The Great Feast

This weekend, my neighbor was again kind enough to invite me to the most magnificent feast. I even suspended my sister’s detention.

From my understanding, the feast, called Thanksgiving, is a traditional celebration by this nation’s conquering settlers whereby they honor the vanquished with the sacrifice of a very large bird and consumption of various dishes. I imagine the tradition is similar to the hunt of the feral Gingubous Beast by the Argoths of Kar. I have seen that beast, and it is a fire-breathing razor-toothed menace of the Outer Rim. The turkey, while large enough to heartily feast on, is not quite so impressive as a target of sacrifice. I imagine there is some loss in the translation over the years.

The feast itself was an absolute delight—bread stuffing, mozzarella mashed potatoes, corn pudding, sweet potato pie—all traditional dishes, I am told. For my own part, I was eager to contribute a recipe for Risotto I have wanted to try out. It has certainly gotten me thinking about more possibilities in the world of food. Perhaps my favorite part of this holiday was the continuous coverage on the Food Network with more new ideas for cooking.

Now, we are entering an entire “Holiday season” during which more of these feasts will be prepared. I greatly anticipate this season.

Detention

I have placed my sister in Level 3 Detention. You may be more familiar with the term “grounded.”

She should know better. I know our progenitors raised smarter younglings, but Madison was out far past her agreed curfew last night with some human boy whom I have yet to meet. She has become so accustomed to living as a human that she forgets that she is not one. She trusts her classmates too much.

I must take some of the blame. Since we arrived and it was clear that I must take charge of her, I have laid down rules, but I have given her too much freedom.

“But it was just a date,” Madison insisted to me. “All human teenagers go out on Saturday nights.”

That may very well be true, but I reminded her that she is not an ordinary human teenager. She is only posing as one. I must press upon her the gravity of losing sight of that. She loves the humans too much, and she forgets how dangerous they can be.

“You love the humans too,” she reminded me. I may, but that does not mean we should stop being appropriately cautious.

This prompted an argument that lasted quite late into the morning in which she insisted that I do not care for her to form any attachments to the humans because I have been unable to. That is not a fair statement. I am simply looking out for her wellbeing. Who knows what dangerous things young human males are capable of? We are protected as well as can be, but humans are rash. The secret of our alien origin aside, she could be in any sort of danger from this boy. Teenage males of this world are brimming with hormones that make them out of control.

My sister insists that this boy, Nick, is a good guy and would never hurt her. It turns out that this Nick fellow is that same neighbor with the band that threw the noisy party not too long ago. I threaten to talk to his parents, but Madison is already irrationally angry and will no listen to any reason regardless.

I have to let it go for now. Madison is grounded for the week, and I believe that is punishment enough. I could forbid her from seeing Nick, but what little I know of teenagers tells me that will do no good. I will have to keep an eye on them, though. My sister is becoming rebellious, but I may be able to deal with that. This boy Nick is the one I am wary of.

Angry Birds

Since my sister convinced me to get a “smart” phone, I have come around to enjoying many of the recreational applications available for it. My current enjoyment comes from an application called “Angry Birds.”

The birds are apparently angry because untrustworthy pigs have stolen their eggs. Like any noble species, the birds are willing to sacrifice their own lives in order to destroy the dishonorable pigs and gain back their precious eggs and, presumably, their own honor.

I understand this is a game of fantasy, but I find it an intriguing commentary. Perhaps the humans are onto something with the development of the species around them. Birds, most birds anyway, appear to be noble yet easily angered creatures, and from all accounts that I can tell, pigs are much less honorable. There are certain things about the pigs that remind me of humans.

My sister has been reading a book in school called Animal Farm, which she and Douglas have insisted I read. From what I understand, it is also about a pig uprising. These humans may sharper than I give them credit for.

Still, pigs are not as sinister as squirrels. It would not surprise me if squirrels were behind this uprising of the pigs all along. It may be a good idea to attempt contact with the birds.

Squirrels

You cannot trust squirrels. Of all the various species on this planet, I hypothesize that squirrels are the most nefarious. I have very little evidence to back this suspicion up, but I have that twinge of feeling that humans call a hunch. Perhaps it is their uncanny resemblance to the Guild Founders on Sagittarius A, but perhaps it is unfair to stereotype.

Certainly, they appear friendly enough, even cute by earth standards, but if you look closer, they are untrustworthy thieves at best, and much smarter than they are letting on.

All I know is, I was enjoying a relaxing day of golf--a game that my neighbor has been kind enough to introduce me to--and we were regularly vexed by the presence of squirrels. Since the point of golf is to hit a very small ball with a large club across a great distance in attempt to land it inside a hole, the challenge is always to find the ball after hitting it. I am not exaggerating when I say that on approximately half of the holes, we spotted a squirrel attempting to or successfully stealing one of my balls.

Yes, now that I think, each time they went after my ball. If they failed to steal a ball, the squirrel or squirrels (as they sometimes traveled together) attempted to steal something else out of our cart, including a bag of corn snacks, which I have become quite fond of.

I am quite unsettled by the notion they are targeting me because they may have learned the truth that no one else around me has discovered yet. However, I am further unsettled by the thought that, as my neighbor James said, "They do this all the time." He insisted I not take it personally, but should the case be that the squirrels are not personally attacking me, it can only mean that there is a larger conspiracy at hand.

If they steal that many golf balls or other items from patrons of the course on a daily basis, where do they take them? I have theorized that they must dwell close by and underground.

Also, if their lair is big enough to house all that, and they are clearly smart enough to outwit recreational golfers on a regular basis, what else could be down there?

I must study the squirrels more.