Thanksgiving

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“Good man, where might I find your nearest mooring dock?”

“No mooring dock.”

“What about the nearest deep harbour?”

“We use canoes. They’re big, but the shoals do for us. Sure, our feet get a little torn up on the rocks and the shallow pools teem with clams. One little clam took the toe off the Chief. It was a really bad day for…”

“About that deep harbour…”

“No harbour. Like I said, we use canoes. You pale-skins aren’t that bright, are you?”

“Okay, how about some food. The passengers are just family folk. A few sick. A real meal would help their spirits.”

“Are any of them on the heavy side?”

“Heavy? You mean fat?”

“Well, more meaty than fat, really.”

“We’ve been on a boat for months. We’re all pretty gaunt.”

“Hmmm. Maybe they’ll make nice stew then.”

“Stew?”

“Yup. Pale-skin Stew. Sounds better and better the more I think about it.”

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