Twenty-Six: In Which Klaus Nears Dangerous Levels of Fatherly Sap
[Phone]
I must admit to being somewhat disappointed. Despite the usual slew of phone calls pointing out how obvious a trap this is, I have yet to see any evidence. Furthermore, my turkey has proved remarkably boring. I was expecting something at least as interesting as last year, but I suppose an infinite turkey loop was just too difficult for Mayfield to craft on short notice.
[There's a small pause.]
Now, this holiday does not exist where I am from; the concept of giving thanks is understandably difficult for a country of self-obsessed madmen to grasp. I would like to think, however, that being in Mayfield for over a year has made me somewhat less self-obsessed, even if its effects on my madness have been negligible.
I am grateful for my sons, the one that I fathered and the ones I have come to regard as part of my family since arriving here. I am grateful for their, if not forgiveness, at least understanding for my many faults. I was given a second chance here in terms of raising a son according to his needs rather than my plans, and I am grateful for that.
I am only sorry that it took a place like Mayfield to show me how badly I had been doing before.
[Residents of 729 Anderson, your turkey has been dissected. Carved. Whatever. Same thing, really. Klaus won't be eating any because he's not stupid and just because it's not coming alive or full of spiders doesn't mean it's not dangerous, but you're welcome to some. Waffles are clearly superior anyway. Waffles and alcohol? Doubly so. Who knew Klaus got sappy instead of getting tipsy?]
I must admit to being somewhat disappointed. Despite the usual slew of phone calls pointing out how obvious a trap this is, I have yet to see any evidence. Furthermore, my turkey has proved remarkably boring. I was expecting something at least as interesting as last year, but I suppose an infinite turkey loop was just too difficult for Mayfield to craft on short notice.
[There's a small pause.]
Now, this holiday does not exist where I am from; the concept of giving thanks is understandably difficult for a country of self-obsessed madmen to grasp. I would like to think, however, that being in Mayfield for over a year has made me somewhat less self-obsessed, even if its effects on my madness have been negligible.
I am grateful for my sons, the one that I fathered and the ones I have come to regard as part of my family since arriving here. I am grateful for their, if not forgiveness, at least understanding for my many faults. I was given a second chance here in terms of raising a son according to his needs rather than my plans, and I am grateful for that.
I am only sorry that it took a place like Mayfield to show me how badly I had been doing before.
[Residents of 729 Anderson, your turkey has been dissected. Carved. Whatever. Same thing, really. Klaus won't be eating any because he's not stupid and just because it's not coming alive or full of spiders doesn't mean it's not dangerous, but you're welcome to some. Waffles are clearly superior anyway. Waffles and alcohol? Doubly so. Who knew Klaus got sappy instead of getting tipsy?]