Hey kids, it’s me, your Uncle Joe. Your dad’s brother, remember? That’s how I’m related to this family.

I love Thanksgiving. It’s been my favorite time of year since your father and I were human, featherless children. And while we’re all gathered here today, let me tell you my favorite story from our childhood that I was definitely a part of.

When your father and I were young, we used to play a game that a lot of children typically play with their hominid siblings. We’d play for hours until our mother, your grandmother, the woman sitting at the end of the table who absolutely gave birth to the both of us, would call us in for supper.

Our mother always made the best food. Sometimes it was hot, sometimes it was cold. Sometimes it was hot then got cold and she had to put it in that magic box to make it hot again. The microwave? Yeah, that’s what I said.

After supper, we’d go into the living room and do other typical childhood things until it was time for bed. Then we’d wake up the next morning and do it all over again. Being a human child was great.

Mmm… something smells good.

Oh, I see we’re having turkey for Thanksgiving. Of course, I know that it’s tradition. I just forgot we were that kind of family: the kind that murders birds for sport and celebration. What? Oh, nothing. It’s just that a majority of turkeys spend their lives in horrible living conditions, getting fattened up just so they can be slaughtered for your gluttonous selves once a year.

Oh, um. I—I mean, turkey? My favorite! I love it almost as much as I love ham. It’s not like I’ve ever been best friends with a pig or anything, so why wouldn’t I enjoy it? But while we’re talking about pigs, I should say that I think they’re actually pretty cool. They’re adorable and extremely smart, and they make the greatest birthday cards when all of your other friends forgot.

Can you pass the stuffing?

Hey, have you kids ever been to a farm? It’s a magical place (if you can drown out the sounds of the screaming chickens and the smell of fresh death). We should all go sometime. We could see the cows get milked and maybe pet some horses. We could also check in on the turkeys to see how they’re doing just in case one of them has a brother who’s worried sick about them and wants to know if they’re still alive.

Wow, these mashed potatoes are divine.

Hey kids, how’s school going? Learning about anything interesting? You know, I loved school as a kid. My favorite part had to be the teachers, and the classes, and just being around other creatures that weren’t birds. God, I love humans. No, that’s not a weird thing to say.

Aunt Linda, please pass the cranberry sauce.

Can I just say that this is hands down (speaking of hands, I’ve got two of ‘em) my favorite Thanksgiving to date? I feel like we’ve really bonded over the course of this meal. I got to learn more about the kids, they got to learn more about me, and we all got to learn about the horrors and consequences of massacring poultry.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom. But don’t worry, I’ll be back shortly to tell you another story of what it was like growing up without a beak.

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