"...and I'm thankful for Minecraft and for not having school today or tomorrow, and for dessert, and for YouTube, and for—" "That's wonderful, Harry, thank you." Evelyn smiled broadly around the table at her husband and children. "And now, let's—"

"I'm thankful, too," came a burbling voice. Everyone looked at Jenna, the jokester, but she shrugged and shook her head. Their eyes came to rest on the heaping bowl of mashed potatoes, quivering slightly.

"I'm thankful," continued the potatoes, "for broadening awareness of plants' ability to communicate health and well-being through ultrasound."

"Yeah," burbled the baked, buttered yams. "I'm thankful for that, too."

"For my part," rustled the green beans, "I'm more thankful for the sun, and for the last year of sunshine. Really helped my quality of life. Well, y'know, for most of it." The stuffing murmured agreement.

"Not me," came an echoing voice. The family's eyes turned to the great roast turkey, as yet uncarved in the center of the table. "My life wasn't all that great. The thing I'm most thankful for is the sharp blade and the accurate swing." The other dishes murmured condolences or platitudes, suddenly feeling awkward.

Naturally, the family fled the table, screaming.