Thanksgiving Storyteller

We have nearly finished gorging. Talk is desultory and largely focused on gastric distention. The boys are still swallowing, but even they are slowing down. The turkey remains are a raggedy tangle of bones and skin. Frank, the patriarch, is winkling a nugget off the the far side with the carving fork.
“This reminds me – did I tell you about my truck?” he inquires of the turkey.
“More beans?” asks his wife Alice, who has heard about the truck. “Alex? Benj? Helen? There’s lots of squash left. And potatoes. There’s more gravy in the kitchen. Are there any cranberries left?” No takers.
“It all started back in early October with a little clicking.” Frank proceeds, a bit louder so as to be heard over Alice’s desperate offers. “I thought it was something in the heater or the cooling system. Intermittent thing, you know. I would’ve let it go except with winter coming, I wanted it to be in good shape. Well, the best shape you can expect from an old truck anyway, heheheh. Well anyway I took it into the garage next to my office…”
“Could I get the gravy?” whispers Frank’s youngest, Alex, pointing at the jug next to my elbow which is firmly planted in a congealed puddle of the stuff, I now discover. I pass it across the table.
“…and got the mechanic to look at it and he told me the engine was gone – wouldn’t make it through the month, much less the winter. Told me what I needed was a new engine. Well, of course, for such a major repair I wanted to get a second opinion,…”
Helen catches Alice’s’s eye, and asks, sotto voce, if she could get her recipe for that wonderful snow pudding she makes at Christmas.
“…so I took it into the GM dealer and they put it up on the hoist and had a look and told me sure enough the engine was shot,”
“Actually, it’s not my recipe – Maggie brings it – it is nice isn’t it?”
“…cylinders so badly worn no amount of new rings and reboring would help. So I took it back to the garage next to the office to save myself a few bucks on labor,…”
Alex turns to Benj, who works at Killington. “Have they opened the east slope yet?”
“…and they got a reconditioned engine and put it in. Well, a week later, I was driving around town and it just stopped. Just stopped.”
Helen flags down Maggie at the other end of the table and puts her request.
“A brand new engine and it just stopped. Well you may be sure I mentioned this to the garage and they came and got it.”
“Yeah, we’ve been making snow every night this week, and there’s some natural snow too – really good shape,” replies Benj.
“No delays. And agreed to fix it, whatever the problem might have been, and quite right too. A new engine!”
“Of course,” says Maggie “it’s not a family secret or anything, haha. Just give me your address and I’ll mail it to you.”
“So they got it up on the hoist and found something wrong with the fuel pump. Pulled it off and were about to put on new connectors…”
Alex turns to me: “So I hear you’re taking courses up at UVM?”
“…when somebody 2 bays down, who was repairing an exhaust system, fired up a welding torch…”
“Thanks,” says Helen, patting down her pockets looking for a notebook. “I’ll find a piece of paper after dinner.”
“…lighting off the gas that had dribbled out of the fuel pump and lighting off a bonfire underneath my engine…”
“Well, don’t know about multiple courses, but I have found one that looks interesting.”
“…that rose from the floor up through the engine compartment completely destroying all non-metallic parts…”
“Are you finished Alex?” asks Alice.
“…and causing a mess that defies description. All the hoses and plastic fluid tanks, wiring harnesses…”
“Yeah, I’m pretty well done – why?” asks Alex warily.
“…everything melted and oozing down onto the floor. First I knew of it I came back to the office and saw the fire engines out front…”
Maggie, over by a side table, has scrabbled a pad and pencil out of a drawer. “Hand this to Helen, would you?” she passes it down the table.
“…and I thought the fire department had come to get their truck fixed or something, but then I smelled the burning plastic and spotted the smoke…”
“Could you clear off the plates down at that end of the table? Maybe Benj’ll help you. Thanks.” Says Alice, beginning to collect dishes up at her end.
“…and so I went over there and that’s when I found out that it was my truck that had been incinerated. Lordy what a mess.”
Benj picks up my plate and the leftover carrots and sidles out toward the kitchen. “You were done, right?” he smiles over his shoulder.
“Of course there was no question that the garage will fix the mess. Of course my office is right next door so the guy knows I’m a lawyer…”
Helen writes her address on the pad and passes it back to Maggie. “I really love that pudding – perfect after a big meal.”
“…and there’s some advantage in that, and I hope nobody tells him the closest I get to a courtroom is a title search…”
I peer up the table at Maggie. “While you’re at it, could you dash off a copy for me too?”
“…but still there are so many little bits and pieces he needs to find and get there’s no telling when I will actually get the truck back.”
Chairs scrape. Everybody lumbering to their feet, groaning with pangs of overeating. “Sorry about your truck,” I murmur to Frank on my way to the kitchen with the leftover cranberries.