I cant believe it--I forgot to post my American Pie Thanksgiving parody for Thanksgiving this year! Well, here it is, a little late but still just as festive. MRS. SOMEBODYS BRIDE (to the tune of American Pie by Don McLean) Oh, once upon a time It was in November Turkey Day, it used to make me drool And I hoped if the roads were clear To Grannys house, wed go this year But fickle fate can sometimes be so cruel Cause on that day I did awaken To find the honor had been taken By somebodys new bride The turkey, it would be fried I grabbed my stomach, horrified When I heard about this novice bride And wondered what wed put inside The day Thanksgiving died So hi, hi, Mrs. Somebodys Bride I hear youre cooking, so Im looking For a good place to hide Im just a kid, so I can be cutely snide Hopin this wont be the day that I died This wont be the day that I died Did she learn to cook in hell Did she have to torture the bird as well Is her cookbook by DeSade? Do you believe food can be damned Can prayer save these candied yams And can you tell me why it smells so odd? Well, I know that youre in love with her Cause I saw you eatin food with fur You both are off your nuts Man, you must have cast-iron guts I was a happy little bouncin tyke With a big dalmation and a mini-bike But I wanted to take a hike The day Thanksgiving died I started singin Fie, fie this inedible pie I made some jerky from the turkey Cause the turkey was dry And Uncle Roy thinks its risky to try Sayin Thisll be the day that I diet Thisll be the day that I diet Now for hours Ive gnawed on this bone The mashed potatoes are like stone And you dont want to see the peas When their puppy tasted the turnip greens In a fit he ate some magazines And he washed em down with anti-freeze Oh, and while the dog was in this groove I swear I saw the turkey move It wasnt really dead Or was that in my head? And while everyone still struggled on I excused myself to use the john And ate some crabgrass from the lawn The day Thanksgiving died We were singin Why, why did your cooking we try I started heavin, disbelievin But the heavin was dry And Uncle Roy started eyein a fly Dreamin Thats a corned beef sandwich on rye Thats a corned beef sandwich on rye Heady, sweaty, was the creamed spaghetti The gravy wasnt quite table-ready And the dressing was undressed The fiendish fowl on the plate Was daring us to masticate I wished it was in Kuwait, in a nest The aroma in that dining room Reminded me of The Mummys Tomb My mind began to reel As the wallpaper started to peel And I wondered if a poke would yield What the sauce on all those lumps concealed Do you recall how it congealed The day Thanksgiving died I started thinkin My, my, is this my last goodbye Guess Im beaten, is it cheatin To be eatin my tie Though grown-up boys think its sissy to cry Wish a missiled hit the house and wed fry A missiled hit the house and wed fry Oh, and so we ate that ghastly feast That was unfit for man or beast With nothing left to take its place So come on: Granny save us, Granny please Whip us up some blackeyed peas Cause this would have the devil sayin grace Oh, and as we pounded down each bite My stomach trying to take flight Not even ninety pounds Could hold that turkey down And as the bile climbed high into my throat I tasted something akin to goat I heard the fat ladys final note The day Thanksgiving died We started heavin High, high, almost reachin the sky I was strainin and restrainin But my drainin was nigh And Uncle Roy staggered back with a sigh Sayin This must be how elephants die This must be how elephants die And all into the afternoon We were heaving like the last typhoon Even the bride was lookin green And to the bathroom I was drawn The toilet queue was ten yards long It had to be the biggest mess Id ever seen And huddled round the bowl like monks We were gagging up and blowing chunks But not a word was uttered While the French toast went unbuttered And the people that I most enjoy My mom, my dad, and Uncle Roy They finally rescued this poor boy The day Thanksgiving died So now we Fly, fly back to home in Van Nuys To grab a sandwich, make some Manwich In each hand a fried pie And Uncle Roy, with a tear in his eye Says I dont care if I blow up and die Dont care if I blow up and die So, bye-bye, Mrs. Somebodys Bride Take a shovel to your hovel And the rubble inside We tried your cooking and we all almost died Whats left over should be buried in lye
Posted on: Sat, 29 Nov 2014 02:19:35 +0000
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