The past two days were bittersweet. Bitter because I missed Thanksgiving with my family, yet sweet because there was no chance of me being trampled to death inside of Wal-Mart the next day. Which is not to say there was no chance of me being trampled that day, period. Making our way through the dark after the school’s belated Thanksgiving potluck last night, we encountered a herd of cows acting like they owned the road. I didn’t like the way they looked at me and was in middle of explaining to the nearest one that she belonged on my plate when we heard a snort. And not just any old snort. The Snort of Death. The snort of a red-eyed, fire-breathing demon. We looked down a side street and saw a huge black bull, standing in the dim glow of a streetlamp and staring us down. SNORTING. STAMPING. LIKE IN CARTOONS. My life flashed before my eyes. But, we came out of it unscathed, unless you count the holes he burned in our backs as we hurried past. I like to think that I escaped death last night.
The potluck was alright. We poured our hearts into a delicious sweet potato casserole only to be line-jumped by a dozen people who didn’t even bring so much as a can of cranberry jelly. But the highlight of the night was when Jon was reproached by a stranger who had finally reviewed her photos from the talent show last week and discovered him photobombing one of them. THAT’S WHAT YOU GET when you continually blind everyone in line behind you with your flash. I thought I’d never stop laughing.
Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone!