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Volume 7474

By John Martin

"I don't feel like cooking a bird this year," said Jane. "Why don't we just eat out and let the Waziri fend for themselves."

"Well, that means no leftovers and I do enjoy cold turkey sandwiches afterward," said Tarzan. "But that's okay. Let's try that new place in Nairobi."


"Yes," said Tarzan, "Kenya Fried Turkey. "I like their plaintain pudding."

"That's fine," said Jane. "As long as I don't have to cook. And Tarzan....."

"Yes dear?"

"I understand that you'll miss your cold turkey, but I've a surprise for you. There's a big Tom in the pen out back."

Tarzan smiled. "Raw turkey! Even better."

By Edgar Rice Bridges
I was enjoying my solitary holiday getaway in my cabin on the Little Colorado. The night air was chilly but I stretched out my slippered feet toward the fire and placed them on the back on Ol' Shep, the Golden Retriever given me by Ugly Ursa, the great niece of the Black Bear.

Shep groaned briefly, then adjusted his body and once again closed his eyes.

As I sat, enjoying the warmth, my Disney Tarzan quilt spread over my legs, I suddenly heard the sound of the wind and a chilling blast hit my back. I turned to see who had come in and immediately forgot my discomfort and annoyance at the intrusion.

"John Carter!" I smiled.

"Hello Uncle," he said. "I hope you don't mind. It's a little difficult to warn you in advance of my arrival times when you don't have the Gridley shortwave available. But I miss America's Thanksgiving holiday. We don't have any such celebration on Barsoom and so I thought I'd drop in on you and join you for a meal."

"You're entirely welcome, anytime," I said. "But I'm afraid all I have in the cupboard is Pork 'n' Beans and hardtack. There might be a can or two of Spam in the lower cupboard."

"No problem at all," said Carter. "I brought the main dish myself! A couple of wings!

"I could go for a bucket of buffalo wings," I said, reaching for a frying pan.

“You're going to need a cauldron," Carter said. "These are malagor wings.”

By Garcon Napkiner
It had been a good day. I had intimidated my guard, Yron, with my T-ray pistol after killing three of the guypals, and now it was nighttime, when guypals don't fly, and we were back in the slave compound enjoying roast guypal, which was quite a change from the slop we were usually fed.

"We can give thanks that you are among us," said Kandar, although it was difficult to look at him when he spoke as Amtorian manners are different from those of earthmen and he was talking with his mouth full.

"Speaking of giving thanks," I said, "In my native country we have a whole day devoted to this kind of feasting. We call it Thanksgiving."

"You have a whole day to eat guypal?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well, we don't have guypal, so we eat a different creature, called turkey. And we can eat it anytime but it's sort of a tradition to eat it at Thanksgiving."

"Well, if you can keep them from taking your gun away, we can have a steady diet of these guypal," said Kandar.

"It's nourishing," I agreed, "and provides a supply of most daily vitamins. But there's one thing I don't like about it."

I turned my head so I wouldn't have to see into Kandar's mouth when he answered. "What's that?" he asked.

"It has a distinctive polywog whang," I said.

By Dian the Dutiful
"I'm so excited about Thanksgiving," said Abner Perry, rubbing his belly.

“But Abner," said David Innes. "There's no Thanksgiving in Pellucidar.”

“You mean wasn't," smiled Perry. "But don't forget that I'm an inventor, Dave. And I've decided to invent Thanksgiving here.”

“But Thanksgiving is on a specific day of the year," David reminded him. "And there are no separate days in Pellucidar. No separate years either, for fhat matter.”

"And your point is?" said Perry.;

“Well, you can't say Thanksgiving is tomorrow, or next week, or next month or anything like that because those kinds of time divisions don't exist here.”

“You're getting warm, Dave," said Perry. "Ponder it a little bit more and you'll see the way this will work.”

"You's already Thanksgiving today?" gasped David.

“That's right, Dave. And the turkey, or at least the Dyal, the Pellucidarian equivalent, is roasting on the fire right now. Think of it, Dave...think of it...It's always Thanksgiving now, so we'll have a Thanksgiving dinner for every meal.”

“Abner, old friend," said David. "You're a genius.”

By Thoar the Thankful One
Jana Gridley, who was commonly known as The Red Flower of Zoram during her years of maturation in Pellucidar, finished whipping the cream for the fruit salad that would be served at dinner that afternoon. It was an exciting time -- her very first Thanksgiving.

Jason walked in from the living room and patted her shoulder and gave her a smooch. "Everything about ready, Darling?" he asked. "I think I hear the guests driving up now."

"We are ready and raring," she said, smiling at one of the catch-phrases she had learned after coming to the outer crust. She was proud of the knowledge she had accumulated about the ways of civilization since she'd agreed to marry Jason and return with Tarzan and the others.

Jason went to open the front door and admit the guests while Jana hurriedly brought various dishes out to the table, which was covered with a fine linen cloth and set with the good China that Captain Zuppner had given them as a wedding gift.

When Jason had seated the guests, it was time for the grand entrance of Jana with the piece de resistance, the golden brown roast turkey. But Jana gasped in horror as she saw the pink, cold flesh of the great bird and realized it was not cooked at all. She started bawling uncontrollably and Jason rushed in, asking, "What on outer Earth's the matter, dear?"

“It's the turkey," she sobbed. "It didn't get cooked. It's still raw. Thanksgiving is ruined.”

“I'm sorry, babe," said Jason. "I should have told you to cook it the regular way, in the oven, instead of the microwave.”

“The microwave?" asked Jana. "Oh. I thought you said to use the Gridley Wave.”

Tarzan caught the scent of wild turkey. "Ah," he thought. "That reminds me it's nearly Thanksgiving."

He raced through the middle terraces. At last he stood on a branch and surveyed the scene in the clearing below, then jumped down.

"Hey, Bubba, who's that?" exclaimed one of the redneck white hunters sitting on an ice chest in front of his camouflage safari tent.

“I'm Tarzan of the Apes," the Jungle Lord announced. "I come because I followed the spoor of wild turkey.”

"Well, why dontcha enjoy some southern hospitality," drawled the redneck, breaking the seal and unscrewing the lid of a new bottle. He reached for another glass.

“We're happy to share our Wild Turkey with you this Thanksgiving.”

For what seemed like hours, Tarzan had leaped from limb to limb in the middle terrace on the type of mission he would undertake only at the whim of his alluring mate, Jane. "We need some big leaves," she had told him, and no sooner had she spoken than he had leaped to the sill of the open window in the Greystoke bungalow and taken to the trees. He knew of only one tree in the jungle which sported the big leaves, the Large Liana Laden Lollapalooza Tree. Now, at last, he had reached the sheer escarpment where the trees grew and succeeded in plucking not one, but several, of the huge green things the size of elephant ears.

It was late in the evening when he returned, only to find a frowning Jane sitting in the bamboo chair, her arms folded, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Where have you been?" she demanded. "The Waziri got here right after you left and we couldn't wait so we went ahead and ate all the turkey and trimmings without you. I had to put one of our guests to work opening the closet and getting out those extra leaves for our Thanksgiving table.”

Tarzan, Jane and Meriem were dressed in their formal attire for their annual Thanksgiving dinner at Greystoke Manor, deep in the jungle.

Korak was standing, his left hand holding a two-pronged fork which immobilized the turkey, and his right wielding the hunting knife of his long-dead grandfather, newly sharpened and borrowed from his father for this occasion.

Jane smiled at Korak, then turned to her husband and asked, "White meat or dark meat, dear?"

Deer? Her husband's thoughts immediately envisioned a freshly slain Bara, drenched in the blood of the kill.

Then, he replied to his wife: “What, no red meat?”

“Aw Dad," said Korak. "Just smear some cranberry sauce on it.”

“Great idea!" said Tarzan. "Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!”


Sabor showed up with a freshly killed turkey
This was the real thing -- not a tasteless tofurkey!

Numa the lion was watching the game,
As leopards eyed eland for one that was lame.

The cubs were at play in a wrestling match,
Waiting for mom to say, "Eat! Down the hatch!"

She plopped the big bird in the midst of the pride.
It was turkey or nothing; no dish on the side.

She made sure the family was looking her way,
Then bowed her great head and said, "Let us prey."

Numa rose slowly from out of his lair,
And took a huge bite for his male lion's share.

Then mama and cubbies took turns at the rest,
The cubs winding up with a wishbone to test.

Then all hit the hay, from cubbies to Pap,
The tryptophan working to prompt them to nap.

But before drifting off, a roar from the king
Said "I wish everyone a Great Fangsgiving."


The ERB fans were gathered for Thanksgiving dinner;
With such a great group, it would be a real winner.
The J.A.N.E.S. in the kitchen were roasting the bird,
While off in the book room excitement was heard:
The fellow whose home was the scene of the feast
Had a hairpiece once worn by a Martian high priest.
This guy bought it all; he couldn't resist!
He was the ultimate ERB completist.
Some fans were ogling his nice McClurg jackets,
While others were oohing at old ECOF packets.
The TV was on but, no game on the screen,
Instead, it was Tarzan, with Casper Van Dien.
One guest was an artist, a fellow named Boris,
Drawing each fan posed beside Dejah Thoris.
Thomas Yeates, and some pals played a new Burroughs ballad,
While out in the kitchen the gals mixed fruit salad.
"This salad reminds me," one said to her peers,
"Of how our men have enjoyed ERB for years.
"Some guys are a peach, but each needs his 'nana,
"The variety's like it is on the savanna.
"Some buy stuff in pears (two's better than one),
“Some are just nuts, but they're still lots of fun.”
Dinner is served! All rushed to the spread,
Ah, the smell of the turkey! The freshly baked bread!
The host carved the turkey, in loin cloth attire,
Using the knife of his long-deceased sire.
All were so thankful, for stuff that transcends,
The doodads are temporal, but ever are friends!
--John Martin

Jane had just stepped down from the witness stand, somewhat embarrassed about how Esteban had fooled her into thinking he was actually her husband, Tarzan, but she was determined to get him put away once and for all after he had escaped the clutches of Obebe the cannibal.

Tarzan was next to testify. It annoyed him that Esteban had gotten permission to represent himself and Tarzan wasn't sure he could keep his hands from around the impostor's throat when it came time for Esteban to cross-examine him.

Guided by the prosecuting attorney, Tarzan recounted the story of how Esteban had tried to take his place, even in the affections of his wife, to rob the treasure vaults of Opar, of which Tarzan himself was the sole agent for the residents of the Lost City.

When Tarzan had finished, Esteban rose from the counsel chair on the defendant's side of the courtroom and approached the bench with a smirk on his face.

"Your honor," he said. "This trial has been a farce and, in fact, is illegal. Evidence has been given of things I said to the parties concerned in the course of this crime they claim I have committed. But there's one little detail they forgot." He turned to Tarzan. "Did you Mirandize me?" he asked.

Tarzan slapped his forehead. Of all the things to forget, he had interrogated Esteban without first warning him that anything he said could be used against him.
"Uh, no, not specifically," said Tarzan.

"Not at all, you mean," sneered Esteban. "Your honor, you have just heard Tarzan -- the duly appointed constable for the lands over which he has dominion - admit that he did not follow proper procedures in Mirandizing Miranda, meaning me. I respectfully submit that all charges be dismissed."

"Mr. Miranda, you present a compelling argument," said the judge. "Therefore, I find myself compelled to agree with you." He slapped his gavel onto his bench. "Case dismissed," he said.

"Wait, your honor," said Tarzan. "We do have another witness in this matter."

"Very well," said the judge. "I'll stay my decision momentarily, but this better be good."

The door to the courtroom opened and a tall native entered, clad in a stinking loin cloth, numerous baubles about his wrists, an elaborate headdress of feathers and colored cloth, a bone through his nose, and sharply filed teeth.

"Your honor," said Tarzan. "This is Obebe, the cannibal, in whose filthy hut Esteban was chained for several months."

"We Mirandize him all right, your honor," said Obebe. "We also planning to do more. We want to mutilate him, mince him, macerate him, marinate him and then masticate him. In short, we ask that custody of Esteban be returned to my tribe."

"Sounds fair enough," said the judge, bringing down his gavel again. "So ordered."


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