Brussel Sprouts? Oh no!

The Autumn Years Rest Home : Monday November 21.

Ms Ratcher, the Director addressed the group at breakfast.

“This year, we are having our traditional Thanksgiving dinner. How many will be dining? We need a head count.”

“Can we bring guests?”

“Well, yes, one guest per resident, please.”

“But I have 4 grandchildren. Can’t they come? They don’t eat much.”

“No, Frank, only one guest per resident.”

“What are you serving?”

“Turkey, of course, mashed potatoes, corn, cranberry sauce, and of course, stuffing.”

“Any sweet potatoes? I love sweet potatoes.”

“No, not this year. We decided to serve brussel sprouts instead.”

“But I don’t like brussel sprouts. I want sweet potatoes.”

“Well, Gordon, this year, no sweet potatoes.”

“Any pie?”

“Yes, Minnie, pumpkin pie.”

“No pecan pie? I don’t like pumpkin pie.”

“No, Minnie, only pumpkin this year.”

“What about the stuffing? Is it going into the turkey? Or is it one of those side dishes?”

“It is a side dish, Wolf. Stuffing the bird is no longer acceptable. It is not safe.”

“What do you mean it isn’t safe? I have been eating stuffing in the bird for close to 80 years. It hasn’t killed me yet.”

“Well, we don’t want to kill you off this year, either. You have been very lucky. We are sticking to the safe method. Side dish of stuffing.”

“Are you brining the bird?”

“Brining? Have you been watching the cooking channel again Mary Cat? No, no brining.”

“But brining is healthy. It is … uhm…uhm..holistic.”

“Sorry Mary C, no, we are not brining.”

“Are you serving wine?”

“You know we don’t allow alcohol here at the home, George.”

“Then how about weed? I happen to know that is the drug of your choice, Ms. Ratchet.”

“Don’t go there, George. Now, let’s see a head count. How many will be dining with our family this year?”

Everyone raised their hands.

“Great. Thanks! I will let the cook know we will have a full house.”

“Hey Minnie, why did you raise your hand? You never stay here for Thanksgiving. As a matter of fact, non of you do, now that I recall.”

The group took Wolf aside.

“Hey you goof, none of us is eating here on Thanksgiving. We just want leftovers on Friday. Gordon is making sweet potatoes and Minnie is baking a pecan pie. So bring a couple bottles of wine, Wolf, and we will have our T day, to our liking.”

Never underestimate the cunning of Seniors.


The cable’s back!

The residents of the Autumn Years Rest Home were ecstatic. The cable finally came back on, a week after the big NorEaster snow storm. The group gathered around the set and settled down for an afternoon of watching movies.

“OK. Let’s see: Star Trek is on.”

“No way. I hate that Captain Kirk. He turned into a beached whale. And he was always beaming up Scottie.”

“How about Liar Liar?”

“Oh please. That Jim Carrey is a goof. He’s always making those awful facial expressions. And besides, I think he is from Canada.”

“Nascar is on!”

“Oh no you don’t. We want a movie.”

“How about an Alfred Hitchcock movie? The one with Paul Newman and Julie Andrews?”

“Absolutely not. If you recall, that was one of Paul’s only movies to flop. It was a disaster.”

“Anyone for the Pink Panther?”

“What? You mean that movie with that French idiot? He can’t even say monkey without screwing it up. He says minkey.”

“Here’s a great movie. The Grapes of Wrath.”

“I really don’t think we want to get more depressed than we already are. That movie just might be the most depressing movie of all time.”

“Well, now what? There are reruns of Deal or No Deal on the game channel.”

“Nobody ever wins on that show. Let’s watch one of my dvds.”

“Ok. Which one?”


“You mean the invisible rabbit movie?”

“Yes. I love that movie.”

“We just watched that last week. Can’t we watch something we haven’t seen for awhile?”

“Wait a minute. Let’s vote: Do we want drama? Action? Comedy? Romance?”

The group voted. It was a tie. 5 for each category.

“Jeez now we have to find a movie with all 4 categories. What the hell?”

It was an easy decision. The only movie that met the criteria was one of the group’s favorite: The Amy Fisher story.

Wolf Buttafucco