“Pass the dutch, young blood.”
Uncle Ted takes a drag, holds it in, eases into the lawn chair next to me.
“Your mama burned the turkey. And you know Betty can’t cook no damn mac and cheese.” He inhales again, passes it to me. “This might make it taste better.”
I shake my head. “You forget, old man. I’ve lived with her my whole life, been smoking half of it.” I puff, breath, puff again.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. All November, I’m giving you Thanksgiving-themed prompts. Today’s prompt is pass the…