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Wayne Post
  • Anne Palumbo: What one leftover said to the other

  • If leftovers could talk, here’s a conversation between cranberry sauce and stuffing, on the day after Thanksgiving.

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  • If leftovers could talk, here’s a conversation between cranberry sauce and stuffing, on the day after Thanksgiving.
    Cranberry:  Hey there, hot Stuff, what’s the word?
    Stuffing:  The word?  Ouch!  If I get probed one more time, I’m going to initiate mold production.
    Cranberry:  I…I don’t understand.
    Stuffing:  Nobody uses utensils in this family.  They just dig in with their grimy fingers and have their way with me, like I’m some second-class leftover that’s been languishing since September.  It’s humiliating.
    Cranberry:  At least they’re interested.  Nobody seems to care what I have to offer.
    Stuffing:  But, you’re beautiful!  All bright and shiny.  If I weren’t so consumed with my own plight, I’d be all over you.
    Cranberry:  That’s what they all say.  But, the truth is, I’m just a one-day stand.  No better than eye-candy.  I pretty up the plate, add a little zip, and then it’s over.  I feel so used.
    Stuffing:  Ah, Cran, give it a chance.  Soon, they’ll be making turkey sandwiches.  Won’t they want you then?
    Cranberry:  You would think!  But, no, they never remember.  I just get pushed further and further back.  Let me tell you, it’s no picnic being back here with month-old tuna salad.  Talk about a foul attitude.
    Stuffing:   Shhh!  Somebody just opened the fridge.  Brace yourself, Cran, it could get rough.
    Cranberry:  Nah, it looks like he’s going for the potatoes.
    Stuffing:  OMG, he’s using his whole hand to scoop the potatoes – like a crane!
    And he keeps looking over his shoulder.  What’s that about?
    Cranberry:  He doesn’t want to get caught by the missus.  He knows how fried she gets whenever he uses his fingers.
    Stuffing:   Holy contamination, look what he’s doing now.  He’s ripped off a piece of turkey with his mouth and is now dipping it in the gravy.  What a beast!
    Cranberry:  You’re telling me.  Oh, look out, Stuff, he’s coming your way.   And, his forehead is sweating.  I think he’s worried about the houseguests.
    Stuffing:  Houseguests?
    Cranberry:  Rumor has it they ravage the leftovers when everyone is sleeping.  Apparently, his wife’s cousins all look like linebackers, even the women.
    Several have won pie-eating contests.  Newborns tip the scale at 15 pounds.  Get the picture?
    Stuffing:  Everything makes sense now…the shoveling with the fingers, the cross-contamination between leftovers, the over-the-shoulder glances.  Poor guy.  His digestion must be a mess.  No wonder he burps like a water buffalo.
    Cranberry:  Well, it looks like your days are numbered, Stuff.  Congrats, again.  Don’t worry about me.  I’ve got some creamed rutabaga to keep me company.
    Page 2 of 2 - Stuffing:  What the heck’s that?
    Cranberry:  Beats me, but it already smells worse than the tuna.   Between you and me, the inside of a disposal never looked so good!
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