Thanksgiving, Somewhere--In lieu of shouting matches over building walls and debating whether “those transgenders” are really people, the Orwell family followed their octogenarian patriarchs example and forgot about their political differences, and instead were occupied with the welcome and distracting sorrow they collectively felt watching the rapid and tragic deterioration of Grandpa's once sharp mind.
“George was diagnosed a few years ago, and even though we all knew this was an unfortunate eventuality, he spent the last few Thanksgivings attempting to disinherit our gay grandson and calling our goddaughter an abomination, her father’s one of those colored people you know, so I guess we all ignored reality for a bit. But things began to progress rapidly in the last few months, and he can’t even recall the minorities he loved to marginalize in very open and uncomfortable ways anymore” offered Mr. Orwells longtime spouse and domestic abusee, Virginia, before taking a moment to compose herself.
“It’s getting harder and harder to take care of him on my own, and I’ve been considering private care facilities,” Mrs. Orwell went on. “But none of them seem to really care. The options are so limited around here, and the ones I could find had such deplorable conditions you have to wonder if it’s even remotely humane to dump someone off there like some kind of burden. These are places for human beings, and they don’t even segregate their wings.”
Sources close to the dinner say that while dementia poses a serious threat to the aging population and all parties agree it should be treated with like gravitas, the Orwell family appeared to proceed through their Thanksgiving festivities with unparalleled peace of mind and equally delightful pieces of pie.
While working through their dinner, the rest of the family was very taken by the unfortunate conclusion of what many described as an individual with an acute personality and seething hatred for social change.
“Usually grandpa hits me and tells me that I’m going to burn in hell” explained 11-year-old Orson Orwell, who recently embraced his attraction to other boys his age as natural and valid with the love and support of his immediate family. “But today he didn’t even try to read out of the Bible to me! Grandpas dementia is what I’m thankful for this year!”
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