A Thanksgiving Letter (to my brother)

Dear Sam,
 If you didnt eat all you possibly could...
 If you didnt decimate your entire plate...
 If you didnt cram mama' Lou's good ol' cooking down your happy fat throat...
 If you didnt lick up every taint of purple cranberry sauce on your plate and bread crumb off your napkin...
 If you didnt shove the elderly mercilessly on to the ground and small children out of your hungry, rampaging path when going for seconds, thirds... eighths...
 If you didnt stare that turkey leg in the eye with your battle fork and knife in hand and tell it in your best Clint Eastwood voice, "It's goin' down. A'yippy-kai-yai-yay..."...
 If you didnt gnash, growl, and fight over the buttery rolls as if they were the secret to life...
 If you didnt conquer enough chow to have to drop trow...
 If you didnt leave the pie scene similar to a Hiroshima aftermath...
 If you didnt eat mashed potatoes till it came out your nose and ears like your head was a play-dough factory...
 If you didnt stuff stuffing until you ripped lightning and crapped thunder...
 If you didnt eat like some type of savage wild animal, like you just got out of a 4 hour school seminar, like your soul purpose was to disgust those who sat next to you... as if the whole wide world was about to explode and the only way to save it was to jack-ram fodder into your skull hole like Mr. Bumstead himself...

Then you must be crazy. Because all I'M having for thanksgiving is a load of PB&J's... all by myself... because thats all I can afford to eat and I feel some moral obligation to eat a large amount on the afternoon of that day....

So yeah. Happy Thanksgiving bro!
---Love--- Jake