Jana's First Thanksgiving

 Jana Gridley, she who fit the colorful nickname of 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.”

  “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 that 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 mean...you mean...it's already Thanksgiving today?" gasped David.

  “That's right, Dave, and the big bird is roasting on the fire right now."

  "But," said David. "There are no turkeys in Pellucidar!”

  "No," grinned Perry. "But there are some pretty large dyals! 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.”

  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 of Ol' Shep, the Golden Retriever given me by Ugly Ursa, the great nephew 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 felt 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 grimaced. "That's very nice of you," I said, "But I don't think those will provide very much of a Thanksgiving meal."

  “Oh," Carter grinned. "I think you'll find these to be the equal of the traditional turkey...and more. These are Malagor wings.”

  Thanksgiving on Amtor

  By Garcon Napkiner

  It had been a good day. I had intimidated my Myposian guard, Yron, with my R-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, with candor, 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.

Tarzan's Three Wishes

  Tarzan, feeling relaxed in his slacks, polo shirt and omtag moccasins, strode into the kitchen of Greystoke Manor, where Jane was sitting at the table, looking over a recipe book.    

  “Would you go out and get me a turkey?" she asked. "Thanksgiving will be here in a couple of days and I need time to get the bird plucked." 

  "Certainly, my dear," said Tarzan. "I'll go change my clothes and be back in just a few minutes." He gave her a kiss on her cheek and went down the hall toward the bedroom.

  Moments later, the ape man, naked but for a loin cloth, dropped lightly from an overhanging tree onto the roof of the turkey shed. He scanned the attached yard where several fat birds wandered, tossed out a few kernels of corn right below his perch, and waited patiently. It wasn't long before two or three turkeys had spotted the repast and scurried over to partake.,

  As one particularly plump Tom made a pig of itself, a lasso dropped around its neck and tightened. Suddenly, the bird felt itself being lifted into the air and, as it flapped its wings and squawked insanely, it was raised to eye level with the grinning ape man.

  "You'll do just fine, Mr. Dinner," said the English Lord, reaching out his free hand toward the bird's stretched neck.

  “Wait! Wait!" said the gobbler. "Don't eat me. I'm a magic turkey. If you let me go, I'll grant you three wishes.”

  Tarzan thought about it and then decided he had nothing to lose by at least "playing the beast's game" for a few minutes.

  “Okay," said Tarzan. "I'd like a supply of poison arrows that never runs out, so I will no longer have to make raids on the cannibal village down the road.”

   "Granted," said the turkey.

  “And," said Tarzan, "I want a lifetime supply of Opar gold in my vault, so I don't have to make those pesky raids on the lost city anymore. Seems like every time I do it, I end up with amnesia and the Waziri are starting to complain about not getting their fair share.”

  "Done," said the turkey.

  “And," Tarzan said, thinking, "I'm not really happy with my voice. I picked up a lot of annoying beastly accents growing up. I'd like to be able to talk with a deeper, more understandable voice, maybe like Johnny Weissmuller or one of those other guys who plays me in the movies.”

  "Your wish is my command," said the turkey.

  Tarzan loosened the lasso and the bird dropped to the dirt below. The ape man figured he could easily snare the creature on another day if the wishes didn't come true. In mere moments, he had another turkey by the neck, gave it a quick flick to break its neck, and headed into the house once again.

  Jane, hands on her hip and tapping her foot, said, "Where in the heck have you been? Your 'few minutes' was more like a half an hour!"

  Tarzan looked annoyed, but decided a few soothing words would mollify her:

  "Turkey run fast," he said.

  “Tarzan catch.”

  "Tarzan kill.

  “Now Jane pluck feathers.”