Little something extra inspired by Shatner’s classic Deep Fried Turkey video.
Jim looked up from the contraption he’d set up in their side yard. He was on his hands and knees, inspecting it. He was dressed in old beat up jeans and a yellow plaid flannel shirt. Over that he had a jacket, as, though it was only November, the chill in the air was quite pronounced.
“Perhaps we ought to pre-order our Thanksgiving meal from CJ’s.”
CJ’s was a restaurant in the city nearby that Jim quite liked. They had a sparing amount of vegetarian dishes also. They had been advertising their “Heat-N-Serve” meals since the beginning of the month.
Jim frowned. “CJ’s? Why?”
“You like CJ’s,” Spock reminded him, rather than directly answer.
“I do, yeah. But we can get CJ’s any time. This is special. I want to use this.”
Spock pursed his lips. “But…”
“Bones will appreciate it too.”
“Perhaps then you ought to wait for Doctor McCoy to arrive before you…”
Jim leaned back on his haunches a bit and glared up at Spock. “What are you getting at, Mister?”
“Last year, attempting to deep fry your turkey did not…go well.”
There had been a fire and burns. Both of Jim’s hands had to be bandaged. They were fortunate that was the only part of him burned.
“I’ve learned a lot since then. I won’t do that again.”
“You also like roasted turkey. We could put it in the oven. I can assist.”
“I want a delicious, juicy turkey.” Jim pouted a bit.
“And it will be, roasted in the oven,” Spock assured him. Not that he knew anything about eating turkey. Jim had already made a menu for them that included many vegetarian dishes. Far more than they could get at CJ’s, admittedly.
Jim sighed then. He struggled to his feet. He looked mournfully at the fryer he had obtained after the one from last year burned up. “But what’ll I do with this?”
“Return it?” Spock suggested gently.
“Return it? But…you don’t think I can handle it, do you?”
“I would rather not take the chance, Jim. It was very frightening last year.”
“Fine.” Jim sighed again. “Fine. I don’t want to freak you out.”
“I appreciate that. Come inside. I’ll fix us something warm to drink.”
Jim cast one last glance at the fryer, then went up the steps to follow Spock into the farmhouse.
“How does hot cocoa sound?”
Jim’s steps faltered. “Coco? Does that mean…”
Spock smiled slightly. “Yes. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Jim grinned. “Feeling better already.”