A 52-Hertz Whale by Bill Sommer Page B

pleasure to coach Michael. As far as how he feels about the play against McDowell, it would be great if he ended up feeling thankful, but I would not blame him if he never did.
    From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: November 22, 2012 at 7:35 PM
Subject: Thanksgiving
    Hi Peter,
    Happy Thanksgiving. I just finished my Hungry Man and turned on the tube. I watched football all day and lost my voice yelling at Andy Reid so I was cruising and there was this TV show on called Intervention . Made me think of you. Any news on your sister?
    â€”Stanley P. Duckett
    From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: November 22, 2012 at 9:46 PM
Subject: RE: Thanksgiving
    Happy Thanksgiving to you, Stanley. Sounds like your day was slightly more eventful than mine. I have never really followed the Eagles or football but I’d wager that it is probably more interesting than solitaire. After my 14th game, I heated up this frozen casserole that I found in my dad’s freezer when I cleared out the apartment. The label was in my mom’s handwriting and she used to be a killer chef, but she passed away almost a year before my dad. Needless to say, the casserole tasted a little stale.
    Thanks for asking about Elsie. We talked on the phone today. She was making a Tofurky for the holiday and then I guess tomorrow she and Angry Guy are going to the Keys for a little vacation and to shell. I guess that kind of thing is easy to do when your house is also a boat. There is a plan in place for me to visit, but Elsie hasn’t been able to commit to a date.
    Regarding Intervention , I’ve experienced enough holidays-turned-interventions with my sister, so I stay away from those TV shows about addicts; I find they’re misleading. One Christmas, my sister actually threw an entire turkey at my father’s head when he confronted her on stealing 20 bucks from his wallet, as my apron-clad mother (who just spent hours preparing said bird) wailed in the background. To this day, I can’t eat turkey without feeling sick to my stomach. Here’s the thing about real life interventions: no matter how uncomfortable things get, you can’t change the channel.
    Best,
    Peter

DECEMBER 2012
    From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: December 6, 2012 at 4:56 PM
Subject: RE: Party
    Dear D-Dog:
    Sorry about the lag time in my response. Had to work double shifts over the holiday because we were busy with the schools out for Thanksgiving.
    Anyway, I’m guessing that you want to know how the party went. I had to wait for the guys to pick me up on King St. Given that’s my normal habitat, no one thought it strange for me to be standing there pacing back and forth. I took your advice about deodorant and bought a stick at the 7-Eleven. Clinical-strength stuff. Don’t know how well it worked though. My hair was soaked before Coxson’s car even pulled up.
    For the most part, the ride to Smith’s was uneventful. It was Coxson, Sam, and some other kid I don’t know that well. The guys talked about previous “party fouls.” Most involved Sam. Allegedly, Sam once peed in some kid’s mother’s flower pot. At one point, Charlie ashed out the window. The ash flew through my window and onto my lap, singeing my fur pretty bad. I knew Chin Piercing would have a shit fit (Urban Dictionary, 2012) when he saw the damage. But I was lucky. The whole costume probably could have gone up in flames. Then Charlie offered me a cigarette. I refused, saying I wasn’t into the whole yellow teeth look he had going on. Sam and the other kid in the car thought that was hilarious. Charlie—not so much. He gave me the same look in the rearview mirror that he’d given some guy earlier who’d flipped him the bird.
    Anyway, I’d never been to Craig Smith’s before, but it wasn’t hard to tell which house it was. Cars were everywhere. Inside, people were clutching beer