean we're stuck here?" Sam moaned. "On Thanksgiving?"
"I-I think so," Freddie nodded. "I'm sorry baby."
"It's not your fault," Sam said miserably.
"Come on, let's get out of the cold," Freddie said, putting a comforting arm around her.
"Guess this will be yours worst Thanksgiving yet, huh?" Sam said as Freddie shut the door behind them.
"Eh, to tell you the truth, I've never really had too many good Thanksgivings to begin with," Freddie replied. "Its never been my favorite holiday."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I mean, it's just me and my mom," Freddie said. "And she was going to be at work this year anyway. But normally she'd make all these low-fat versions of Thanksgiving dishes, like tofu turkey and mashed squash, and then spend the rest of the day making me knit Christmas sweaters with her."
"You never watched the parade or had your whole family over?" Sam asked.
"You know how my mom feels about parades," Freddie said. "She calls them disorganized marching bands. And everybody else in my family prefers to eat real food, so…"
"Ah," Sam chuckled. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Thanksgiving is never really a big thing in my family either."
"How come?"
"Well, half of them are always locked up," Sam explained. "So there's that. Plus my mom's always more excited about Black Friday anyway, so she spends the entire day camped outside of whichever store's manager she's dating that week. I usually just spend the day in my pajamas eating soup out of the can."
"So…none of us have really had a real Thanksgiving then, huh?" Freddie said.
"Guess not," Sam said. "
"Hmm," Freddie said thoughtfully. "Well, um, since it doesn't look like we're getting out of here, how about we have our own Thanksgiving?"
"In here?" Sam frowned.
"Sure, why not?" Freddie said, picking up a leftover pizza box from the previous night. "Let's see, I know we wont' be able to have turkey and stuffing and all, but we do have half a Meat Slam pizza, five cans of peppy cola, a bag of Cheese Rings, and for desert…Fat Cakes. How's that grab you?"
"Sounds like a real Thanksgiving feast," Sam laughed.
"We can play games too," Freddie continued. "Like, um, Guess That Stain and we can race to see who can get the water to turn clear the fastest."
"Oh, can we go out into the parking lot and have a snowball fight too?" Sam asked eagerly.
"Sure!" Freddie grinned. "We can do whatever we want."
"Alright!" Sam beamed excitedly. "Hey, this is gonna be our best Thanksgiving yet! Hey…I just realized…it's also our first Thanksgiving together."
"Hey, you're right," Freddie nodded. "Maybe that's why this one already feels ten times better than any other one."
"Maybe," Sam agreed. She picked up two cans of Peppy Cola and tossed one to Freddie. They popped the tabs.
"To our first Thanksgiving!" Sam said, raising her can.
"Our first of many," Freddie smiled as the two toasted. "Happy Thanksgiving, Sam."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Freddie."
