Thanks-Giving the Bird

Thanksgiving arrives so quickly it seems,
then again, it's family tradition.
We kick back and watch some NFL teams,
Well – for me – that's the primary mission.

To visit those we haven't seen all year,
renders this day a special occasion.
Barely noon – Uncle Joe's on his eighth beer,
and on the verge of inebriation.

But good Joe's not the only one impaired,
lest we forget, there's my Great Aunt Mary.
None of the booze in the house shall be spared,
Seems she's located the cooking sherry.

The game will soon start – let's turn on the tube,
you can be certain football has my vote.
Faced with a challenge much like Rubik's Cube,
Uncle Joe's passed out atop the remote.

Like the football coach, I have a game plan,
I don't get rattled, I don't get un-nerved.
I take the sage advice of cousin Stan,
and say, "Dinner, dear Uncle, has been served."

Again in control, I now watch the game,
it might even be one for the ages.
Enter my wife, who for all this I blame,
and with me, into war she engages.

She tells me to go interact with the guests,
Turns out to be maritally impacting.
As I fail one of the most basic tests,
when I tell her she's "overreacting."

Decide to patch things up – or at least try,
so I compliment her on her turkey.
Poor choice of words, for she started to cry,
I said the bird tasted "like beef jerky."

Now she's mad at me; I don't understand,
how sometimes women can be so absurd.
She clearly mistook my simple demand,
"Toss me a drumstick" – but she flipped me the bird!