1. Apple: I will eat 35% of the apple pie because it is as American as me. I am very patriotic. I know all the words to The Star Spangled Banner, almost bought a red, white, and blue bathing suit when I was nine, and have sat through the movie The Patriot in several required U.S. History classes. Eating this apple pie is the least I can do for my country. Seriously, there is no activity I can do that will have a lesser effect on the well-being of the United States. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty goddamn American to me.
2. Cranberry Pandowdy: You can barely see the slice of the pie chart which represents the Cranberry Pandowdy. You know why? A pandowdy is not a pie. It is a cross between a pie and a cobbler. I will eat a bite of it because I am polite, and then I will slap you in the face for bringing a pandowdy. Thanksgiving = pie. Don’t fuck around.
3. Pecan: I am going to eat about 20% of the pecan pie. After many notarized letters of warning from my dentist, I arrived at this number. It’s a reasonable amount. That is especially true considering pecan pie is made of ground up pecans, sugar, powdered sugar, sugar substitute, cane sugar, agave, candy, and emulsified elf bones, which — strangely enough — are composed of 100% sugar.
4. Pizza: Don’t worry about the percentage. That’s just for my pre-Thanksgiving breakfast. You don’t run a marathon without warming up.
5. Sweet Potato Pie: Before I eat about 8% of the entire sweet potato pie, I’m going to write it a song. I’m going to put on an oversized flannel shirt, cargo shorts, a leather motorcycle jacket, and tortoise shell glasses. Then I will bring the sweet potato pie to an open mic where I will serenade it like an early 90s folk artist. I’m going to rhyme the words “destiny,” “quivering,” and “purple”; don’t ask me how. The song will have Chicago Manual of Style citations. They will revive Lilith Fair solely to provide an adequate venue for this song. Pies love this kind of shit. After all of this, the sweet potato pie will just climb into my mouth and beg to be eaten. I will oblige.
6. Pumpkin: With pumpkin pie, I’m playing the long game. For the past two years I have been telling everyone how much I hate pumpkin pie. Recently, I have even been stepping things up. In October, someone brought pumpkin pie to a dinner party and I threw it out of a second story window. It wasn’t even my dinner party, nor was I invited, so as you can imagine this really sent a message. The truth is I fucking love pumpkin pie. Pumpkin pie and I once performed a legitimately moving reenactment of the “kiss in the rain” scene from The Notebook.
However, this Thanksgiving, “love” means patiently waiting for years until you can annihilate something. This pumpkin pie is the six-fingered man and I am Inigo Montoya. And thanks to my incredibly elaborate plan that some might call (have called) “inappropriate” or “the product of grave mental instability,” pumpkin pie will never even see it coming. Nobody will be ready for it: the pie, the other guests, and least of all, my sensitive stomach. Like a gourd-eating cobra, I will strike when they least expect it. Welcome to my Thanksgiving attack zone! Please remember, this game is never over. If there was a second Pie chart representing the amount of the Pumpkin Pie portion that I will actually eat on Thanksgiving Day, then it would show approximately 90% of my portion will be consumed. The last 10% I’m saving for Christmas, just when pumpkin pie thinks it’s safe.