Dear Blake,
I’m eight years old, and my home is not a very happy one. Thanksgiving is coming up, and we won’t be having a big dinner… if anything. Neither of my parents work, and all they do is argue with each other and smoke marijuana. All of my friends are having big dinners with their families, and I am depressed that we’re not having one. Can you give me some advice?
Signed, Bobby
From Billings, Montana
* * * * * * * *
Dear Bobby,
I really feel bad that you are starting the beginning of the holiday season feeling sad. Millions of kids all over this nation are as embarrassed as you are to be genetically linked to two losers. But just because their stomachs will be growling on Thanksgiving evening, it doesn’t mean yours will too. Consider these suggestions. When you go to school tomorrow, try to get one of your friends to invite you over to their place next Thursday. And to make them sympathetic to your request, show them a picture of your parents, and then tell them to google the word “worthless”. Call a local reporter and accuse your mom and dad of beating you every day. I promise you that you’ll get plenty of invitations to a Thanksgiving dinner from all over the city after your situation is aired on tv, and the local child protection agency temporarily removes you from your home as an immediate investigation gets launched. But here is the safest thing to do. Run away from home, and go to the nearest police station on Thanksgiving Day. Don’t tell them your name or address. I assure you they will feel sorry for you, and make sure you are well fed that evening. After your stomach is full, tell them who you are and where you live. When the cops return you to your parents, and they ask where you’ve been, just let out a hearty burp and let them figure it out. I hope this helps.
Blake