Thanksgiving 2020 and the anus of a man named Trent

[Shiversblood]

Hello everyone. Today is honestly actually Thanskgiving, in the USA. November 26 2020. 11-26-2020. A lot of people are having anal sex right now.

11-26-2020 Thursday 11:00 AM Trent wakes up. "Hell yeah time for some Turkey Hahahhaha YES!" Trent screams. He goes into the Kitchen and sees Mr Magenta.

"WHAT THE MOTHER FUCKING FUCK!" Trent screams at the top of his lungs in a angry manner.

"What?" Mr Magenta says in a confused manner.

"Where the hell is the Turkey!" Trent screams. "Oh. I decided not to do that this year." Mr Magenta says. "WHAT? WHY THE HELL NOT!" Trent screams.

"Because I am from Australia so I don't celebrate Thanksgiving." Mr Magenta says. Trent quickly punches Mr Magenta directly in the face. "AHHH!" Mr Magenta screams. Trent jump kicks Mr Magenta then grabs a ashtray off the coffe table and smashes it over Mr Magentas head shattering the glass.

Thats when William walks into the room. "What is going on in here?" William says. Trent quickly pulls out his pistol and shoots William three times in the chest killing him he falls to the floor.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU MADE ME DO MOTHER FUCKERRRRR!!!!!" Trent screams and pistol whips Mr Magenta. "Look, Trent, we can just go to Imachavels house and eat Turkey dinner with him and his family. You can still have some Turkey today." Mr Magenta says. "I hope for your sake that you are right." Trent says.

Mr Magenta and Trent go outside and get into the car. Mr Magenta slams on the gas pedal and they just fly all the way there. They go and Trent starts pounding on Imachavels front door as hard and as loud as possible. "Why is he not opening the door?" Trent says and pulls out his cell phone and calls Imachavel. "Hello?" Imachavel says as he awnsers. "Me and Mr Magenta are outside open the god damn door!" Trent says. "Im sorry Trent, but I am only having Thanksgiving dinner with my wife and 20 year old son today. I'm not having anyone else over today." Imachavel says. "YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" Trent screams and hangs up. "What he says?" Mr Magenta asks. "he is not letting us in." Trent says. Mr Magenta angerly walks back to the car. He pops open the trunk and pulls his sawed off shotgun out of the trunk. "Fuck that shit." Mr Magenta says. Mr Magenta walks to the door and quickly kicks down the door. "WHERE IS THE TURKEY MOTHER FUCKER!" Mr magenta screams as he and Trent walk inside. They see Imchavel his wife and his 20 year old son sitting at the dinner table with a Turkey on table. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOME!" Imachavels wife screams. Mr Magenta quickly blasts her in the face with his sawed off shotgun. "AHHHHH!" Imachavel son screams and grabs a carving knife off the table and then gets up and charges towards mr Magenta with the knife but Trent quickly shoots him three times in the chest he falls to the ground dead at Mr Magentas feet. "NOOOO!" Imachavel screams. Trent quickly pistol whips Imachavel. Trent gets him in a head lock. "Mr Magenta go to the car and get the rope out of the trunk he need to tie this mother fucker up to the chair so we can all sit at the table and enjoy some Turkey this Thanskgiving" Trent says. Mr Magenta goes outside and gets the rope he gives it to Trent, Trent ties Imachavel to the chair.

Trent Mr Magenta and imachavel they are all sitting at the table. Imachavels wife she is sitting in a chair slumped over dead blood everywhere. "Okay, we are all fine right now everything is fine we are all enjoying ourselves we are havig a good thanksgiving dinner right now with some Turkey." Trent explains.

 

[j666]

happy thanksgiving shivers

 

[Shitpiss Babylord]

I do like a happy ending

 

[Exigent Circumcisions]

But was there cranberry sauce?

 

[Gorgar]

Don't forget about the slaughtering of the native Americans! Remember kids, death to America.

 

[Randall Fragg]

Truly Shiversblood is the voice of our generation.
Happy Thanksgiving everybody.

 

[The Pink Panther]

TL;DR

 

[NerdShamer]

TL;DR

EVERYONE IS FUCKING GAY!!!​

 

[Foghot]

what a moving story I've been crying over my turkey for over 30 minutes now

 

[Picnic_Boy]

I read it as "slumped over, dead blood everywhere," and I'm now committed to using the term "dead blood" to describe gore.

 

[The Un-Clit]

My mental image of Trent as a healer of our times, offering his anus to soothe the raging lusts of men with penises everywhere has been sadly shattered this day.

 

[formershroomeryuser]

My mental image of Trent as a healer of our times, offering his anus to soothe the raging lusts of men with penises everywhere has been sadly shattered this day.

Usually the story ends with some sort of happy sexually violent ending where someone is holding a gun to Trent's head raping him in the ass. Why would a man usually so happy to just get penises rammed up his ass at gunpoint suddenly feel the need to go to someones house and tie him up after shooting his wife and kid just to have some Turkey?

It this what Thanksgiving is all about? Violence?

This story to me represents laziness. Trent and Mr Magenta could have easily just driven to the store early before it closed and bought a Turkey and cooked it. Instead they were so focused on getting high and apparently buying weapons when the two dumb ass lazy niggas realised they did not buy a Turkey to cook instead of just going and buying one they drive to someones house on a family day and murder his wife and kid then eat his Turkey.

What the fuck is this lazy country coming to? Absolutely just horrible in all ethical manner

 

[Karl der Grosse]

"WHAT THE MOTHER FUCKING FUCK!" Trent screams at the top of his lungs in a angry manner.

"What?" Mr Magenta says in a confused manner.

Yeah, I share Mr Magenta's sense of mystification.

 

[Ralph Barnhardt]

Ejaculate

 

[Shiversblood]

November 25, 2021. Trent begins opening fire with his fully automatic machine gun. Earlier that day.

Trent wakes up in the morning on November 25 2021. It is Thanksgiving in the USA. He goes downstairs and sees several homosexual men from Australia. They had a wild party last night. "I cant wait to eat that Turkey guys!" Trent says to the homosexual men from Australia. They don't respond. "You guys are cooking the turkey right?" Trent says in a confused manner. "Sorry Trent we are from Australia. We only came here because we thought you had anus but we didn't even realize it was Thanksgiving today, sorry about. Btw are you really a Straight Christian now?" A homosexual man from Australia says. "No turkey...?" Trent says in a sad manner. "Sorry Trent." The homosexual men from Australia say in a sorrowful manner. "Hang on a second guys." Trent says and then goes back into his room. He then comes charging back with his fully automatic machine gun. "DO YOU MOTHER FUCKERS HAVE A TURKEY NOW???" Trent screams. No response. Trent begins opening fire with his fully Automatic machine gun.

 

[Karl der Grosse]

Trent has honestly actually chosen a strange holiday to suddenly refuse to be a willing receptacle for many men's pleasure.

EDIT: I see now in a sorrowful way that Trent had a similar rampage exactly one year ago.

 

[The Un-Clit]

Trent has gone sour in his old age. He needs to have several cocks slammed into his anus at once to re-light the love of life he once had.

 

[Shiversblood]

Hahahahah happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Today is 11-23-2023
It is Thanksgiving today!

 

[Shiversblood]

On Thanksgiving Day in 2024, ImaChavel found himself alone in his house, a place once filled with warmth and laughter. The memories of his wife and 20-year-old son, who tragically died in 2020, haunted him every day. Determined to keep some semblance of tradition alive, he decided to cook a turkey, though he had no intention of sharing it with anyone. The house was eerily quiet as he prepared the meal, the only sounds were the crackling of the oven and the occasional clink of utensils.

As the turkey roasted, ImaChavel sat at the table, staring at the empty seats that once held his family. He began to eat, each bite a reminder of the loneliness that now consumed his life. Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. His heart raced, and he was too terrified to turn around. Then, a voice broke the silence, "Why do we do the things we do?"

ImaChavel's blood ran cold. The voice was eerie and menacing, and he recognized it immediately. It was Trent. "I don't understand!" ImaChavel said, his voice trembling with fear.

From the shadows, Trent stepped forward, tears streaming down his face. "They are gone!" he screamed, his voice filled with anguish. "Why did they have to die? Why do we keep pretending everything is okay when it's not?"

ImaChavel's eyes welled up with tears. "Trent, I miss them every day. But what can we do? Life goes on, even when it feels like it shouldn't."

Trent's face contorted with pain. "We lie to ourselves, ImaChavel. We pretend that cooking a turkey can fill the void, that traditions can replace the ones we've lost. But it doesn't work. It never will."

The room fell silent, the weight of their shared grief pressing down on them. ImaChavel realized that Trent was right. The rituals, the routines, they were just a way to mask the unbearable pain of loss. In that moment, he understood that healing wasn't about pretending everything was normal. It was about facing the darkness, acknowledging the pain, and finding a way to live with it.

As they sat together, two broken souls in a house filled with memories, ImaChavel reached out and took Trent's hand. "We'll get through this, together," he said softly. And for the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope.

Trent pulls out a firearm and aims it at ImaChavel. “It wasn’t supposed to go that way! No one was supposed to get hurt!” Trent screams, visibly shaking and crying.

ImaChavel raises his hands slowly, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. "Trent, listen to me. I know you're hurting right now. We both are. But this isn't the answer. We can't change what happened, but we can find a way to move forward together."

Trent's grip on the firearm wavers, his tears falling freely. "I just... I don't know what to do anymore. Everything is so messed up."

ImaChavel takes a cautious step forward, his heart pounding. "I understand, Trent. Believe me, I do. But hurting each other won't bring them back. We need to help each other through this, not cause more pain."

As he speaks, ImaChavel's mind races, contemplating the idea of dialing 911. But he knows he can't let Trent see, not when he's this unstable. He continues to speak softly, hoping to reach the broken young man before him. "Please, Trent. Put the gun down. Let's talk. We can find a way to heal, but only if we do it together."

Trent's sobs grow louder, and he seems to be wrestling with his emotions. ImaChavel prays silently that his words are getting through, that somehow, they can both find a way out of this darkness.

ImaChavel quickly lunges towards Trent. It's an intense struggle as they wrestle for the gun.

“This is a psychological nightmare!” Trent screams.

Flashback to 2020: Trent just wanted some turkey. It was all he wanted. But then, everything took a sinister and dark twist. Gunfire rang out.

As Trent and ImaChavel struggle, the gun goes off, hitting the turkey on the table. They both gasp. In their rage and mania, they accidentally shot the turkey. A symbol of Thanksgiving, and the USA, and a symbol of being thankful.

"Wow. This is like a metaphor for life, huh," Trent says, his voice trembling.

ImaChavel, trying to catch his breath, replies, "Yeah, it is. We aim for something simple, something pure, and in our chaos, we end up destroying it."

Trent, still holding the gun but with less intensity, looks at the ruined turkey. "I just wanted things to be normal. I wanted to feel like everything was okay, even if just for one day."

"Normal is an illusion, Trent," ImaChavel says, his voice softening. "We chase it, but it's never really there. Life is messy, unpredictable. We have to find peace in the chaos, not through violence."

Trent's grip on the gun loosens. "I thought if I could control one thing, just one thing, it would make everything better."

"But control is a myth," ImaChavel counters. "We can't control life, only our reactions to it. Look at us now, fighting over a symbol when we should be finding a way to heal."

Trent's eyes fill with tears again. "I don't know how to heal."

"We start by forgiving ourselves and each other," ImaChavel says. "By understanding that we're all broken in some way, and that's okay. It's part of being human."

Trent finally lowers the gun, his shoulders slumping. "Maybe the bullet hole will add flavor to the turkey," ImaChavel says with a small, sad smile.

Trent lets out a shaky laugh, the tension easing slightly. "Yeah, maybe it will."

And with that, the gun is put away, and they both sit down, staring at the turkey, contemplating the strange and twisted journey that brought them to this moment.

Trent and ImaChavel sit down at the table, staring at the turkey with the bullet hole in it. They carve pieces and start eating in silence, the weight of their actions hanging in the air.

After a few moments, ImaChavel speaks up. "You know, I miss my wife and son. They were my world. Every Thanksgiving, we'd sit around the table, and my son would always make the worst jokes, but we'd laugh anyway."

Trent looks up, curiosity piqued. "What kind of jokes?"

ImaChavel smiles wistfully. "Oh, just silly puns. Like, 'Why did the turkey join the band? Because it had the drumsticks.' We'd groan, but then we'd all burst out laughing."

Trent chuckles softly. "Sounds like good times."

"They were," ImaChavel says, his voice tinged with melancholy. "I try to hang onto those good memories. It's all I have left sometimes. The way my wife would hum while cooking, the way my son would light up when he talked about his dreams."

Trent nods, feeling the weight of ImaChavel's words. "It's hard, isn't it? Holding onto the good when the bad seems so overwhelming."

"Yeah," ImaChavel agrees. "But it's those memories that keep me going. They remind me of what's important. Even in the chaos, there's beauty."

The tension in the room starts to lower, and the mood begins to lift. They share stories, laugh, and even shed a few tears.

"You know, tears and laughter together, it's the best," Trent says, wiping his eyes.

ImaChavel smiles, a genuine one this time. "Sometimes laughter is the best medicine. Sometimes it’s all we can do in this madness called life."

They both laugh, the sound filling the room and easing the heaviness in their hearts. The turkey, once a symbol of their struggle, now becomes a symbol of their shared humanity and the fragile beauty of life.

As Trent lowers his guard, ImaChavel excuses himself to go to the bathroom. "I did drink a lot of liquid, honestly," he says, trying to keep things casual. Once inside, he dials 911 without Trent knowing, whispering the address and the situation. He then returns to the table, and they continue eating the turkey.

The mood is lighter, and they share more stories and laughs. But soon, they hear the faint sounds of sirens. The noise grows louder, and Trent looks at ImaChavel with worry in his eyes.

"What did you do?" Trent asks, his voice tense.

"It's been four years, Trent. It's time to pay the piper," ImaChavel explains calmly.

Police surround the house, and after an intense standoff, Trent surrenders and is arrested. He's charged with two counts of first-degree murder for killing ImaChavel's wife and son. The court battle is long and difficult, filled with twists and turns. Trent takes the stand in his own defense.

In a shocking and dramatic verdict, Trent is found not guilty of all charges. ImaChavel walks out of the courtroom in a daze. As Trent runs outside to him, he winks at ImaChavel, a gesture filled with complex emotions.