beatrix bobbit's midnight thanksgiving

Mr. Bobbit was pacing around in squares on the black kitchen tiles. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Judy? This is a very important meal, not a less--"

"Everything's a lesson, Jack, dear! Now, go take a nap with Penny, and soon you'll be awoken to the delightful smells of Thanksgiving."

Mr. Bobbit pivoted on his heels, grunted and left with Penny in his arms. Once in his recliner, he put large headphones over his ears and closed his eyes.

"Alright, girls. Hop to it! Beatrix, the potatoes. Sybil, the pies," Mrs. Bobbit tied her wispy hair back into a bun and donned her favorite yellow floral apron. "The turkey is mine."

"But we're vegetarians now!" Sybil stared at Mrs. Bobbit with wide watering eyes.

"Yep, why can't we have mashed potatoes for the main course?" Beatrix asked as she waved a peeler at a mound of potatoes.

"We're not vegetarians on Thanksgiving. A Thanksgiving with no turkey?! That's preposterous. Your dad would simply not stand for such a thing. Now, Beatrix, dear, perhaps some festive music whilst we work?"

"Fine," Beatrix moaned. Though, she slid across the tile floor to the newly repaired record player and flicked through albums with her wand until she settled on the right one.

They did the Monster Mash

The Monster Mash

"A graveyard smash," Mr. Bobbit mumbled with his eyes half-closed with sleep.

"What? You said festive. You didn't specify which type of festive."

"Beatrix, dear," Mrs. Bobbit sighed, then readjusted her apron and faced the turkey.

Four hours they worked in the kitchen, stuffing, buttering, chopping and mashing. The aroma of cream and spices made Penny abandon her nap with Mr. Bobbit in search of a treat. When at last Mr. Bobbit was stirring, and all the dishes were prepared, Beatrix offered to set the painted dining room table with the heavier items.

"Why, that would be very thoughtful. Thank you, Beatrix, dear," Mrs. Bobbit smiled. She had flour in her hair and on her cheeks.

Beatrix rolled up her sleeve, and flexed her fingers before gripping her twig wand rather tightly. Then, she directed the turkey, the platters of vegetables, the bowls of potatoes and bread and gravy towards the dining room table.

Everything lifted, and paraded out in such a lovely fashion until...

Flour blew into Beatrix's nose causing her to sneeze, and the Thanksgiving feast to crash into the floor.

"Judy, what's happened?" Mr. Bobbit shot up from his chair.

"NOOOOOOOOO," Mrs. Bobbit had collapsed beside her precious Turkey which was oozing herb stuffing and juices all over the black and white tile floor.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Mr. Bobbit flung himself on the floor with Mrs. Bobbit.

"My pies are still good! Let's have pie for dinner! Vegetarianism wins!"

"We can't have pie for dinner, Sybil, dear," Mrs. Bobbit sobbed.

"No more witch nonsense!" Mr. Bobbit muttered, before plucking Penny from the mashed potatoes and ushering Mrs. Bobbit from the room.

Beatrix's eyes welled, but she bit her lip to stop from crying.

"It's okay, Bea. It's not your fault. They're just upset!" Sybil threw her arms around Beatrix, and shoved several bites of pumpkin pie in her mouth. "I'll start cleaning up. You wanna use a spell?"

"No, Sybie. I shouldn't. I need to get some fresh air, I'll be right back. Just eat some pie till I return," Beatrix hung her shoulders and slipped out the back door to the garden. She unfastened her Thanksgiving cloak and let the Witch Hat topple from her head.

The wind swirled at her feet, and hummed in her ears, beckoning her to listen to its tales. Beatrix covered her ears, shouted, "No!" and ran into the forest.

Her feet bounced off of moss as she ducked between groves of fir trees. The wind still whispered in her ear as she leapt across the trickling creek, veering away from the open field with the pond covered in burnt orange leaves, and deeper into the forest. As the tree trunks surrounding her grew rounder and larger than any she'd ever seen, the last light from the sunset went out.

Somewhere along the way, Beatrix had lost her wand. "Oh no," she said just as something flashed at the corner of her eye. Situated between two of the giant tree trunks was a patch of red and white toadstools. The wind was dancing across them, bouncing off the stacked stones that surrounded them.

Beatrix walked closer, drawn to the mysterious mushrooms when they grew tiny hands and lifted themselves out of the dirt.

"What is happening..." Beatrix said.

"Hello!" the tallest mushroom squeaked. It had a red nose and long white hair and was no bigger than Beatrix's hand.

"Uh, hi. I'm Beatrix, who are you?"

"Why, I'm a toadstool right now! Tomorrow, I should like to be a pinecone. Are you a duck?"

"No."

"Owl?" the toadstool scrunched its red nose, and tilted its mushroom capped head.

"No...I'm a witch. Kinda. Or I used to be. It's complicated."

"Ah, indeed," two more toadstools had walked over to where Beatrix now sat in prickly pine needles. They had braided white beards and black eyes bigger than their noses. "We were fish yesterday, but the pond is small, so we thought we'd try something in the forest instead."

"I see. And you can just be anything you want? How does that work?"

"Oh yes, it's lovely. You should try it!" All the toadstools squealed in delight at this.

Beatrix was still puzzled, but had an idea. "Would you like to be Thanksgiving Helpers?"

A mumbling broke out as all the toadstools turned and huddled together. Beatrix held her breath until they turned back, and the white haired mushroom answered, "Will we be fried and eaten or stuffed and baked?"

"No, nothing like that!" Beatrix waved her hands. "I messed up Thanksgiving tonight and ruined everyone's dinner because my magic failed. Well, technically I sneezed and the broken concentration is why it failed. But that doesn't matter. I want to make it up to my family and save Thanksgiving! Will you help me?"

"Yes! Of course!"

"Great! Now, I lost my wand so I can't transport us back to the kitchen. Shall I carry you?"

The toadstools turned and conferred once more in a huddle. When they faced Beatrix this time, they began marching until they circled her in three mushroom capped rows. Then, they began stomping their toadstool feet and kicking up dirt from the ground.

Beatrix coughed as the wind sprayed dirt in her face. Suddenly, her black hair was spinning so fast it stood straight up and and when she blinked and coughed again, she was back in the kitchen with the ruined Thanksgiving still on the floor.

Sybil was perched on the counter with empty pies surrounding her. "Awww, hi mushroom friends!"

"Greetings!" they beamed.

"I enlisted some help to save Thanksgiving," Beatrix smiled sheepishly at Sybil before directing the toadstools into action.

In a snap, the floor was cleared of all fallen food, and the counters filled with fresh vegetables and fruit and cheese. The mushrooms stood atop each other to climb to the food and begin preparing it with no more than a squeak and a wave of their tiny mushroom fingers.

Cauliflower and broccoli were assembled on a platter to resemble a turkey with melted cheese. Red potatoes were peeled and mashed by mushrooms yelling "YIPPEEEE." Green beans were sizzling with cranberries and oranges. Apples were sliced and baked with brown sugar. And mushrooms (not the Thanksgiving helping ones) were fried in gravy and stuffed in a pie while Sybil cheered.

After the food was prepared, and the table set with small green candles and dried leaves, the toadstools turned to Beatrix.

"No no no, I'll just walk it over. I'm not risking another disaster."

"Are you a witch?"

"Of course she's a witch," Mr. Bobbit grunted. His hair and mustache were mussed, but his eyes crinkled warmly. Penny hopped in at his feet, trailed by Mrs. Bobbit in a floral robe and pink fuzzy slippers.

"We're so sorry, Beatrix, dear. It was just dinner, and now look what you've done with your...er...friends?"

"This is where we leave you. Thank you for letting us be Thanksgiving Helpers, Beatrix." And with a final squeak, the toadstools were gone.

Sybil hopped off the counter, and came to stand by Beatrix who was holding out a shaking twig she'd found in her pocket. "You've got this, Bea."

Then Mr. Bobbit and Mrs. Bobbit too came to her side, and grabbed hold of her outstretched arm. On the count of one, two, three, the dishes and platters rose, and paraded slowly towards the dining room table.

When the last dish landed, Sybil and Beatrix and Mrs. Bobbit took their seats, while Mr. Bobbit stood above the broccoli and cauliflower turkey. Before he could carve it, Mrs. Bobbit waved her hands and shouted, "WAIT!"

"What is it, Judy?"

"We have to say what we're thankful for! We may not have a turkey, but we simply must do this, Jack, dear, you first."

Mr. Bobbit grunted, looked down at Penny, "I'm thankful for a vegetarian turkey so Penny can partake. It wouldn't be right for a rabbit to eat meat."

Mrs. Bobbit clapped, "Sybil?"

"I'm thankful for my dance solo in the Holiday Recital."

"Bravo!" Mrs. Bobbit cheered. "I'm thankful for lesson planning, even when they don't turn out as planned."

The owl clock on the wall hooted twelve times then.

"My word! It's midnight?" Mr. Bobbit said, drooling over the steaming dishes. "Quickly, Beatrix."

Beatrix smiled, and flicked her wand to light every candle in the room, "I'm thankful for witch nonsense, and a midnight Thanksgiving."

"Technically, Beatrix, dear, it's no long--"

Mr. Bobbit glared at Mrs. Bobbit then, and began carving cauliflower for Penny.

"Oh, well, never mind. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone."

The Bobbits ate for the next hour, laughing between delicious mouthfuls of potatoes and mushroom pie and baked apples. When they finished, they retired to the garden for the lone remaining dessert pie and hot chocolate, delaying the inevitable clean-up.

"Alright, we simply must clean," Mrs. Bobbit clapped her hands together and stifled an eighteenth yawn.

"Can it not wait, Judy?" Mr. Bobbit was slumped over the bench, half-snoring.

"Up, up!"

Reluctantly, they all followed Mrs. Bobbit inside as she squealed. "Why, the kitchen has never looked this clean before!" Mrs. Bobbit was crouched low on the ground, talking to the toadstools, who had returned.

"Thank you! Now, our Thanksgiving Helper roles are complete. We hope we meet again, someday," the white haired toadstool saluted.

"WAIT!" Mrs. Bobbit yelled. "I must know what you used to get the black and white tile to sparkle!"

But the toadstools were already gone.

"Oh well, this goes to the top of lesson planning for next week, good night girls," Mrs. Bobbit smiled, and shuffled off as Beatrix and Sybil groaned loudly.