It was Thanksgiving 1995 and I was living in Menasha WI (Neenah's ugly little sister) a hillbilly triplex hovel on the northern tip of lake Winnebago.

First, a word about my “house” I was dating a girl named Kimberly (who ironically was from Kimberly WI.) when I received a contract from Kimberly Clark (ironically, not located in Kimberly) paper company, to work in their lab. I asked Kimberly (the girl, not the company) to find me an apartment, as I was living in Tucon AZ at the time.

She got back to me a week later and said, “I found a quaint little 2 bedroom place on an island! It's on the tip of lake Winnebago in Menasha!” I was dumbfounded! An island?! A Lake?? After all I was living in a Mexi-duplex in the middle of a desert!

A “quaint, two bedroom, on an island” sounded great!! Well, it sounded like paradise!!

So I packed everything I owned into a mint condition 1976 Dodge Interceptor (which I intended to sell whence I got it to the rust belt) and headed to my Menasha paradise! I was knocked off the road by a dipshit in a storm while in Joplin MO. And the car was pretty much totaled. But that is another funny story.

I eventually made it to Menasha with everything I owned and was searching for my “paradise”. I drove past a shit hole with the correct address three times before I realized it was my “paradise”.

So, as far as the adage “sounds too good to be true” goes. Yes, yes it's true... My “quaint, two bedroom, on an island place” was actually a tiny triplex hillbilly hovel located on a man made isthmus.

True, it was on the northern tip of lake Winnebago. But my door and patio (deck comprised of pallets and 2x4's) faced a narrow, smelly, man made creek that fed lake water to the Menasha Water Filtration Pond. The pond was green and smelled of poop. Plus it had flies and rats.

Not paradise.

However, I had already rented the place because Kimberly made it sound SO nice. So I moved all of my stuff in. It's hard to believe that items smashed into a partially totaled '76 Dodge Interceptor could fill an 2 bedroom hovel... But it happened.

The place had 6 ½ foot ceilings with a rough textured ceiling paint that would remove the skin from my knuckles each and every time I put on a shirt.

My portion of the hovel was placed upon a concrete slab, which had been hastily added by what appeared to be partially trained monkeys. It was obviously not up to code, yet by Menasha standards suitable for living.

To make matters worse, I found out Kimberly (again, the girl – not the company) was already dating someone else when I moved into the hillbilly triplex hovel.

To make maters worse, I was much better looking back then and it was quite the blow to my ego. Even worse than that, she was dating a chick... Not a good looking chick... anyway...

Depression set in... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, back to Thanksgiving!!

Mom and Pops had asked if they could come up for Thanksgiving. It had been a tradition to have Thanksgiving at my house, since it is basically a “food and football” related holiday. Plus I am a pretty good cook.

Besides, the prior years toufurkey had not been great (or edible) at my sisters place. So having the meal at my house seemed like a great idea!

I had not seen my folks since I moved back to Wisconsin and as far as they knew I was living in a “quaint 2 bedroom place on a god damn island”!

I had explained to them that is was triplex hillbilly hovel, but they thought I was “being dramatic”. Anyway, I thought it would be fun to see them and show off the hovel.

So, I bought the turkey and all the fixings!
14 pound bird
green bean casserole stuff
bottle of wine
case of PBR 
gin 
vodka 
whiskey
4 potatoes
tonic water 
apple pie 

I started to prepare everything a few days before they arrived and everything was going smoothly. Everything was prepped and ready to cook. 

The trouble aroused whence I attempted to place the bird in the oven. 

Seems I had not measured the bird and it was too big for my oven... I should explain the kitchen was the size of a small closet and the oven looked like an EZ Bake oven my sisters had when we were little (that I melted a GI Joe in) I tried like hell to get the turkey in the oven, I lowered the grates and moved the bird around.

None of it helped. Mind you, this was 7 am and I was hungover. (As was the style of the time). 

So in an act of frustration, I beat that turkey within an inch of its already passed life - I squeezed it and sat on it, I pushed it and punched it. Eventually, it fit! 

Once the bird was in, I decided it was safe to shower and such. I was wrong. While I was showering I heard a shrieking smoke alarm going off blaring, which I totally ignored. After a few minutes, I came out of the shower to find the hovel thick with smoke. 

I walked into the kitchen to see black smoke bellowing out of the “oven”. Seems I had dislodged the heating element of the oven and it had fallen on the damn bird. Thus searing and setting it ablaze. 

I pried it out of the oven with the towel I had been wearing and then it landed with a thud on the floor. From behind me I heard a female voice asking “is everything ok?”, seems my vigilant nosy neighbor let herself in when she saw the smoke. I calmly shouted, “sure, everything is fine!”... even though I was standing naked above a flaming , blackened turkey. 

Oddly enough, she never came over again... 

Once I was able to put out the flames and clear some of the smoke I checked the condition the the bird. It was not good... The outer portion was black and the center of the bird was raw as raw could be. I attempted to put the oven back together, but that was a shot in the dark after 6 beers. 

So I sliced the raw turkey up and decided to pan fry it! Seemed logical... 

I turned up “heating surface” of my EZ Bake oven and it would NOT work! I panicked and looked to start up the grill, but realized I had no charcoal... plus I had no way to cook the rest of the crap, which was sitting on my counter.... 

I knocked on the neighbors doors but no one was home. I jumped in the car and drove to the Piggly Wiggly, only to find it closed. Basically, I was screwed... 

When my folks arrived I explained the whole experience in great detail... 

Then my Pops asked “what the hell are we going to eat?” 

So I treated them to a Chinese dinner in a strip mall – Which was pretty damn good.