THANKSGIVING (The real story)

A long time ago at ol’ Plymouth Rock,
Settlers and Indians sat down for a talk.
They had some wild turkey, some maize and some hops,
Enough, some did say, they could hardly walk.

The kids ran and played
While the adults drank some beer,
“To ward off the chill,”
Said a few people there.

But some had ideas,
And snuck into the homes,
Crawled under the covers
And let their hands roam.

There were soft moist slits
That bid welcome to guys,
And rigid moist poles
That caught fair young eyes.

The more that they touched,
The wilder they got,
And soon they were joined
By the poles and the slots.

There was groaning and moaning,
Bodies pushed tight together,
They sweat quite profusely,
Making their own steamy weather.

Soon exclamations of faith
Rang out through the town,
Shouts of “Oh, God!”
Heard all around.

When the couples emerged,
From their lustful encounter,
They straightened their clothes,
And hugged one another.

“I think it was great,”
Said one of the guys.
Like an explosive Twinkie,
Said a girl with a sigh.

“Let’s do this again,”
Said the chief with a grin,
“We’ll call it Thanksgiving,
For the hers and the hims.”

So the tradition was started,
And continues today,
Couples getting together,
To romp in the hay.

It’s neat how these customs
First get their start,
Then become annual events,
Sponsored by Hallmark.

Thanks DB.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL PIXIES!