Bloodthirsty Savages

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

“That was our first Thanksgiving without Grandpa. We would never again hear him discuss how The Native Americans (“Redskins,” as he called them) attempted to devour the pilgrims upon their arrival. We would look back fondly on his tales of how much better everything was when all the cops were Irish. How Italians couldn’t play golf properly due to some obscure genetic anomaly in their physical construction. How unions were the best thing to happen to this country until they started allowing certain people in;  it didn’t matter if they were employed by the same supermarkets or not. We would miss his claims of possession all sorts of scientific or esoteric knowledge: hidden Jewish law, the superiority of Firestone tires, why Portuguese people shouldn’t be allowed to vote or own guns. Mostly, we would miss when he would drunkenly attempt to administer an Indian burn on Little Paulie, who, by the time of Grandpa’s death, outweighed him by 80 pounds. The best was when Little Paula tried to force Grandpa to swallow Drano after a particularly lively discussion about the respective values of Honda and Ford cars.”

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