Thanksgiving at the Tomasi homestead. The family and friends are gathered together in the warm glow of traditional havest-time domestic bliss. the table is laden with the feast and a fire is in the hearth... all is comfort and joy. Yet, something is amiss. There in a dark and gloomy corner sits Rolo. Poor Rolo, the black sheep of the family. Scowling and muttering to himself.
Cousin Geneva: "Is there something wrong with Rolo? He looks like he had vinegar instead of wine in his glass. Is he okay?"
Grandma Tomasi: "Oh, he always looks like that. His mother hate too much garlic while she was pregnant with him, is all..."
Mrs Rolo: "No, he's even more dispeptic than usual. All I can get out of him is something about a draft."
Grandma Tomasi: "His Grandfather caught his death from a draft. This place has always been too windy. Its a wonder you're both not dead yet!"
The family cat comes up to rub up against Rolo's legs in a gesture of feline holiday cheer. Rolo returns it with a swift kick and he stares out into the deepning Novemeber chill and mutters to himself...
Rolo: "Damn slow play! Why does this have to TAKE so long!? Bah! I bet this bunch of Whos from Whoville would enjoy a nice long slow colonoscopy! Its like they ENJOY this draft! They ENJOY thinkign about it! They ENJOY doing research and compiling lists! God I HATE "enjoyment"! No way this should take more than an hour. 90 minutes tops. Stupid people!"
Rolo casts a infernal glare around the room and instinctively his gathered friends and relations move to the den leaving Rolo to sit alone... like always at these family gatherings... alone with his glower... like an open casket viewing. A scene repeated in the Tomasi household for decades.
Rolo: "That damn turkey is over cooked, too, I bet! I hate turkey! Why do we have to have holiday's anyway!? Can't these people just get the hell out of my house now? Can I just leave and go to a bar? Bah!"
And Mrs Tomasi turns up the stereo slightly to mask the muttering....
Cousin Geneva: "Is there something wrong with Rolo? He looks like he had vinegar instead of wine in his glass. Is he okay?"
Grandma Tomasi: "Oh, he always looks like that. His mother hate too much garlic while she was pregnant with him, is all..."
Mrs Rolo: "No, he's even more dispeptic than usual. All I can get out of him is something about a draft."
Grandma Tomasi: "His Grandfather caught his death from a draft. This place has always been too windy. Its a wonder you're both not dead yet!"
The family cat comes up to rub up against Rolo's legs in a gesture of feline holiday cheer. Rolo returns it with a swift kick and he stares out into the deepning Novemeber chill and mutters to himself...
Rolo: "Damn slow play! Why does this have to TAKE so long!? Bah! I bet this bunch of Whos from Whoville would enjoy a nice long slow colonoscopy! Its like they ENJOY this draft! They ENJOY thinkign about it! They ENJOY doing research and compiling lists! God I HATE "enjoyment"! No way this should take more than an hour. 90 minutes tops. Stupid people!"
Rolo casts a infernal glare around the room and instinctively his gathered friends and relations move to the den leaving Rolo to sit alone... like always at these family gatherings... alone with his glower... like an open casket viewing. A scene repeated in the Tomasi household for decades.
Rolo: "That damn turkey is over cooked, too, I bet! I hate turkey! Why do we have to have holiday's anyway!? Can't these people just get the hell out of my house now? Can I just leave and go to a bar? Bah!"
And Mrs Tomasi turns up the stereo slightly to mask the muttering....
