Imagine the Canadian Thanksgiving Dinner!
SATIRE — The following dinner, dialogue and events are entirely fictional.
OTTAWA — In the spirit of international friendship, the Carney family invited the Trump family over for Canadian Thanksgiving.
The turkey is ready. The table is set. Someone has wisely removed the television remote.
For one hopeful moment, it appears two families might simply enjoy dinner.
Then Donald Trump notices the size of the bird.
The opening negotiations
“That’s a tremendous turkey,” Trump announces. “Although we have bigger turkeys. Much bigger. People come up to me and say, ‘Sir, how do you get them so big?’”
Mark Carney sets down the carving knife.
“We calculated approximately one pound per guest, with a reasonable allowance for leftovers.”
“You calculated the turkey?”
“We ran several scenarios.”
Trump turns to Melania.
“I told you. We should have brought our own turkey.”
Melania surveys the carefully arranged table.
“Donald, we’ve been here four minutes.”
Canada’s early Thanksgiving comes under review
Trump wants to know why Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving in October.
“Earlier harvest,” Carney explains.
“So you moved Thanksgiving ahead of ours?”
“It isn’t a competition.”
“That’s what people say when they move it ahead.”
Someone offers him a dinner roll.
He accepts it, then asks whether Canada has been celebrating Christmas early as well.
The gravy becomes a trade issue
“Would you pass the gravy?” Carney asks.
Trump places one hand beside the gravy boat.
“What are we getting in return?”
“The potatoes are coming your way.”
“Canadian potatoes?”
“Yes.”
“We have Idaho. Incredible potatoes. You’ve heard of Idaho.”
“I have.”
“Then you understand my position.”
Carney proposes that both sides allow the unrestricted movement of gravy, potatoes and stuffing.
Trump considers this.
“I could agree to that. But I want to call it the Trump Thanksgiving Agreement.”
“We could call it passing dinner.”
“That doesn’t sound historic.”
The butter dispute
Melania asks for the butter.
Unfortunately, this brings dairy into the conversation.
Carney begins explaining supply management.
Trump begins explaining Wisconsin.
The butter remains between them.
At the far end of the table, a family member quietly uses olive oil.
This is the evening’s first successful diversification strategy.
A modest misunderstanding over the pumpkin pie
“Who made the pie?” Trump asks.
“It’s homemade,” someone replies.
“Beautiful crust. Very strong crust. I know crust.”
Carney mentions that there is enough for everyone.
Trump looks at the pie, then at the number of people.
“I’d like to see how you arrived at that.”
“Eight slices.”
“You’re assuming equal slices.”
“It seemed appropriate.”
“I contributed significantly to this dinner.”
“You brought a golf umbrella.”
“It’s an excellent umbrella.”
The family attempts a change of subject
Someone suggests that everyone share something they are thankful for.
The room brightens. This is familiar Thanksgiving territory. Surely nothing can go wrong with gratitude.
“I’m thankful we could all be together,” says Melania.
A warm murmur travels around the table.
“I’m thankful for family, good health and the people who prepared this meal,” Carney says.
Trump nods.
“I’m thankful Mark invited us. He wanted us here very badly.”
Carney reaches for his water.
“It was an invitation, Donald.”
“A very strong invitation. I’ve received invitations from all over the world. This was one of them.”
Carney attempts a hockey conversation
Carney suggests talking about hockey.
It is a reasonable Canadian instinct, though not necessarily a peacekeeping strategy.
Trump immediately proposes a Thanksgiving exhibition game.
“Your best people. Our best people. Huge audience.”
“Perhaps we could just watch a game.”
“We’ll need a trophy.”
“There are already trophies.”
“Not for this.”
Within three minutes, a friendly conversation about hockey has produced preliminary plans for a stadium, a naming-rights agreement and an unresolved question about who pays for overtime.
Melania asks whether anyone would like more vegetables.
Everyone says yes.
Nobody takes any.
The leftovers enter a difficult phase
Dinner winds down, and containers appear.
Carney begins dividing the remaining turkey.
“We should make sure everyone gets enough for tomorrow.”
Trump studies the portions.
“We came a long way.”
“So did the cranberries.”
“I’m just saying we had substantial travel costs.”
Carney offers an additional scoop of stuffing.
Trump accepts.
“A good deal,” he says. “We got the stuffing. They weren’t going to give us the stuffing.”
Across the table, someone quietly puts a second piece of pie into Melania’s container.
No announcement is made. No victory is claimed.
It is the smoothest negotiation of the evening.
Doing the dishes requires a framework
“Who’s helping clean up?” someone asks.
Carney stands immediately.
“I suggest we divide the work into washing, drying and putting away.”
Trump points toward the roasting pan.
“That’s a very difficult pan. Nobody talks about how difficult these pans are.”
“It needs to soak.”
“I’ve been saying that.”
Carney fills the sink.
Trump offers to supervise.
Melania hands him a tea towel.
The joint statement
By the end of the evening, both families agree on three things:
- The turkey was excellent.
- Nobody needed that second helping.
- Next time, political discussion ends before the gravy comes out.
Outside, Trump declares it one of the greatest Thanksgiving dinners ever held.
Inside, Carney checks the refrigerator and discovers the leftovers have exceeded projections.
The host finally sits down with a cup of tea.
From the hallway comes one last question.
“Mark, that maple syrup in the gift bag—is there more?”
Carney closes his eyes.
“There is, Donald. Just take it.”
Editor’s note: This is a fictional satirical column. None of the dialogue is an actual quotation, and no such gathering is being reported.
