written by Michelle Nielsen
“...and that is why we have them for dinner every Thanksgiving.” Mother concluded her annual speech to the gathered children. Across the table, Father nodded his approval.
The family stood around the table where three plump carcasses lay, roasted to golden brown perfection, the fragrance from them tantalized the senses. Mother gave Father an irritated glance when she noticed his fixed gaze upon the largest of the entrees. She couldn’t condemn him though. The meal came out perfect.
“Dad got the biggest one, didn’t he?” the youngest son asked. Mother nodded.
“I sure did,” Father said, pride oozed from every word. “Someday I’ll teach you to hunt like that too...” Mother brought him up short with a snort of laughter.
“Dig in everyone,” Mother said with a gesture to the waiting meal, the meat so tender it fell from the bones.
“I heard that the wild ones taste different,” one hesitant child said, looking at the offerings with trepidation.
“It’s true,” said Father, “Because their diet varies...”
“That’s enough,” said Mother as she patted his downy head with her three-fingered hand, “Hush and eat your human.”
In relative peace and harmony, the Velociraptor family descended and fed with gusto.
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