Day 13: The First Thanksgiving and the Humble Origins of the Noble Marshmallow

Well, I was somewhere on the internets and I read where someone was talking about marshmallows. That got me thinking about the fact that I need to write a new blog. So I decided to write about marshmallows.

Marshmallows were created in 1565 for the first Thanksgiving. It was a creation by the English pilgrims who had come to America. Many new foods were to be introduced at the feast and the pilgrims really wanted to wow the Ind… Native Americans.

Well, Goody Windsor called up Pocahontas and said that she would be bringing yams to the dinner. Well, Pocahontas wasn’t a big fan of yams and she kinda made a sound that reflected her distaste. Goody Windsor did not like this. She was all like, “What? You have a problem with yams?”

And Pocahontas was all like, “No, I have no problem with yams I just have an allergy to brown sugar.”

And Goody Windsor was all like, “Bitch, brown sugar hasn’t even been invented yet. Besides I saw you eating molasses yesterday and the day before that you had butter cream frosting on Squanto’s birthday cake so I know you ain’t allergic.”

And Pocahontas was all like, “Bitch, you don’t know me!”

That’s when Goodman Windsor walked in and Goody Windsor said, “Look, I gotta go. My husband’s home and he likes the way I cook my yams.”

“What seems to be the drama, Mama?” asked Goodman Windsor.

“That stupid whore told me she didn’t like my yams! Can you believe that bitch?”

To which Goodman Windsor replied, “Look, ho, I ain’t gonna have you talkin’ to me that way. I had a long day at work trying to cobble shoes but I ran outta buckles makin belts and the damn blacksmith said he sold all his to the hat maker Goodman Blake Haversbrook. And I was pissed cause we had a deal that he’d only make buckles for me. And this is how you greet me when I come home. I aksed you what she said and you gettin’ all up in my grill because of something that Godless ho said? Bitch, get outta my face!”

“Well, fuck you, mutha fucker! Maybe we should just call this whole thing off!”

The anger was starting to take over Goodman Windsor, “Woman, you ain’t gonna embarrass me in front of the whole community like you did at the yacht party. We had everything all ready to go and then you started screaming that you weren’t getting on no damn Mayflower ‘cause you didn’t have no Dramamine. I was like, ‘Shut the fuck up and get on the damn boat! Dramamine hasn’t even been invented yet and all the other pilgrims are starting to stare!’ We was the laughing stock of the whole damn trip. We’d still be laughed out if we hadn’t moved colonies. You’re just lucky the Jones’s haven’t said anything. They only reason they haven’t was because we know about their daughter’s ability to understand math. And you better fuckin’ believe if they ever fuckin’ say anything I’ma tell everybody that that little bitch is a witch.”

“I thought I told you to never bring that bitch up to me again,” said Goody Windsor, “The only reason you know she knows math is because you humped her ass and she was able to count your three nipples!”

“Bitch, you know if anyone ever finds out about those I’ll be burned for having the devil’s mark!” Then he struck her across the mouth and she stumbled against the wall, grabbed the table lamp, and threw it at Goodman Windsor’s head. It missed and smashed against the wall behind him.

“Bitch, that’s why we can’t have nice things!”

Three days later Goody Windsor was visiting with Goody Rodriguez (her husband was there on a work visa) and she was recalling the entire tale. Goody Rodriguez couldn’t help but notice the hoodie and large sunglasses Goody Windsor was wearing. She had asked her once before about the clothing choice about a month ago and Goody Windsor said she didn’t wanna talk about it so she decided not to mention it.

They sipped tea and ate scones trying to decide what to do about the yam/Pocahontas issue.

“Well, maybe you should make something other than your same old yam dish?” suggested Goody Rodriguez.

“Same old? I just got it last month from Goody Stewart Living.”

“Yeah, but you’ve made it like everyday since you found it”

“I’m sorry but that’s all the food we have. Every time Rob…”

“Goodman Winsor?”

“Yeah, Rob goes out hunting all he ever brings back are yams from the Turner’s garden because he loads his musket so slow that deer run off.”

“Has he tried hunting sloths? They’re slow enough he should be able to load before they get away.”

“Woman, we don’t live in Australia. Where the hell do you think he’s gonna find a sloth around here?” replied Goody Windsor.

“I think you’re thinking about koalas.”

“No they’re ugly and hang on trees all day. I been to school!”

“You dropped out in the third grade!”

“So?”

“So maybe you missed the chapter on sloths and koalas. Koalas eat eucalyptus leaves which are indigenous to the continent of Australia.”

“Bitch, you better stop usin big words before I turn your ass in for witch craft. Besides it don’t fuckin matter cause ain’t none of them around here either.”

Suddenly, Goody Rodriguez had an idea, “What if we scraped all of the sugar off of those peeps we had for Easter and mix them in with your yams. We could call it yam soufflé.”

Goody Windsor brightened, “That sounds like a great idea but let’s call it… damn what do those heretics call yams?”
”Sweet potatoes”

“Yeah, sweet potatoes. We’ll call it sweet potatoe soufflé.”

The day of the first Thanksgiving was wonderful one until Goody Rodriguez claimed the idea for the marshmallows and brought out her desserts which she called “some mores” and “grain cereal squares.” She said the idea came when her son’s Hershey and Kellog would come home from school and want a treat. They were both soon burned at the stake for thinking which was a sign of witch craft. The pilgrims and Ind… Native Americans roasted marshmallows over the purifying flames. The massacre that day was left out of the history books.

Just to cap that off one time I was camping with my family because we do that every year for the fourth of July and we were making “some mores” and I prefer that my peeps with the sugar scraped of lightly toasted. Nice and tan all over it. Well, my marshmallow got a little to brown… it caught on fire. Well, I didn’t want that one. Who wants to eat a charred marshmallow and for those of you who do (I know you’re out there); you’re weird. So anyway I just kind of flung the marshmallow behind me. I forgot all about the marshmallow… for about five minutes. That’s when the screaming started. My brother had been walking around barefoot and stepped on the smoldering mallow. Now I didn’t do that on purpose, I mean how could I have, but I still take credit for it and assert that it was fully deserved for the times he has practiced WWE moves on me.