On Thanksgiving, budding Hollywood, and disappearing potatoes

Ninja Squirt

SQUIRT: MOM! Push the button!

BONNIE: I did! You’re on. Do your thing!

SQUIRT: Arrrrgh! MOM! You’re ruining EVERYTHING.

(puts down the ninja sword, walks up to the camcorder, hits the PAUSE button)

BONNIE: What? There’s no such thing as editing? You don’t believe in blooper reels?

SQUIRT: (sighs heavily, runs back to his mark and gets into position)  Okay. NOW.

(Bonnie pushes button)

SQUIRT: HEH, HEH, HEH! HI YAH!   (lunges at neighbor kid Bob)


SQUIRT: (freezes in an attack position, looks over at his mom)   MOM! Push the button!

BONNIE: All right! Jeez. You know, you could just say “Cut!”

BOB: I screamed like a girl, just like you said. You want me to do it over?

SQUIRT: No. You were fine.   (looks pointedly at his mother)


Meet Squirt, who is all set to be the next Steven Spielberg&#8212if his annoying camera crew doesn’t finish him off with an attack of Gross Exasperation.

He’s making this movie for his Japanese class. It’s about a burrito-loving ninja who hides behind trees and under the van and talks to a picture of Chuck Norris. The ninja also unexplicably turns into a pirate at one point before returning to ninja form to make gnarly burritoes in hyper-speed. Since it’s all in Japanese I’m a little unclear on the plot.

He’s editing it now. Meanwhile, back in the Wren Cocina, our turkey is in the oven. Twenty-four pounds! That should last us, what? Twenty minutes—unless the boys improve on their technique from last year.

Hubby and Tiger are out, buying more potatoes because the ones I bought a few days ago mysteriously disappeared. I was going to substitute with sweet potatoes but the outcry was so great you would’ve thought I was selling our national holiday out to Satanists, or something.

I’ve carefully examined Squirt’s movie footage (the stuff I didn’t take) for evidence of potato cannons, but the boy is clean.

So I’m taking this waiting-for-potatoes opportunity to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving!

Be thankful, eat hearty, help clean the kitchen afterward, and at all times… keep an eye out for the ninjas. The ones with camcorders are especially dangerous.

12 Replies to “On Thanksgiving, budding Hollywood, and disappearing potatoes”

  1. Duly noted. šŸ™‚ I think the ninjas that might be otherwise be hovering around here are staying indoors due to the copious rain we’re having. Such fun. NOT!

    Happy Turkey Day!

  2. Now now. You know what happened to the potatoes. EVERYONE who reads your blog knows what happened to your potatoes.

    Does Mojo take sour cream and onions on his potatoes? Or does he just abscond with them, haul the bag out to the back yard, and gnaw on them to his little doggy heart’s content? At least he’s gnawing on something that (a) is MEANT to be gnawed on and (b)is healthy. šŸ™‚

    Happy Turkey Day!

  3. Dishes washed, pie consumed, dogs are content with treats. Rain is falling and I hear a turkey sandwich calling while a Noodle-y kitten tries to climb up my legs.

    For once there were potatoes left over but many groans were heard. Poker started and laughter fell as fast as my uncle was culled from the game.

    Wishing you and yours a great day, a fun Ninja film experience and a fast/simple clean up.

  4. I remember being part of an Indiana Jones spoof in high school. I was the only one who had a sword, so I got to be the fierce, sword weilding, turban wearer who threatens Indiana and then gets shot. We filmed it at a local park. I was in full costume, sword in hand, waiting for the film crew to show up. They never did. They changed plans and cut my part and never had the decency to even let me know.

    I was so depressed that I ate 6 donuts in one sitting and cried off and on for three days.

    So be gentle with Squirt, filming can be immensely stressful for the sensitive artist!

  5. Thanks for all the compliments. I can’t say I’m that dedicated of a writer, just trying to win one of the cool prizes from Fussy and NaBloPoMo. I’m a prize woman of the night. ha ha

Leave a Reply