Watching and waiting, the Malthusian visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
Moon people celebrate Thanksgiving. But in their typical fashion, they have problems. First and foremost, there’s no one to thank.
“We could thank ourselves,” said Kenneth Kern. He sat before a huge tofurkey. This is tofu shaped like the bird. Captain Rollhagen rapidly sliced off pieces. There are advantages to tofurkeys. There are no bones.
Chaplain Argus took exception to Kern’s insouciance. “You don’t thank yourself on Thanksgiving, Mr. Kern.”
“Well then, who do you thank?” Kern knew the answer, but couldn’t help needling a man of faith.
“Why, the Unknowable, of course.”
“Is He responsible for all this?”
“Or She?” Lt. Megan Bremer piped in. The whole table was listening. It beat discussing anti-gravity propulsion.
“He, or She…” said Argus. “…most certainly is responsible. Where do you think you came from?”
“We all know how people are made,” said Kern. Snickers sounded around the table.
Argus blushed. Like all men of the cloth, he disliked bawdy jokes. “Let’s put it this way,” he continued. “You’re here. But how did you come to know you’re here? There’s only one answer. The Unknowable.”
“And how do we know that?” asked Kern.
“We don’t. That’s what faith is.”
He had Kern there. Plus, it was time to eat. “A drumstick, Kenneth?”
“Absolutely.”
Plates were passed. But before they began, Chaplain Argus said grace:
Beloved friends. We thank the Unknowable for all we know. But most of all, we thank the Unknowable for all we don’t know. Amen.
Amen indeed. Kern took a big bite and smiled. No bones.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com