Thanksgiving Dirty Quail

Channel your inner Catholic schoolgirl and, for god’s sakes, pull your pinafore down over your whore’s knees, sister.

Story and photos by Linda of Salty Seattle -

Photo ©Linda Miller Nicholson

Thanksgiving does not always go according to plan. This is a historical fact, embedded in the Thanksgiving code since that very first dinner, several centuries ago. Do you think the Native Americans wanted to share their wampum with the whities? Hell no, but did they had to because of some shit that went down behind the teepee one fateful night between the Chief’s daughter and a drunken sailor. That’s the real Thanksgiving they don’t teach in school, kids, but they may start, you know, now that they’re gonna teach gay marriage and all.

But there’s a lesson in all this. If you’re a tart on Thanksgiving, you could eff things up for a whole generation of mohawked mofos, so keep it PG, like a chastity belt clad slice of humble pie. Here’s the skinny, from the Miss Manners of modern times, the Spineless Quail. She lost her spine right before she got dunked in a sous vide water bath in an unfortunate deboning incident that she attributes to her quick descent to the dark side. She wants you to know that it’s true what they say about swathing yourself in a hot bath of duck fat- it IS a gateway drug. She also wants you to know that she saw what happened inside your American Apparel chartreuse briefs when you read the word “deboning,” and she wasn’t amused, but she was a little turned on, she couldn’t help it.

Hey there, darling, I’m Spineless Quail. I would languidly lick that dollop of cranberry sauce off your collar, but I don’t have a head, and consequently, a tongue. I’m going to explain to you how to behave at the wild Thanksgiving fete you’ll undoubtedly find yourself attending, you big slut, you.

First of all, GOOD girls sit like THIS:

Photo ©Linda Miller Nicholson

Channel your inner Catholic schoolgirl and, for god’s sakes, pull your pinafore down over your whore’s knees, sister. I know I’m naked in that picture, but that doesn’t give YOU permission to disrobe. In fact, if you can confine your Thanksgiving wardrobe choices to the J. Crew section of your closet, this will be much easier on all of us.

Now I know I can’t convince you to behave ALL afternoon, and after a glass of mulled 4Loko, or seven, you may develop some tingling sensations. Aside: if the tingling sensations are accompanied by itchy redness and the only thing you remember about last Friday night was waking up next to a drag queen in a bathtub full of dildos, you may want to get that looked at.

But back to the tingles, I suppose it’s ok to let you know that SOME girls sit like THIS:

Photo ©Linda Miller Nicholson

It’s not recommended, and it will certainly cause your pinafore to rise an inch or two, thus revealing a swath of your gloriously Callipygian haunch, but I know who I’m talking to, and let’s just say that No Child Left Behind may have helped you along your way to the GED more than others.

Here’s the thing – somewhere between the fourth serving of tepid turkey (Which I don’t deign to eat by the way. What do I look like, a barbaric cannibal?) and Aunt Patty’s pumpkin pie, you’re going to get certain urges. Some attribute this to a thing called tryptophan, but I know you, you little slut, and I SAW you deliberately dose yourself with ketamine, so don’t play coy.

Here’s the thing. Under no circumstances are you to sit like THIS:

Photo ©Linda Miller Nicholson

Because the girls who sit that way get THIS like that:

Photo ©Linda Miller Nicholson

Do you know what that is, Strumpet? That’s a cornichon. It’s old, nubbly, and full of warts. It’s been PICKLED, and it’s covered in viscosity-bereft jus that smells like douche. Let me ask you this, sister, do you WANT a CORNICHON inside your COOCHIE? I didn’t think so. The moral of the story is that

Good girls sit like this,

Some girls sit like this,

But the girls who sit like this,

Get this like that.

Photo ©Linda Miller Nicholson

Now get after Thanksgiving like the trollop that you are, but be mindful of this lesson, it will serve you well in fending off the smarmy advances of Uncle Herbert, who as you recall from every single Thanksgiving past, does treat it like the kind of party where it’s ok to stick his dick in the mashed potatoes.

2 Responses to “Thanksgiving Dirty Quail”

  1. Hoffman says:

    IS THIS FOR REAL? I don’t know if I can handle the brilliance here, people. I’m in awe.

  2. Shay Butta says:

    Girl I’m dying lol.. this is brilliant!! Lol