Grace

My monkey wrote this with my typewriter:

It was Thanksgiving and the plated turkey was placed on the table.  The family members and guests wooed and ahhed as they sat down.  There were five people in all. The grandmother sat beside her four year-old granddaughter, Rachael, whose father, Dan, was there with his girlfriend (not the baby’s mamma), Donna.  Dan’s younger brother Robert popped a bottle of sparkling wine and poured a glass for everyone except for the little girl.

“I want some,” she said.

Everyone smiled or laughed except for her.

“No, Rachael,” said her Uncle Robert, “This is yucky juice, you don’t want this.  We got you something special.”

Robert went the fridge and retrieved a bottle of sparkling apple cider which he poured for his niece.

“Cheers,” he said.

“Cheers,” she replied happily.

Her father Dan was cutting and serving the turkey and people piled steaming portions of food on their plates.

“Rachael,” said Dan, “do you want to say grace?”

“No,” said the little girl, looking around at everyone.

“Please?” said her grandma, “won’t you be a good girl and say grace?”

The girl moped, “Aww, no!  You do it Uncle Rob.”

“I did it last year.  You do it,” he said. 

“It’s not a big deal, Rachael” said Donna, “you can say whatever you want to say.”

“Fine,” said the little girl. 

The girl put her hands together and closed her eyes.  Everyone else did the same.

“Dead God, I mean dear God,” said little Rachel, “Umm, thank you for everything and thank you for grandma and daddy.”  She paused and thought for a moment, then said, “Thank you, and fuck!”

Jaws dropped in shock. Rachael was afraid. 

“Excuse me!” yelled the grandma.

“Oh my God,” said Uncle Robert.

Before the woman could reach over and slap the child her father swung in and scooped her up.  Rachael cried as her father whisked her down the hall into the bedroom and slammed the door.

“Don’t ever say that!” he scolded her.

She was crying in fear of being spanked.  Her father understood that his daughter did not know the meaning of what she had said, and because in all likelihood she had heard it from him or one of his friends, he felt that he could not justifiably spank her. 

“What?” she pleaded and she wiped away her tears.

“Rachael,” said her father, “you can never say that word, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” she said, breathing in her sobs.  “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Her father soon picked her up and hugged her and she hugged him back.

“You shouldn’t say, ‘dead God,’ either,” he said, smiling at her.

She giggled a little and said, “Yeah, I didn’t want to because I wanted to say dear God, not dead God.”

“Alright,” he said, “let’s go back out there.”

“Wait,” said his daughter.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is grandma gonna spank me?”

“No, you’re gonna say sorry to her.  She won’t spank you.”

“Yes, she tried to hit me.”

“She won’t hit you either.”

“Can I sit with you and Auntie Donna?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Daddy”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.  I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said. 

The man opened the door and walked down the hall with his daughter in his arms.