#danny whiz-bang imagine

[collecting-stories]

A Short Stay - Danny Whiz-bang

I'd love to see a Danny Whizz-Bang imagine. Like... Some fluff that ends in tragedy. Idk. I've been bored as of late and started to rewatch season1 @thinkingsofamadwoman

A Short Stay - Danny Whiz-bang

The bell tolled twice and you stood in black beside Tommy Shelby. Freddie Thorne had been round earlier in the morning, as you were getting Daniel dressed, to pay his respects. It was in the kitchen there, over a hot cup of tea that Freddie generously made for you, that reality had seemed to set in. This wasn’t the first funeral you had attended for your husband but this time he wasn’t hiding from Italians in London. This time he wouldn’t return home to you and Daniel.  

Before the war, Danny Whiz-bang was brimming with confidence. More than Tommy or Freddie even. If Danny was in a room everyone knew it. You had been kids practically when he set his sights on you. Just sixteen and working for your father’s tailor shop, you and Danny crossed paths one afternoon when he brought in clothing for his mum. After that he seemed to come by the shop all the time. He’d have a rip in a pair of trousers or a shirt, once he brought you a jacket that looked as though he’d torn the sleeve off himself. You could always see Tommy or Freddie, occasionally even Arthur, glancing through the window as Danny chatted you up.  

“I’ve told you what my dad says Danny.” It was the same reply every time he asked you to out. It was never a no, because, truth be told, you liked Danny a lot and you looked forward to seeing him at the shop everyday. But your dad thought he was no good. No child of his would date a Peaky Blinder.  

“Yeah and it’s shit innit?” He replied, leaning against the counter. You were sat on the other side, busting stitching a blade into his cap.  

Your dad didn’t like the Peaky Blinders, as they called themselves, but Tommy paid you good money under the table to sew razors into all the boys caps. You would’ve done it without the pay simply because it meant some extra time with Danny.  

“He’ll be livid if he finds out.” You answered, glancing up at him. Danny was taller than most and had less meat on his bones than Freddie it seemed.  

He shrugged, not bothered by the threat of your father. He stood up and stretched his back before leaning over again. “Just think about it would ya? We wouldn’t have to tell your dad."  

"On Tuesday yeah, down by the water." You said, passing the cap across the counter to Danny.  

He grabbed the cap, holding onto your hand as well. "Yeah, down by the water." He agreed, smiling at you.  

Until the war broke out in France and England stepped in to help your relationship with Danny was just simple. Neither you or he went with anyone else but there was no progression toward anything too serious. No talks of marriage or children. You thought about those things and, unbeknownst to you, so did he, but you never spoke on it. Then he enlisted in the war.  

He came by your father's shop, the way he always did, though this time looking more somber than usual. When you thought back on it you were sure that was the last time you saw him truly himself. He told you that he was going to France, that he, Tommy, and Freddie had enlisted. He was so proud of himself that you couldn't possibly be upset. Not when he asked you to wait for him. That was the first time in years he had ever seemed serious about what you and he shared.  

"I was thinking, perhaps, you would wait for me." Danny requested. The confidence of the boy had been quieted by the reality of the man. He knew that war was dangerous and there was talk that not everyone may return but if he should return he knew that all he wanted was you waiting for him.  

"Of course Danny," you answered, "Of course I'll wait for you."  

And you did. You waited for three years of a war for Danny to come walking back through the door of your father's shop. The war in France progressed as did life in Small Heath. Almost as soon as you saw Danny off you learned that you were pregnant. Your father fell ill that winter and passed away before your son, who you named Daniel, was born. You inherited the shop and kept sewing razors into peaked caps even in the absence of the Shelby boys.  

You raised your son for nearly three years alone, telling him stories at night about his father. You painted a picture of a man full of confidence and bravery, a man who no longer existed. That became clear when you saw him step off the train with Tommy and Freddie. All three came back changed from the war, the boyish charm they'd all possessed had been stolen from them. But Danny suffered the worst fate, his head was changed by the carnage and the fighting.  

Still, when he stepped off the train, he greeted you the way you knew he would. Sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you round, placing kisses eagerly to your face and neck. You were engulfed in a hug from Freddie and received a handshake from Tommy, all three alive and mostly well. Danny cried when he saw his son and carried the boy on his shoulders all the way home.  

"Is he asleep?" You asked, looking to where Danny was in the doorway. He'd spent the whole evening with Daniel and insisted on seeing him off to bed.  

"He's all tucked in." Danny replied. He glanced behind him, toward his son's room, and then back to you. The war had been terrible, Danny could hardly believe that he was home now, with you sitting in bed waiting for him and his son asleep in the next room.  

You waved your hands at him, beckoning him to come in to see you. "I can't believe you're here," you whispered as you hugged him.  

"I missed you every day." He replied, sitting beside you on the bed. You leaned against him, holding him close to you. It felt like he was going to disappear at any moment. That you would wake up and he would be back in France.  

"I was afraid you wouldn't come home to me but you're here." You held his face in your hands and kissed him.  

He was home, but his mind was elsewhere. At first it seemed to just be night terrors. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming. It took all night to sate him, you would sit in bed with him, holding him and whispering that everything would be okay. Sometimes he would cry from embarrassment, sometimes he was too far gone to notice.

He felt guilty knowing he put you through this. That he'd asked you to wait for him and then had come back half the man he was before. The outbursts became worse as time went on. Noises would set him off and send him into a rage. Around the house you tired to keep Daniel quiet, cautious of having him upset his father in some way. You knew when Danny through his fits you couldn't stop him. More than once he'd destroyed furniture.  

"I'm so sorry," he apologized after one such event, the kitchen table broken and china shattered on the floor. You were on your hands and knees cleaning and you'd told him to go upstairs to lay down but he lingered in the doorway. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay Danny, you were just startled is all." You replied.  

Danny couldn't work. He did odd jobs for Tommy but the war had robbed him of his ability to work enough to make a living. The shop was your only income and you worked endless hours to make enough money to provide. Between Daniel's terrible three's and Danny's outbursts it was as if you had two children. It was exhausting most every day but you wouldn't change it.

Looking back at Danny as you sat up on your knees you couldn't be angry about the kitchen. "I'm just glad to have you with me. I'd rather you than a couple plates any day."

"Let me help you clean up." Danny offered, already kneeling down to grab the other dustpan.  

"That would be lovely."

Freddie stood at the kitchen window, looking out at the clothes hanging on the small line drying. A pair of Danny's trousers. It had hardly been an hour since the fight with Billy Kimber but he had come straight here to tell you. He had volunteered to take care of this while Tommy took care of business. Freddie always promised you that he would watch out for Danny and you had confided in him about the sickness that infected your husband's head.  

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"It's no one's fault Freddie. He loved Tom, and he hated being stuck here in the house. It was hard for him, seeing you and Tom alright and seeing himself not so. I would like to think he's okay now. That he's somewhere that doesn’t hurt. Where he can be happy."  

"He was happy everyday he was with you." Freddie replied.

"As was I."  

On the day of the funeral Tommy came to collect you. He walked you up to the graveyard, a small headstone on the hill with Danny's name on it. After the small gathering Tommy took Daniel, letting you have a few moments alone. You rested a hand against the cold stone of the grave marker, cheeks and nose red from crying and the cold.  

"I'll wait for you still Danny," you whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on the headstone.

Is this fluff that ends in tragedy? 

[lost-in-fanfic]

The Woman - Thomas Shelby x reader (Part 2)

A/N: So here is part 2, I hope you all enjoy it. Part 1 link below. Not my Gif and please don’t steal my work :)

Warnings: Mention of killing, quiet a bit of bad language. 

A brief summary: After receiving a mysterious note, Tommy is about to meet with the woman hired to kill him. 

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 2538

“This is fucking mental Tommy!” Arthur shouted for the tenth time that morning. After Tommy had run out of The Garrison last night without warning Polly had demanded to see the note. He had consequently spent the rest of the night, and now this morning stood in the kitchen at Watery Lane being told he was making a stupid mistake. Gripping the back of the chair, Tommy let out an exasperated sigh, his patience was wearing thin and it was time he headed to his meeting. He had been to meetings with people who wanted to kill him before, but normally he manged to get the business done without any of the others realising what he was up to. “Thomas,” Polly was leaning against the fireplace looking at her nephew, his eyes staring down at the floor, “when you get a note, from someone who won’t even give their name, saying they have been hired to kill you, it isn’t generally a good idea to go and sit down for a cosy chat. At least let Arthur and John hide in the backroom.” She was just as tired of arguing as Tommy. Tired of watching him seek out ways to find danger, it came easily enough in their lives, why did he have to always hold the door open for it? Finally, he looked up at her, then Tommy straightened up as he pulled his peaky cap onto his head, fastened his coat, and moved to the door. “Today is going to be a busy day here. Arthur and John, keep an eye on the bets and don’t forget to watch Sam Guest, he’s won a fucking lot recently and no one gets that lucky on a fixed race. Polly it’s safe count day.” He opened the door and stepped onto the street just before he closed the door behind him, he turned back and said, “and if any of you set foot in The Garrison this morning, I will shoot you myself.” With that he slammed the door and headed up the road.

Tommy pulled out his keys, finding the correct one for the back door of The Garrison knowing that the front door would still be bolted from the inside this time of day, however as he drew closer to the pub, he could see the front door wasn’t locked at all. In fact, it stood ever so slightly open with no sign of damage to suggest it had been forced. Tommy took his gun from its holster and held it up as he slowly pushed open the door, just for a second he pictured the ambush he was about to walk into and thought to himself he should probably have brought John and Arthur after all.

(Y/N) had arrived early that morning, keen to be as prepared as always. She had made a note of the heavy sliding bolts on the front door the night before, and when a small argument had broken out earlier in the night and distracted the barman, she had taken the opportunity to check exactly where the back door was and find out just how easy that lock would be to pick. This should be a day like any other in her life, but that morning she had found herself strangely nervous to meet with Tommy and regretted her rash decision to arrange a face-to-face meeting.  In her career she had developed a policy of never giving out her name and only met with people face to face on rare occasions. The only time she had broken this rule was with people she was certain would not be a threat to her in the future, such as grateful targets that she decided to let live or the odd desperate housewife. Tommy Shelby was definitely not desperate and could very possibly be the biggest danger to her future she had ever faced, yet here she sat waiting for him.

When he entered the pub the last thing Tommy had truly expected was one woman, sat on her own at a table in the middle of the room. She had moved the other chairs away from it so there was just one for her and one for him. Leant back smoking she looking as relaxed as if she owned the place and he were walking into her territory, not the other way around. This woman, however, could not have stood out more against the grey of Small Heath. Her hair was shinning in the light coming through the dusty windows, each strand perfectly in place, her bright green dress fitted each part of her body perfectly and was so stylish she would have looked more at home in one of Ada’s magazines than sat in The Garrison. Tommy was so taken aback he did not even realise he was still pointing his gun at her.

“I did promise not to kill you during this conversation Mr Shelby, I would appreciate it if you lowered your gun.” Her voice was like silk as it reached him and without really meaning to, he put his gun away, closing the door behind him. She motioned to the seat opposite her for him to sit down, but her initial spell over him seemed to weaken somewhat as he realised he was not accustomed to being offered a seat in his own pub. Instead, he walked over to the bar, leaning against it he took a cigarette from his case and rolled it over his lips before striking a match and lighting it. All the while never breaking eye contact with the woman before him. (Y/N) refused to let his stare cause her to back down, she looked straight back at him. Quickly though she realised how right she had been in thinking that meeting Tommy like this was a big risk, his eyes seemed to be seeing right into her, and she was fairly sure if one of them did not break the silence soon there was a very big chance her carefully built defences would crumble. Exhaling his first draw on his cigarette Tommy decided to take the opportunity to try and control the conversation. “Well, you know my name, seems only fair you should tell me yours.” His voice oozed with confidence and sent a thrill deep into (Y/N)’s core. “I’ll tell you what Mr Shelby, how about I ask what I need to know so I can make my decision and at the end of the conversation you can ask me any question you like, which I swear I will answer honestly. If knowing my name is still important then, I shall give you the truth. Alternatively, I could just give you a fake name now and we can go into this telling lies.” She matched his confidence with every word, putting out her cigarette as she finished, showing she was ready to get down to business.

Tommy couldn’t help but allow the smallest of smiles to tug at the corner of his mouth as he sat down opposite her unbuttoning his coat and motioning for her to continue. “As I said, I am here to decide if you deserve to die.” She began, “Almost certainly do.” Tommy’s answer cut across her, she wasn’t expecting him to speak yet, and would never have imagined that would be the answer he gave. Raising her eyebrow slightly she scanned his face, his jaw was set and eyes fixed, there was no hint that he was joking or even scared of the idea of dying.

“Mr Shelby, my client has hired me for a specific reason. I have several rules in my business and one of them is I will only carry out the contract if that reason is justified, regardless of whatever else maybe true of the person.” She paused as Tommy flicked his ash into the tray, his face was expressionless, but there was something in his eyes. (Y/N) was convinced that she had never seen a more crystal-clear blue in her life and although they seemed cold and calculating she had a gut feeling that if only she knew him better, they would be the only key to reading how he felt. Tommy said nothing, he had never been more intrigued by a woman so quickly and he wanted to ensure he paid attention to everything she said, after all this woman may yet try to kill him.

“I am here to get your side of the story, regarding Daniel Owen better known as Danny Whiz-Bang.” Whatever Tommy had been expecting her to say it certainly wasn’t that. (Y/N) noticed the way his eyes unwittingly widened in shock, once again she had surprised him putting him entirely on the back foot, she had always relished being in control of every situation and there was something even more intoxicating about having any sort of power over a man like Thomas Shelby.

The end of Tommy’s cigarette glowed as he inhaled deeply, taking the opportunity of a brief pause to get himself back in check. “Daniel Owens was killed by Billy Kimber. I killed Billy Kimber. End of story.” His voice was deep and controlled as he tried to reveal as little emotion as possible. (Y/N) leant forward slightly, the fact that he didn’t fully understand why she was here excited her. “I know that. My client is more interested in the fact he was there at all, after all you had already killed him yourself, hadn’t you?” Tommy decided enough was enough, putting out his cigarette he leant forward to match her, “who the fuck is your client?” his tone had changed it dripped with menace and power. “I told you Mr Shelby, I will answer one question at the end. Don’t worry,” she could see his eyes darkening, there were only so many times you could poke a stick at a dangerous animal before it attacked, and she felt she had pushed her luck far enough. “I only have one more question for you, why did you let Danny Whiz-Bang live?” her tone was different, she was no longer toying with him, vying for control, she genuinely wanted to know why he hadn’t just killed him. If Tommy were more of a fool, he would have thought she cared.

“Danny Whiz-bang didn’t kill that Italian, the monster that lived in the mud in his head did. He brought that monster back from France, he saved my life over there in that mud, so I killed the monster and sent Danny away so he could try and clean his head out.” It was the truth; he had known since they returned from France that Danny had no control at times. Tommy had brought his own monster back with him and the thought of what that monster could turn him into is what kept him fighting.

“Very well.” (Y/N) had listened to every word he had said, the honesty in his voice was clear. This time she found herself on the back foot, the truth concealed just the tiniest shred of vulnerability and that was something she had not expected to find. Over his shoulder she spotted two silhouettes, which she strongly suspected of belonging to his brothers, hovering by the door. “Thank you for meeting with me this morning Mr Shelby.” Standing up she slipped into her white coat and made towards the back room and the door she had come in through earlier. “Hang on,” said Tommy standing up as well, “you owe me a question remember? A deal is a deal.” His eyes were back to being their calm crystal blue, if there had been a moment in which he had been even close to vulnerable it had passed. There was, however, a slight tinge of desperation to keep her there in his voice which even Tommy wouldn’t have been able to explain. (Y/N) turned back to him and nodded. “What’s your name? I assume from your note it starts with W.” There were other more important questions he should probably ask, like if she was still going to try and kill him, but all he wanted to know was her name. (Y/N) couldn’t stop a small soft smile from forming and she bit her bottom lip to try and stop it. Every single part of her willed her to lie, or distract him, she couldn’t risk giving any part of herself to him. Not even her name was safe to give, but even the strongest woman can’t hold out fully under the gaze of those eyes. “I use the W for business. My name is (Y/N), oh and by the way I think your brothers are getting impatient.” She replied, nodding towards the door where Arthur and John were waiting. As Tommy turned to look, she silently slipped away, gone by the time he turned back.

He stood there stuck in silence for a moment, her name playing through his head like a song, as if she had placed him under a spell again. It was only a first name though and he felt cheated, he had clearly meant both names. Tommy Shelby did not like being cheated. He gathered himself together and then went out the front where Arthur and John were stood with guilty faces. “We didn’t come in Tom.” John said as soon as he walked out, he sounded like a child that had been caught going for the biscuit tin. Tommy didn’t care though, he just wanted to know where (Y/N) was going. “Round the back, she’s wearing a white coat, you can see her green dress hanging out the bottom and she’s got (y/h/c) hair. Follow her and tell me where she goes.” He barely looked at them just gave the order and began to move back to the house. “She?” said Arthur, “The killers a she?” his confusion evident. “Yes Arthur, a woman, now go before you lose her.” Tommy strode off. “Polly is gunna love this.” Muttered John. The brothers hurried around the corner looking for the white coat and green dress. “Watch out!” shouted Arthur as he turned the corner colliding straight into a woman wearing all black. “Sorry.” She muttered scurrying up the street.

When Tommy had turned his back (Y/N) had moved quickly, going to where she had left a bag earlier by the back door. Knowing she only had moments she pulled off her coat, grabbed out a black skirt that she put on to cover the bottom of her dress, turned her coat inside out so it was now black and put it on over the top. Looking down she checked that no green was now showing. Next, she took out a wig that was several shades darker than her natural colour, it pulled on easily as she gathered her own hair up. Finally, a simple black hat with a vail to cover her face. Checking quickly in the mirror she was pleased to see she looked just like a young widow, not an unusual sight in Small Heath. Leaving out the back door she rounded the corner and walked straight into Arthur Shelby, muttering apologies she moved out of his way and headed back to the boarding house.

@comebackjessica​ @nemesis729​ @spacenijntje​

[ask-the-swapfell-crew]

SF!papyrus Riffs on “A Day of Thanksgiving” (the 403 followers special)

SF!papyrus: young america films presents a short that no young american will watch, unless someone is making smartass commentary over it. a fake educational short film by eli roth. co-directed by legendary filmmaker lawrence kansas from tennessee. *laughs* nyahahaha! oh, that mallard fillmore! you can't stack taxes up there! *normal* pardon me, let me turn down the scotch…

Dad: I'm Bill Johnson. Around here they just call me "Dad".

SF!papyrus: "dad" is our safe-word…

Dad: I'm trying to read but I just can't seem to do it. I keep thinking about today…

SF!papyrus: national literacy day!

Dad: We Johnsons had a good Thanksgiving. The best we've ever had…

SF!papyrus: grandpa johnson only used the n-word twice.

Dad: … A real feeling of thankfulness. And that's odd too when you consider the shape things were in when I got home from work yesterday.

SF!papyrus: Danny had scattered my papers all over the floor and all I tried to do was pull him up – slight momentarily loss of muscular coordination.

Dad: As kids will, mine were living tomorrow right along with today.

SF!papyrus: all of their trouble seem so far away. now they need a place to hide away…

Dad: Mother instead of me had to break the news to them.

Susan: Tommorow is thanksgiving!

SF!papyrus: billy, it's speaking to us again…

Dick: … and pie and cake.

Tommy: And fruit-salad and whipped cream and cranberries! Gee!

SF!papyrus: and tutti fruttis and crackerjacks and big league chew and a bottle of old harbour and a glass of cane sugar!

Mom: Well, your father and I thought that…… Well, the truth of the matter is; there just won't be any turkey this year.

SF!papyrus: because we want hilarity to ensue like in "the hoboken chicken emergency".

Mom: … pumpkin pie, we'll have plenty to eat but… Well, we just have to get along without turkey.

Dick: Mom, you don't mean it!?

SF!papyrus: next thing you're gonna tell me that women will get to vote!?

Susan: Even the pilgrims had a feast. After all, isn't that what Thanksgiving's for? I don't think it's fair…

Dad: And it was right there that I came in.

SF!papyrus: it seemed like the best time to tell them that christmas had also been cancelled… *talking gibberish* hey, hey ralph! eh show me the bo…! i'm in the wrong house!?

Dad: … Dick, Susan? *a beat* Now what's been going on around here?

SF!papyrus: Why am I the only one who's five whiskeys slighter deep into 3 in the afternoon?

Susan: … no good thing!

Dick: A fat lot we have to be thankful for…

SF!papyrus: Yeah, dad! You're a loser! I overheard mom wondering why you can put in 12 hours at work but can't manage 3 minutes in the bedroom.

Dick: … gonna have it this year. Same as always!

Dad: Yes, we've always had turkey, just as a lot of Americans have had it and we'll keep on having it.

SF!papyrus: Huh, do we look like a family of commies? Ha!

Dad: But what you kids are saying makes it sound as if the turkey is the only thing we have to be thankful for.

Dick: Oh gee whiz. No, dad.

SF!papyrus: Huh, yulk!

Dad: Oh I know, Dick.

SF!papyrus: Father knows dick…

Dad: It's easy to loose sight of what Thanksgiving really means.

Mom: And don't think we're just making excuses, because we don't have any turkey this year.

SF!papyrus: Your father has convinced me that it's all my fault.

Mom: … it'll mean a lot more to us the next time we do have it.

Dick: Well, sure. Suppose we don't have a bang-up feast, we're still a lot better off than the pilgrims.

SF!papyrus: Yeah! Stupid pilgrims – the true victims of the new world.

Dad: Turkey or no turkey, we still got all the freedoms and privileges the pilgrims gave us.

SF!papyrus: Except for witch-burnings. I've been told that tradition is now frowned upon…

Dad: … that pilgrims never even dreamed of.

Tommy: Why, we can make a list a mile long!

Susan: Why don't we do it?

SF!papyrus: And if any of the names are anti-pilgrim/-American we can get them blacklisted from Pilgrim, Hollywood, we sure can!

Dad: You got to feel down deep before you can really be thankful for anything. I tell you what we'll do… Let's take a little more time to think this over.

SF!papyrus: Because I'm not gonna remember this after I pass out in 5 minutes… Your mom is nervous-stirring again, isn't she?

Dad: Your life? Sure, that's one thing you can't get along without. But do you know that there are some places in the world today, where you have to get along without just about everything else?

SF!papyrus: Like properly structuring a sentence…

Dad: I guess I kinda got carried away…

SF!papyrus: Sorry you got to see me like this. Come here swift, I'll beat the memories out of you!

Dad: When we sit down to  WHATEVER mother fixes to eat tomorrow…

SF!papyrus: Which will no doubt be garbage.

Dad: … that will really have a Thanksgiving dinner! *Next scene* Well, that's how it got started. The Johnsons didn't have any turkey…

SF!papyrus: And thus I created the original "First World Problems"-meme.

Dad: … to make something special out of a special day. So we fell back on something as old as the pilgrims.

SF!papyrus: Prostitution!

Dad: … the common, ordinary blessings that we had to be thankful for. *Next scene* That night I'd see Dick there, building his model airplane.

SF!papyrus: Often times I as well daydream about dick…

Dad: They'd mellow things over, thinking big thoughts for such young heads.

SF!papyrus *as baby Janet*: Let's see – the pythagorean theorem states that the square of the hypotenuse is equal or…  opposite of the two sides? *as dad* Hmmm, on second thought. Funky Winkerbean kinda sucks…

SF!papyrus: As you can see, mother lost the first round of strip-thanksgiving.

Dad: And then… Well, we all knew it. There are some things you just can't say.

SF!papyrus: For instance, why did I agree to so many flowers on the wallpaper and the artwork?

Dad: … and this was a time to think about it.

SF!papyrus: Dearest secretary Khrushchev…

Tommy: I am thankful for getting plenty to eat all the time.

SF!papyrus: But I don't understand the need to always throw up after dinner…

Tommy: Like mom says – I'm hungry all the time anyway and if I didn't live in a country where there is plenty to go around… Golly!

SF!papyrus: FUCKING LANGUAGE!!!

Tommy: And I am thankful for the free public library…

SF!papyrus: Where I can laugh at the homeless people and beat them with a bag of money that I then set on fire.

Tommy: … the way they tell a story is as good as being there yourself. And it's free with only a library-card.

SF!papyrus: Which, according to the internet, the government uses to spy on its middle-class suburban white citizens.

Dad: And somehow, turkey and trimming seemed to matter a whole lot less than he thought they did yesterday.

SF!papyrus: Because he snuck out at 3 in the morning to steal the turkey from the Salvation Army.

Dad: You never credit her with thinking beyond her doll.

SF!papyrus: Since she's a woman, you see…

Susan: I am thankful for having what we need to wear.

SF!papyrus: Mom, was that a bulimia joke in the previous prayer?

Susan: I never thought before how many clothes it takes for all kinds of weather or how it would be to have to do without the right ones.

SF!papyrus: I can't imagine living in a world of mixing blue jeans with black t-shirts.

Susan: I'll go to any church I want any sunday.

SF!papyrus: Except for the protestants.

Susan: I am thankful for my mother and daddy that they're here with us. That both of them aren't too worried about things to take time to have fun with us.

SF!papyrus: Like teaching us about grammar.

Susan: … that families are still important in America.

Dad: I guess Dick, being the oldest, was having some pretty serious thoughts.

SF!papyrus: Dick often has serious thoughts about dick-oriented dick-activity.

Dick: … education. For living where our schools, all schools, open their doors to a guy who wants to learn.

SF!papyrus: As long as his skin is the same color as Jesus.

Dick: Where a guy is rated by how much he knows and a community is rated by how well it teaches him.

SF!papyrus: By the proper size of their family's dicks…

Dick: … banging a ball 'round once in a while.

SF!papyrus: Dick often marvels at how fun it is playing outdoors with his balls.

Dad: Sure, baby Janet…

SF!papyrus: I'M RUNNING ON EMPTY HERE!!! BRING MOTHER OVER TO POP OUT THE RUM-TITS!!!

Dad: … even to tell us the things that makes her happy.

SF!papyrus: She's thinking about the time when she gets older and questions why there was a group of men filming her in the bathtub.

Dad: … thinking about the fun, splashing around in the tub and about how good it feels to be clean.

SF!papyrus: Oh, this doll was sent to us from uncle Ed in Edlery in Warren.

Dad: … she feels in her mother's arms. *next scene* And as for mother…

SF!papyrus: She has no thoughts unless I give them to her.

Dad: Cooking, ironing, tending children daylight to dark.

SF!papyrus: Contemplating would stop the meeting of a razorblade and the wrists.

Mom: I am thankful that my children had the privilege of being born safely.

SF!papyrus: And American and white and not poor and christian and white again…

Mom: I am thankful that I have the privilege of guiding them that they become useful men and women.

SF!papyrus: Soon change their names to "Cowsill".

Mom: And I am thankful for all the things our American system makes possible for the Smiths and the Browns… and the Johnsons.

SF!papyrus: But more so the Smiths and the Johnsons over the Browns…

Mom: Hot water out of the tap.

SF!papyrus *screaming in pain*: AAAARGH!!!

Mom: And a telephone to call the doctor when one in the family is sick.

SF!papyrus: Yep, the rickets again… And pink eye and brown eye. *as dad* I'll be back soon, honey. Gotta meet Woodward and Bernstein and another parking garage.

Mom: I am thankful that when my neighbor drops in to borrow a cup of flour, we got the right to talk about anything we want to.

SF!papyrus *whispers*: My baby is black!

Mom: … future project, the new mayor or Jane Jones' hat.

Annoying cat: *meeeoow!*

SF!papyrus: Yes, they're thankful for you too, cat…

Mom: I am truly thankful for the peace of mind…

SF!papyrus *as dad*: I hope those broads aren't talking about my new hat… *as dad's boss* Yeah look, Johnson… About the turkey-bonus, we decided to send you home with a certificate to the "Jelly of the Month Club"… and you're fired!

Mom: I'm glad dad doesn't work slave-hours.

SF!papyrus: Because if there's one thing our family can relate to; it's slavery.

Dad: That's mother for you…

SF!papyrus: Always passing out at the dinner-table, thinking about slavery…

Dad: And now for me… I've got so many things to be thankful for.

SF!papyrus: Such as a full head of hair and a straightened tie.

Dad: It may need a coat of paint, it has a mortgage but it's ours. A place where we can be together in privacy.

SF!papyrus: With the relatives of the previous owners I've never bothered looking for the potties.

Dad: The happiness here, not just today or on Christmas morning, but on a day-to-day basis all things here…

SF!papyrus: It'll make us happier if we had some turkey instead of POPCORN, DAD!

Dad: … knowing that a knock on our door means nothing to fear.

SF!papyrus: House Committee on Un-American Activities, open up!

Dad: … or kids selling magazines, you never know what to expect.

SF!papyrus: We hear you're hiding turkeys…

Dad: It's not going to be some political gangster coming to drag one of us off to jail because we believe in freedom.

SF!papyrus: Questioning our fine government is a treason of offensiveness in this household!

Dad: … that freedom we've got let's me choose the kind of work I like and can do best.

SF!papyrus: But no one would hire me as a graphic designer, so I fix cars!

Dad: … makes me feel that somebody got to his work or wherever he had to go just because of me. A feeling like that gives me a lot of satisfaction.

SF!papyrus: And makes me, yet again, think of Dick…

Dad: And I am thankful for my newspaper. Just a few sentences and words of printer's ink in paper.

SF!papyrus: It still seems like too much of an expense to print anything from Charles Krauthammer.

Dad: The editor has got the privilege of printing what he thinks and I got the privilege of agreeing with him or not.

SF!papyrus: For instance their questionable use of the term "legitimate rape"…

Dad: And both of us, the editor and I, have the right to act on our opinions on Election Day.

SF!papyrus: No son of mine is gonna share water fountains with albinos!

Dad: And finally…

SF!papyrus: Oh right, this was supposed to be about Thanksgiving…!

Dad: In spite of everything, that somehow someway, the unity we've got here in the Johnson family will someday…

SF!papyrus: My son's name is "Dick Johnson"?

Dad: For all these things we are truly and humbly thankful. Amen…

SF!papyrus: Mazel tov! Mother, I don't want you and neighbors talking about hats anymore! Dick, I'm sorry for the inevitable school-beatings. Baby, we'll come up with a name for you sooner or later! Billy, stop fattening your sister! And remember, this is a Nixon-household! Oh ehm…, THAT'S IT! Our baby's name is Checkers!

*The End*