Curious Mr. Birnbaums

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
what a strange old man does on thanksgiving

Submitted: November 21, 2012

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Submitted: November 21, 2012



Curious Mr. Birnbaums 

By Daniel Brown


There is an old white bearded man named Frank Birnbaums who live on the top of a hill, miles away from civilization. He is a hermit no family no friends. His family all died off from old age or accidents and he really had no social life, but yet he always sets the table when thanks giving came along.

The table would be set with the finest silver utensils and the most decretive china plates and bowls a beautiful chandler hanging over the table bathed the large room in light. A plump steaming turkey filled with a delicious homemade stuffing sat in the middle of a large oval oak table, the turkey was accompanied by a cooked pig with a juice red apple stuck into its mouth. The table was also filled with a large bowls of fluffy mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes that melt in your mouth. Along with a freshly made cram berry sauce also put into a beautiful crystal bowl. Mr. Birnbaums also made apple, peach, pumpkin pies, along with a tray of buttery biscuits, which steamed with welcoming warmth, he also made a batch of vanilla ice-cream that sat in his ice chest waiting to end the feast on a high note.

When old Mr. Birnbaums finished filling the delicate crystal champion glasses with ice cold Apple cider he sat at the head of the table in silence he old grey eyes tiered of the cooking and preparation, he pulled out an old pipe and put on his circle glasses on the tip of his long bird noise. With his right hand he pulled out an old leather sack, opened it, and pulled out a pinch of sweet tobacco and put it into his pipe he retrieved a match from the right breast pocket of his long sleeve plaid shirt. He struck the match on the underside of the oak table flavoring the air with a hint of sulfur, he put the burning match over the pipe bowl that held his tobacco and took a few puffs until the tobacco started to burn. He then shook his wrist violently to put out the lit match, and then he tucked the dead match into his thigh pocket, and relaxed in his chair gently smoking his pipe, waiting.

Soon enough his wait paid off, he saw a biscuit gently levitate up from its tray.

“Max you know better.” Mr. Birnbaums said in a deep old voice. The biscuit slowly sat back down in its place, a chair then moved out from under the table and the ghostly image of a young boy appeared in the chair with a laughing grin but no laugh was mum.

“Wait for your parents and the others.” Mr. Birnbaums told the smiling ghost boy. The boy was Frank’s Nephew, the son of his sister they died from an illness thirty years ago. Mr. Birnbaums smiled when he saw his sister and her husband appear on each side of the boy still looking quite young as they did before there death. Soon after other ghost guest appeared at the table. Mr. Birnbaum’s Father, Mother, grandparents, aunts and uncles all showed up in sprit.

“Once again, I am blessed to see my family again for another wonderful thanksgiving, please take your champion glasses; we shall have a toast for this amazing day. Cheers.” Mr. Birnbaums announced, they all took a sip of their delicious cider. “Now let’s not let this food go to waist, dig in!” Mr. Birnbaums said with joy as he sat back down, and took a spoon of mashed potatoes and plopped it on his plate then passed it to his grandmother who smiled at him mouthing the word; thank you.

The feast continued for hours, even in the silence of the ghost Mr. Birnbaums had a wonderful time with his family that he didn’t have very long when they were alive. The food slowly vanished into the stomachs of the ghost who must be very hungry for they eat so much, or that the food is so good they can’t stop even if they wanted to. When desert came, Mr. Birnbaums went to the ice chest to grab the steel bucket of homemade vanilla ice cream. He went around with a scooper, scooping ice cream and putting it on the dessert plate with a side of a slice of pie.

When the ghost finished their meals they said good bye the best they could and slowly one by one disappeared. When they all had gone Mr. Birnbaums, with a huge grin on his wrinkly face washed up the dishes and feed the left overs to his two old Husky’s named Luna and Snow White, who gladly ate the scraps and chewed on the bones. When Mr. Birnbaums finished the cleanup he retired to his bed room, and fell into a deep sleep.

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