Chapter 3: The Main Course & Dessert

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On this mild late November afternoon, the weather wasn't a factor in the adults' outdoor scramble to find Tony's rented piglet. The dressy clothes for the Thanksgiving dinner, however, were. Ziva and Abby, both in high heels and tight dresses, moved a lot more slowly (and unsteadily) over the uneven ground than the men did.

For their part, some of the men were concerned about the effect of the woodsy dirt on their dress shoes. My first Italian leather shoes, Tim thought bleakly. Tony's probably on his tenth pair. He doesn't look happy, either.

"Find that pig!" Tony thundered. "McFarmlandboy! How do you call a pig?"

"Uh…you mean, 'soo-ie'?" Tim offered weakly, not liking the implied insult.

"Yes, but put some backbone in it."

Rolling his eyes, Tim stopped and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Soooooooooo-EEE! Soo-ie, Soo-ie, Soo-ie! Here, pig, pig, pig!"

"Does that really work?" asked Ziva.

"I don't know how old pigs have to be to attend pig-calling school," said Tim wryly.

"I see it!" cried Jimmy, and he ran off into the woods, the others following. With several not entirely graceful leaps over fallen logs, Jimmy then made a running dive and slid headfirst on a trail of fallen leaves…coming up with the squawking piglet in both hands. His friends applauded.

- - - - -

Meanwhile, back in the house, the adorable children Scooter and Princess were once again admiring the turkey. In the rush to follow the runaway pig, Abby had stopped long enough to take the turkey out of the oven to baste it. Urged to come on by Tim, she had set the turkey in its roasting pan on the table, certain that they'd all be back in the house within minutes. What were NCIS agents if not adept at catching their quarries?

"Yes sir; that's a big 'un," said Scooter, mimicking his dad as he gazed longingly at the delectable turkey.

"A big 'un," Princess agreed.

"I want a drumstick. Both drumsticks!"

"I want ten drumsticks!"

"Princess, there are only two drumsticks," Scooter smirked.

"You're hogging the other drumsticks!" she wailed.

Scooter looked around, worriedly. He knew that few adults could resist the sound of his little sister's sobbing. "Quiet, Princess! Tell you what—I'll see that you get the neck! That's the bestest piece of turkey there is!"

"It is?" she said, eyes wide and tears ending.

"You bet it is! And it'll be all yours!"

"Yay!!!" Bouncing up and down, she just managed to step aside as the grown-ups came pouring back in. "Doctor Mallard, Scooter says I can have the—"

Scooter clamped a hand over her mouth, and only grinned at the adults, who were beyond being interested in the children. "Quiet," he hissed to Princess after the others had gone through and out of the room. "Everyone's going to want the neck. Don't give them ideas!"

"Can I see it now?"

Back in the living room, the adults were settling back down with great sighs. Jimmy hung up his grass-stained, muddy suit coat on the coat rack, biting back comments. He had to pinch pennies, as a student and part-time worker, and lamented the cost of the dry cleaning that the coat (and probably the pants) was headed for. Ducky found a dog carrier, and the piglet was stuffed into it. "Take it out to your car, DiNozzo," Gibbs directed.

"When I've caught my breath, boss," Tony said, eyes closed.

A piercing scream came from the kitchen.

"Do we have to?" asked Abby, sprawled in an easy chair.

The screams continued. "I'm not sure," said Vance.

"Oh, all of you!" Ziva scolded, getting up. Slowly. The others did likewise.

"Princess, stop!" they heard Scooter cry. "I can fix it!" Small footsteps pounded.

That statement got the adults going, for whatever it was, they doubted that Scooter could do it.

In the kitchen, they found Princess running around wildly, blindly almost…with the turkey on her head. Literally. Her own small head was inside the turkey's opening; the bird enveloping her all the way down to her neck.

It took three of them to surround her and grab her. Gibbs lifted her into the air, her legs kicking. "Stop struggling!" he scolded. "We'll get you out of there."

"It would be easier to wait until she passes out from lack of air," Ducky observed.

"Ducky!" Tim cried.

"I'm sorry; did I say that out loud?" Ducky said. "All right. Tony, see if you can yank the turkey off her."

Tony tried, gently, over Princess' continuing screams, but it was no use. "We're going to have to cut it off, Ducky."

"You can't cut my sister's head off! I won't let you!!" Scooter cried, giving Tony a sharp kick in the knee.

"That's not what I meant, kid!" Tony yelped.

Vance found a large knife. "I'm used to carving turkeys. I'll do it." While Gibbs and Tony held the squirming girl as still as possible, Vance made a few expert cuts, and quickly the turkey was lifted off Princess' head, juices running down her.

"You are filthy!" Victoria snapped at the girl. "Into the bathtub with you, this instant!" She led the now-wailing-again girl away.

"Will it still be fit to eat, Duck?" Gibbs asked, eyeing the turkey.

"I think so," Ducky said, wondering what he had done in a past life to deserve this. "As long as we don't eat anything from the inside."

"I can carve it carefully," said Vance.

"It still needs to cook about ½ hour more," said Tim.

With the bird back in the oven, the adults once again retreated to the living room. The wine was running low, so Ducky opened up the liquor cabinet. Abby replenished the appetizers. By the time that Victoria returned with a now-clean Princess (dressed in an ancient Wolf Cubs (scout) uniform), Tim, Ziva, and Ducky were bringing food to the dining room table. It was time for dinner.

"DiNozzo, did you ever take the pig out to your car?" Gibbs asked as they headed for the table.

"Ah, no. I'll do that now." A moment later he came back in the dining room. "Did you move the dog carrier, boss? I can't find it."

"Nope. Someone must've. Look for it later." Gibbs eyed Scooter. "Do you know anything about this, Scooter?"

"Who, me??"

They all sat down at the table; all eleven of them. "Let us join hands," said Ducky. "Jethro, I think you are doing the prayer this year?"

As everyone bowed their head, Gibbs began, "Dear Lord…"

And then with a squoink, the large bread basket in the center of the table tipped over and the piglet jumped out of it, a piece of bread in its mouth. The pig ran down the table, hopping through some dishes and bowls, knocking them over, while the adults shrieked and the children cheered. It was Ziva's turn to make a flying leap to catch the pig, and she did, skittering along the tablecloth…only to have that leaf of the old, old table groan and then collapse. The nearby dishes and bowls slid down onto Ziva; the ones at the other end went flying and landed on everyone. The turkey landed on Ducky's lap…briefly…before sliding to the floor and being pounced on by the corgis.

"I don't remember last year being this bad," said Jimmy. "Uh, no offense, Doctor."

"At least the desserts are safe," said Victoria. She cocked her head. "Are the desserts supposed to make noises?"

"Noises, Mother?" Ducky said, then "Oh, no…!" He ran for the kitchen, followed by the others.

The back door had been left open, by accident. In the kitchen were two large, wild turkeys and a Canada goose, all making short work of the pies and the cake on the countertop.

"Dinner!" cried Tim, leaping forward. "I think I know how to wring a turkey's neck. It'll be late, but we'll still have a Thanksgiving dinner, by gum!"

"Stop, Probie!" Tony cried, grabbing wild-eyed Tim. "We're all hungry, but this isn't the answer!"

"I! Want! Meat!" Tim yelled.

"Unfortunately, these wild birds are protected species," Ducky lamented as Jimmy and Abby chased the birds back outdoors with brooms.

"Our Thanksgiving. Ruined," Ziva sighed, as she handed the pig back to Tony.

"Not entirely," said Tony. "I still have the phone number to Star of India. What do we want? A large selection of tandoori dishes?"

- - - - -

The Indian food order arrived around the time that everyone had finished rinsing the food off their clothes and cleaning up the kitchen and dining room. "Bring your clothes into NCIS tomorrow," said Vance. "I'll drop them all off at my dry cleaners. It'll be on me."

The others murmured their thanks as the phone rang. Ducky answered it, listened for a moment, and then announced, "It's a girl. You have a little sister, children." He listened again, and then relayed, "Her name is going to be 'Thanksgiving'. This is so she will always remember her birthday."

"That's ridiculous!" said Abby. "Thanksgiving isn't on a fixed day."

But Ducky only shook his head. Into the phone he said, "Can we keep the children longer? Oh, my, no; that's a bad idea. We're all dreadfully sick here. Except the children. Vomiting everywhere. You'd better come get them quickly. They'll be on the porch."

"We don't get anything to eat?!" Scooter raged. "I'm hungry!"

Tony pulled out a small amount of pork from the Indian order and wrapped it in foil. "This is the pig's big brother. Enjoy."

"You're bluffing," Scooter said, but he looked doubtful. He and Princess were shooed out to the front porch, and the door closed firmly behind them.

The adults crowded around two card tables to eat the Indian food. "Dear Lord," Gibbs began again, "We give thanks today for the presence of our friends and this meal. Without our friends, we could not possibly cope. Amen."

"Amen," the others chorused.

Abby was moved. "Should we let the kids back in?" She didn't really want to; she was relaxed and comfortable with Tim's arms around her.

"NO!" was the roar of the other eight voices.

-END-