by TJ Klune
Mrs. Von Patterson barely blinked. “Well, whatever you are, welcome! It’s certainly… illuminating to have you here. Since today is a day of no-thanks, I will refrain from pointing out the person who I assume is responsible for your presence.”
“Oh man,” Quincy whispered to Josy. “I wonder who she’s talking about.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Josy whispered back.
“No-Thanks Giving is a time-honored tradition here in Abby,” Mrs. Von Patterson continued. “It was started with the idea that Thanksgiving, while widely celebrated, is built upon the backs of our horrendous ancestors, who decided to take something that didn’t belong to them. And while keeping in mind to check our own privilege, half the proceeds from every No-Thanks Giving are donated to a charity supporting Native American people. This year, the donations are going to the Native American Rights Fund, and it appears that we will be able to give our highest donation yet!”
“This is such a rad town,” Sassy muttered to someone who appeared to be Mrs. Sassy. She nodded in agreement.
Then Mrs. Von Patterson’s expression softened slightly. Josy didn’t know she could look anything but mostly terrifying. It was quite astonishing. “I’ve only taken over as master of ceremonies in the last few years. No-Thanks Giving was originally hosted by its creator, Pastor Tommy Tiberius, may he rest in power. He was a wonderful man who cared deeply for this town. I would like to request a moment of silence in his memory, something which we will do for as long as there is a No-Thanks Giving.”
Everyone bowed their heads.
Quincy reached out and took Josy’s hand in his again. It was very warm.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Von Patterson finally said, and everyone looked back up at her. “Every year since we lost Pastor Tommy, I ask his son if he’d like to get up and say a few words. Every year, he… declines. And quite forcefully too. This year, however, much to my surprise, he accepted.”
“No freaking way,” Casey whispered, eyes widening.
“Gus, would you please join me onstage?”
“Dude,” Josy said.
“Dude,” Casey agreed.
Gustavo Tiberius walked on the stage, looking extraordinarily uncomfortable in a bright pink Hawaiian shirt under his coat. He was grimacing, brow furrowed, eyebrows moving as if they’d become sentient beings and were in the process of taking over his forehead. He scowled at the crowd as they cheered, Casey loudest of all, head tilted back as he howled toward the sky. Mrs. Von Patterson covered the top of the microphone with her hand and leaned over to whisper something in Gustavo’s ear. Josy thought Gustavo was going to karate chop her face off, but somehow he resisted. She stepped away from the mic, letting Gustavo have the stage.
“Hi,” he said into the mic, and it screeched around his voice.
“Pat!” Leslie bellowed. “We talked about this!”
“Sorry!” came the reply. “Try it now.”
Gustavo cleared his throat. “Is that better?”
Mrs. Von Patterson gave him a thumbs-up.
Gustavo scowled harder as he nodded. He took a deep breath, then said, “I don’t like people.”
The crowd stared at him.
“I love him so goddamn much,” Casey whispered. “He’s just… this guy.”
“People have never been my thing,” Gustavo continued. “And Pastor Tommy told me that was okay. But then he left me and I… I didn’t know how to be. How to be happy. How to be right. How to be normal. Then these women whined into town on their Vespas and for some reason decided they were going to stay.”
“He’s talking about us,” Bernice said to the people around her. “We will be available for autographs after. Cash only.”
“And they became my… friends. I didn’t even like them, but they didn’t care. And Lottie was there too, and she brought me sandwiches. Even when I wasn’t hungry. But she made me eat, because she said I was too skinny and that if I didn’t eat, I was going to die.”
Lottie wiped her eyes as she laid her head on Casey’s shoulder. “He hates pickles so much.”
“And it was… okay. I read stuff on a calendar that I didn’t want, but I told myself I was going to have an okay day. And I did. I had Harry S. Truman—my ferret, not the president—and my encyclopedias, and I thought it was enough. And it was. But then an asexual stoner hipster decided he wanted to be my friend, and I—I realized that I wasn’t okay. At least not as okay as I wanted to be. I wanted something more. And even though he was annoying and wouldn’t leave me alone, I thought maybe he wasn’t so bad, aside from the way he dressed and talked and other things that I didn’t appreciate. I mean, what the hell, right? Oh my god. But he was… nice. And good. And I love him a lot.” Gustavo blushed as the We Three Queens catcalled him from the crowd.
“Holy shit,” Josy breathed. “Is he going to…?”
Casey glanced at him. “Is he going to what?”
But Josy could see it when it happened. The moment Gustavo changed his mind. He looked stricken, hands in fists at his sides. His mouth was in a thin line, and he shook his head. “He showed me I didn’t have to be normal. That I could be me, and that was okay. And that’s what Pastor Tommy wanted to show for No-Thanks Giving. That we could do things our own way and still be fine. Thank you for celebrating this for my dad.”
Gustavo hurried off the stage. Mrs. Von Patterson clapped along with the audience as she went back to the mic. “Thank you, Gus. That certainly was… what it was. Now we will allow those that would like to come onstage and give their thanks, their no-thanks, or whatever comes into their head. You have one minute, and you must keep it clean, as there are children in the crowd. That means you, hairy ape creature.”
“I can dig it!” Sassy shouted at her.
Gustavo was pushing his way through the crowd toward them, a frown on his face. Casey rushed toward him, and Gustavo barely had a moment to react before he was practically tackled. Casey leapt at him, wrapping his legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders. “Dude,” Casey demanded. “That was epic!”
Gustavo rolled his eyes. “It was just words.”
“The best words, man. Like, I had no idea you were going to do that!”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Gustavo mumbled.
“Awesome surprise, Grumpy Gus. Best day ever.”
“Really?”
Casey nodded as he put his feet back on the ground. He leaned forward and kissed Gustavo firmly. “Really. I’m proud of you, man. You have no idea how much.”
“Thanks. I think.”
Quincy was watching them. “They really love each other.”
“Yeah,” Josy said. “They do. They’re good for each other, you know? Keep each other happy.”
Quincy nodded slowly but didn’t say anything more.
PEOPLE TOOK to the stage for their allotted minute. Thanks was given for a dog named Fred, a washing machine, a woman named Kimberly, condiments, a new mattress, a doctor, Disney World, firefighters, Christmas, narwhals, Darth Vader, shag carpeting, the polio vaccine, the fact that Barack Obama was president and not some narcissistic maniacal liar, and strangely, two people sang a song about fighting crime with Jesus.
Others gave no-thanks to mean people, bank robbers, the way sometimes a toaster toasted one side of the bread more than the other, a broken toe, a broken heart, a broken lamp, people who were antiweed, flat tires, mayonnaise, an inability to climb into a hammock the first time without falling out, lemon-flavored cough drops, and strangely, a guy named Billy Ray who would never be forgiven for that thing he did one time, you bastard, who the hell do you think you are?
Some people told jokes, most of which were terrible, but at least a third of the crowd was high, so that was all right.
Someone played a flute.
Still another person tap-danced.
And yet another spoke in what sound like Dutch, but Josy couldn’t be sure how he knew what Dutch sounded like.
Casey squeezed Gustavo’s hand and headed to
ward the stage. Gustavo watched him leave, an indiscernible expression on his face.
“You okay?” Josy asked him.
Gustavo shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You did good.”
“I chickened out.”
“I thought maybe you were thinking some thoughts.”
Gustavo snorted. “Is that right?”
“Sure, man. But it’s okay, you know? When it’s right, you’ll know.”
“I thought it was, but I got up there and… I just couldn’t make the words come out.”
“What’s he talking about?” Quincy whispered.
“Nothing,” Josy said easily. “Just love stuff.”
“Oh. I like love stuff.”
“Awesome, dude. Me too.”
“Oh my god,” Gustavo muttered. “Do that somewhere else. What the hell.”
“Give us a minute, will you?” Josy asked Quincy.
He nodded. “Sure. I’ll just go be stoned by Roger.”
Josy grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”
He waited until Quincy was walking toward his grandad before he turned back to Gustavo. “You got the ring?”
Gustavo nodded stiffly. “In my pocket.”
“Keep it there, man. Keep it safe. It’ll still be there when you’re ready. I promise. You’re a good dude, Gustavo. And you know he’s going to say yes no matter when you decide to ask him.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. He’s, like, totally in love with you.”
“Like, totally,” Gustavo mocked.
Josy shoved him. “You know what I mean.”
Gustavo sighed. “Unfortunately. Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was.”
“And that’s okay. Maybe you will be tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next month or next year. But you know he’s going to be there when you are, so it’s all good, dude.”
“Don’t call me dude.”
“Yeah, no, man. Probably never going to stop that.”
“Lucky me. Look. Casey’s up next.”
The audience cheered as Casey walked up to the mic. He smiled at them and gave a little wave, a lock of hair coming loose from the bun on his head and falling around his face. “Oh, hey, that’s real nice. Thanks. Just wanted to take a minute to thank Mrs. Von Patterson and the Fun Committee for putting on the No-Thanks Giving, and to say how rad it is that Oregon decided to legalize recreational marijuana. My aunt and I have got big plans for Abby, and we appreciate the support we’ve received.”
“I’m going to get so many people stoned through pastries,” Lottie said behind them. “Muffins and cookies and scones and—”
“I’ve got one no-thanks and a bunch of thankful stuff,” Casey said. “I try to be positive as much as I can, but sometimes even I can get a little pissed off. So, I give my no-thanks to people who try and tear others down. Like, what the fuck, man? Why do you have to be such a douchebag? Just because other people are different doesn’t give you the right to be a jerk. So just stop it, or whatever. Live and let live.”
“Succinct as usual,” Gustavo mumbled.
“But I’m thankful for this community, and for the people in it who have helped make it one,” Casey continued. “Everyone here has welcomed me, and I’m so happy to call Abby my home. The ferret with merit and Lottie and the Queens. They’re my family now. It’s awesome to know that sometimes it’s not about the blood in your veins but the people who got your back no matter what.”
“We love you!” Bernice shrieked. “Still waiting on DesRinaDale, but I forgive the delay! Mostly!”
“Oh, I hear that. Soon, I hope. And I’ve got my friends too. Josy and Xander and Serge. They helped me become the man I am today, and I think I turned out all right, so thanks to them.”
“He’s talking about me,” Josy said excitedly, looking around to find out if Quincy heard. But Roger was next to the Queens with no Quincy in sight.
Josy hoped he hadn’t wandered off to find a pond with ducks in it. He’d done that once back in Los Angeles, and it hadn’t turned out well for anyone involved. The police hadn’t been amused when they’d arrived.
“And then there’s my dude. My man. My guy. Gustavo. I don’t know if you know this, but he’s pretty much the best.”
“Aw,” Josy said. “That’s so nice.”
Gustavo was blushing and muttering under his breath.
Casey looked at him, smiling quietly. “And I just want him to know that I might have accidentally seen some things on his laptop that maybe I shouldn’t have, and that maybe he was going to ask something today but decided not to. I just want him to know that when he’s ready, I’m all-in. For life. Because Abby may be my home, but you’re my heart, dude. Just so you know.”
Gustavo looked shocked.
Josy absolutely was not crying.
“And that’s it,” Casey said with a shrug. “Be good to each other and we’ll all have okay days.” He gave a little bow, and the crowd clapped him off the stage.
“See?” Josy said, wiping his eyes. “Told you. I can’t believe we’re going to be related!”
“That’s not how any of that works,” Gustavo muttered.
“What? Of course it does, we’re—”
The crowd roared.
Josy blinked as he looked around. “What the hell is—”
Quincy was on the stage, looking determined and terrified all at once.
“Oh no,” Josy whispered. “He’s high. I’ve got to save him!”
Gustavo grabbed his arm before he could make his way toward the stage. “Let him talk. He wouldn’t be up there if he didn’t want to be.”
“He’s stoned. He doesn’t know what he’s doing!”
Gustavo rolled his eyes. “He’s not that stoned. Trust him a little bit.”
“Do you trust me when I’m high?”
“Yes,” Gustavo said slowly. “Even though I would rather be anywhere else because you talk about stupid crap.”
“Monkey Island,” Josy reminded him.
Gustavo crossed his arms over his chest as he scowled. “That was a good idea. Shut up. Casey’s still by the stage. If something happens, he’ll help.”
Josy groaned but stayed where he was. He hoped Quincy wouldn’t regret this later.
“Hi,” Quincy squeaked into the microphone. He coughed, then tried again. “Hello.”
“We love you, Q-Bert!” the mermaid screamed.
“Thank you? Yes. Thank you. That’s… very nice of you to say. Just so you know, I ate a marijuana cookie, and now I’m stoned.”
The audience cheered.
“Not that I’m always stoned,” Quincy said quickly. “I mean, it’s okay, but it was on accident, and I can’t throw up on purpose, so here I am.”
“He’s going to murder me,” Josy moaned. “And then he won’t want to be my boyfriend because I’m dead, and no one wants to date a dead guy except for necrophiliacs and teenage girls.”
Gus was scandalized. “What the hell?”
“But I’m still going to do this,” Quincy said. “Because no matter what, taking chances is always going to be scary. That won’t ever change. Sometimes you put yourself out there and it doesn’t work out. Maybe because it wasn’t the right time or place or it wasn’t meant to be. But you can always say you tried, and I think that’s what’s important.”
The crowd was silent.
Josy swallowed thickly.
Quincy reached up and gripped the mic. For a wild moment, Josy thought he was going to start singing. But instead he said, “We get these people in our lives. People who change the way we see things. They are so bright, just like the sun. And all you want to do is stay in their light, because it makes everything warm. They make everything better. I still get lost in my head. And I get sad for reasons that aren’t even clear to me, but as long as I know there’s still going to be sun after those cloudy days, it makes it all worth it.”
Josy’s skin was thrumming.
He couldn’t be talking about�
�� it wasn’t about… right? Because that would just be—
“Josiah Erickson,” Quincy said, “I have something to say to you.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
Quincy took a deep breath. “You must be a fake Twitter account peddling realistic disinformation, because I’ve fallen for you.”
The crowd gasped.
Josy gaped up at him.
Quincy nodded. “Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everything else disappears.”
Josy was having trouble breathing.
“Do you work at Lottie’s Lattes? Because I like you a lottie.”
“Oh my god,” Josy managed to say.
“What the hell,” Gustavo agreed. “He came to me a couple of days ago and we looked up online how to tell a hipster you like them. We found a bunch. They’re all pretty good.”
“I want to live in your cow socks so I can be with you every step of the way.”
Gustavo sighed. “Except for that one. That one sounded creepy. I told him not to use it, or the one about—”
“Are you an orphanage? Because I want to give you kids. Oh crap. Wait, I wasn’t supposed to say that one. I take that back. That’s just weird.”
Casey’s face was in his hands.
People in the crowd starting chuckling.
Quincy looked panicked. “I have better ones! Is your name ChapStick? Because you’re da balm. Jesus Christ, that’s so stupid. Who would name their kid ChapStick, aside from most of the celebrities that live in Hollywood? Oh! I got a better one. Do you smoke pot? Because weed be good together.”
Josy’s heart was in this throat. No one had ever cared so much about him to make a weed pun.
“Did you read Dr. Seuss as kid? Because green eggs and damn you’re fine.” Quincy winced. “Wow, this isn’t going like I thought it would. Gus! I’m not doing it right!”
“Do the asexual one!”
“Are you a hardware store? Because I think you’re ace.”
“No, not that one. The other one!”
“What other—oh! I’m a pack of cards, and I want you to be the ace in my deck!”
“Okay, there’s something wrong with your delivery. Maybe try the hipster ones.”