When the Pilgrims came to America, a lot of crap went down at first, and things were pretty grim for a while for them. At least that’s what I remember from 4th grade history class when we reenacted the first Thanksgiving. For those of you whose memories of the story of Thanksgiving are foggy, I’ll lay the details out in the next few delectable paragraphs. Put you in the true spirit of Thanksgiving, I’d say!

The Story of Thanksgiving

Once upon a time, the Pilgrims were persecuted in England for their refusal to conform with the latest fashion, preferring to stick to nylons for men and shoes with belt buckles, rather than the more practical puffy-sleeve attire that was so chic at the time. King Henry the Eleventh basically banished them to the most worthless new piece of land he had just discovered: America.

Yes. It was something like that. Anyway, so the Pilgrims soon landed in America after a rather relaxing voyage, and the first thing they realized was that nylons don’t do much to block the New England winter cold. The second thing they realized was that no decent places to eat had been built yet in the New World. In fact, the first Wingers was not to be constructed for another 18 years at least.

Meanwhile, already living in the new world was a young Indian boy named Squanto. Squanto was one of those Indians who didn’t get pissed about being called “Indian” rather than “Native American.” This was not just because it was really not going to be that big of a deal to anyone for a couple hundred years, but mostly because he was more pissed than anything at his parents for naming him Squanto instead of something stately like “Running Bull” or “Lethal Jaguar.”

Well, to make a long story short, the cold, starving Pilgrims ran into Squanto one day when he was crying in the forest. They asked him what his name was, and he replied, “My name is Squanto kind sirs.”

“Squanto? What kind of name is that?” Laughed the cruel, raucous Pilgrims.

In his tear-filled rage, Squanto leapt across a great boulder, heaving his javelin in an attempt to stab these derogatory Pilgrims. He was about to eviscerate the Pilgrim captain when his friend, Pocahontas, threw herself in front of the man and plead for his life. “Please, Squanto, we will never make fun of you again! Spare these Pilgrims, and instead of killing them, let’s teach them how to cook turkey and stuffing.”

“Can we make cranberry sauce?” quivered Squanto, his spear wavering. “And pumpkin pie?”

“Of course we can!” cried an exuberant Sacagewea, who had also arrived at the scene, “And then we can declare a huge sale at Macy’s the day afterward! People will claw each other’s eyes out in an attempt to get a good deal on frivolous merchandise every year in commemoration of this day!”

Everyone thought that was a good idea.

So Squanto put down his spear, and the Pilgrims knitted leg-warmers to go over their tights. And everyone sat down to a big feast. And Squanto was known that day as Chef Squanto. And from that day forth, a holiday was born.

No one knows what happened to Squanto after this. Some say he went on to found the great state of Indiana. Others say he went on to start the French-Indian War. Still others believe he personally javelined General Custer during Custer’s last stand. Most believe, however, that he pursued his culinary talents and played a leading role in the creation of the hit restaurant chain, Dunkin Donuts, which is now a fixture throughout every city in New England.

And that’s the story of the first Thanksgiving. May we remember the moral of this story as we eat our Turkey and fight our way in line at Macy’s this Thanksgiving. And that moral is…. tell your kids to pay attention in 4th grade history class, so they don’t have to say “I’m not sure” next time someone from another country asks them how Thanksgiving came to be!

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