TV Dinners For ThanksGiving

by Dara Ames

Chapter One

It was one of those hectic days at work, but I knew better than try to convince Trey I didn’t have time after school to go grocery shopping for Thanksgiving. He’d been on my butt for the last week to go and get food to serve his family for the holiday, but since I hate to cook, and really don’t know how to fix much of anything but pasta, I put it off. Last night he got that certain look on his face, you know the one I mean… the one that says he’s about ready to apply his hand to my very tender bottom, and told me I’d procrastinated long enough and if I didn’t get my shopping done before he came home today I was going to get a sound spanking.

Yes, I am married to a man who believes in spanking! I don’t know where he gets it from, either. Trey’s Dad certainly never spanks his Mom or she wouldn’t act like such a bossy witch all the time! And I know that his sisters have never had a spanking in their entire life… It shows! So, where Trey gets this quirk, I don’t know. It couldn’t possibly be that I brought it out in him like my girlfriend, Clarissa, always teases. It just comes as naturally to Trey as breathing, and for some reason I don’t understand, I agreed to be a spanked wife! Of course, I try to make sure those spankings don’t happen very often! I’m not fond of sitting on a spanked bottom.

So, in spite of the fact that I had a run-in with two different parents who said their children didn’t have time to do homework because of social obligations, and a report that needed filing with the state on a task force I am a member of, or the fact that my panty hose had a run, I went to the supermarket, and I am happy to have the shopping all done. I really can’t understand why Trey’s family would want to come here for Thanksgiving, but they all seemed eager, and in spite of my grumbling, Trey assured them they were all welcome, all forty-two of them. With Trey and I, that makes forty-four, and if his oldest sister has her baby in the next few days, it will be forty-five, although the baby won’t be ready for a meal by then. It will be wall to wall people, and I am not one bit excited at the prospect. It also means I have to clean every inch of our new home, another task I’m not so fond of, but knowing Trey as I do, he will take all forty-two family members (forty-three if Rachel has the baby) and parade them through the entire house, including my office/work room, which is always a mess, and the laundry room, which is always a mess, too, because I don’t like to fold or put away clean clothes!

I’d just finished putting everything away from my shopping trip and was starting dinner when Trey walked in from the garage. “Hi, honey,” he greeted me with a peck on the cheek. I gave him a smile and enjoyed the sight of him taking off his suit coat. Under the shirt he wore was a spectacular body, and just thinking of all those muscles made me drool a bit. “We’re having salad for dinner?” he asked, watching me pour salad from a bag into two bowls.

“Salad and pasta,” I replied. Since I didn’t order take out, it meant pasta, the only thing I really knew how to cook with any confidence at all. I mean, boil water, dump in pasta, cook for the time the directions printed on the box said to cook, heat up sauce from a jar, and grate parmesan cheese on top. Sometimes I splurged and bought frozen garlic toast and threw it in the oven. Trey thought I could cook, but all I am is good at reading directions.

Trey nodded pleasantly. He never complained about my cooking, so I knew he really loved me. “Did you get the shopping done for Thanksgiving?” he asked, looking at me intently.

“Yes, I went after work,” I replied with a long suffering sigh.

“Did you have enough money?” I could see he was genuinely concerned. We had had to budget to afford to feed all his relatives.

“I did well, and had some left over,” I said proudly.

“That’s a relief, Josie. I’m proud of you, honey. Now all we have to do is get this house cleaned top to bottom, and I’ll be happy to help you with that if you just tell me what needs done,” he offered so earnestly it made me want to take his hand and march him to the bedroom and forget all about eating dinner! The man looked so sexy when he was trying so hard to please me.

But, instead of attacking his body I smiled and said, “Believe me, Trey, there is enough that needs done to keep both of us working our butts off all weekend. If you’d just keep the basement and the laundry room and my office/work room off limits, it wouldn’t be so hard. The rest of the house isn’t as messy.”

“You know that everyone is going to want to see our new home, honey. I can’t very well say, ‘No, that room is off limits.’ It wouldn’t be polite. Besides, if anyone wants to go out into the back yard, and the kids might, they’ll have to go through the laundry room.”

“I suppose. I’d just rather make love all weekend rather than clean house,” I pouted.

“Oh, we can do that, too, babe,” he grinned and gave me a super sexy wink. “Do I have time to change before we eat dinner?” he wanted to know.

“I haven’t dumped in the pasta yet, so go ahead…” While Trey was changing, I got out the salad dressing, Trey’s Italian and my Catalina, and put it on the table with our bowls of salad. I put the garlic toast in the preheated oven and dumped the spaghetti into boiling water. I turned the heat on under the sauce, and stood there and stirred it so it wouldn’t splatter all over the stove. By the time Trey returned to the kitchen, I’d taken up the pasta and put sauce on top, and put our plates on the table.

It always amazed me at how much cheese Trey piled on his pasta, and I sat there and watched him do it yet again, until the sauce was completely covered with white. He looked happy, and I just shook my head and then grated a bit of cheese on my serving. We talked of work, like we usually did, and once we finished, Trey said, “I want some sherbet for dessert.”

“Mmmm, me too!” I agreed. I jumped up to get bowls and spoons while Trey went to the freezer to get the sherbet. I suddenly remembered that opening the freezer door wasn’t a good idea, but my, “No! Wait!” was too late!

Trey had already opened the freezer door and several frozen TV dinners came tumbling down. “What the… What is this, Josie?” he asked, bending down to pick them up. “What in the name of God did you buy this many turkey dinners for?” I could see the exact second he figured it out. His normally warm brown eyes darkened in fury and disbelief. “Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did?”

“Well, why not, Trey? They are a dollar each, and they have turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and peas! A complete dinner, and all we have to do is heat them up and serve them. Voila! Thanksgiving Dinner!” I said proudly. “I bought some cranberry sauce from the deli, too,” I added virtuously. “And, I got Mrs. Smith’s pumpkin pies to bake, and I got Cool Whip for on top. I’ve got it all covered.”

“You. Can’t. Be. Serious!” Trey said in a strangled tone of voice, looking at me as if I had two heads.

“Of course I’m serious! You know I hate to cook, and I stood there for nearly half an hour looking at turkeys, and I didn’t know what to buy… so, I got dinners instead.”

“You are NOT serving my family TV dinners for Thanksgiving dinner, Josephine Adele Drake Pearson! I won’t have it!”

“Then you’d better plan on cooking yourself!” I told him, my famous temper coming to my defense. “I told you that I can’t cook, but you and your big mouth had to invite your entire family for Thanksgiving to see the new house! What were you thinking, Trey? I don’t know how to cook a turkey… so I did the next best thing. Those dinners cost a dollar each. I can’t cook a turkey dinner for that price. Your family can just eat it or go hungry!” I declared.

“I repeat, you are not serving TV dinners to my family for Thanksgiving dinner!”

“I spent our budget on the dinners, and on getting the pies and cranberry sauce. I even got some nice napkins and paper plates for dessert. It’s fine, Trey.”

“It is NOT fine. Good grief, Josie, you know my family by now. You know they expect a traditional dinner.”

“They’re getting a traditional dinner,” I argued.

“A TV dinner is not traditional. Traditional is a real turkey with all the trimmings, cooked here.”

“The turkey is real, and I’ll be cooking it here in the oven!”

“Okay, this is a prank. You’re just doing this to yank my chain. Those boxes are empty, aren’t they? You put everyone up to saving them for you just to get my goat…!” Trey looked at me expectantly. I glared at him. He shook his head. “Josie, you’d better not have blown our budget on TV dinners or I am going to set your sweet little butt on fire!”

“You told me to get the Thanksgiving shopping done, and I did!”

“I did not tell you to waste money buying TV dinners!” Trey exploded.

I suddenly realized that Trey was not as delighted as I thought he would be with my wonderful idea. In fact, he was upset, royally pissed, and I was pretty darn sure that I should have claimed the whole thing a joke when I had the chance… You know what they say about hind sight…? But, I didn’t do that and Trey was livid. Why did I have to pick now to remember that Trey thought frozen dinners tasted like the cardboard box they came in?

I was fully prepared to defend my turkey dinners when I glanced at Trey’s face again and realized he was wearing his ‘Ricky Ricardo’ expression… the one that meant poor Lucy was about to get a spanking! I quickly decided that a strategic retreat was in order, and turned to run. I made it about five steps before Ricky, I mean Trey, overtook me and spun me around with one hand wrapped around my arm just above the elbow. He stopped by the jar where I keep my cooking utensils and grabbed a bowl scraper that some misguided fool, my Great-Aunt Josephine, gave us for a wedding gift! I’m sure my spinster aunt had no clue that the bowl scraper would be put to use in this manner, but Trey thought it absolutely perfect for warming my bottom. I wasn’t nearly so enthused with the idea, and right now I was wishing that I could destroy the darned thing!

Trey pulled me over to the table and pushed me facedown over the hard surface. He started spanking over the seat of my jeans with the scraper and I hollered from the very first smack. I was convinced that making as much noise as possible during a spanking only served to prove that Trey was killing me and would cause him to stop sooner. It didn’t work, but I kept trying anyway. “You are not serving frozen TV dinners to my family for Thanksgiving, young lady!”

“I didn’t intend to serve them frozen, Trey! I was going to heat them up, and transfer the food to our nice plates!” I told him. “It would work!”

“It won’t work!” he spanked harder and I yelled louder. He stopped, I sighed in relief, but Trey wasn’t finished as I thought. He reached underneath me and unfastened my jeans and tugged them down to my knees, and my panties came down with the jeans, leaving my poor bottom all bare and defenseless. The scraper hurt a lot worse when applied to bare skin, and Trey was truly irritated with me and intended to prove it to me. My cries of pain were a lot more genuine now, and I was starting to feel just a bit sorry for my brilliant idea.

“I have never heard of anything more ridiculous in my entire life, Josephine Adele Drake Pearson! TV dinners for Thanksgiving! What were you thinking!” He continued to spank me with the scraper and I was howling in pain.

“Owwww! Come on, Trey, stop this now! Can’t you see you’re taking off my skin?” I complained. “It hurts!” I proclaimed. “Please, honey!” I begged. Nothing worked. That darn scraper fell regularly, seemingly at random, turning my cheeks, my upper thighs, and the really tender area in between a flaming red. I felt like he’d set fire to my bottom!” “Trey! Enough, please! I have to sit and grade papers tonight!” I reminded him, hoping for a bit of sympathy. He knew how hard I had to work. “Oh, honey, please stop now!”

“You wasted at least forty-five dollars on worthless cardboard dinners, and I guarantee you will be using them for your lunches for the next forty-five school days, Mrs. Pearson, is that understood?”

“You can’t be serious!” I declared. “I don’t even like turkey that much! And I hate peas!”

“Tough! Those dinners are your lunch until they are gone, and there will be no exceptions without my express approval.”

“You’re being mean!” I accused. The scraper went straight for my sit spots for the next two minutes straight, while I burst into tears and apologized for calling Trey ‘mean’. “I didn’t mean it, honey! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Oh, damn it, I said I’m sorry!” I yelled at him.

“You should be sorry for trying to foist those dinners off on my family, Josie!” he scolded, and I finally heard the hurt in his voice, and I was suddenly contrite.

“I wasn’t thinking of it like that, honey,” I confessed. “I’m sorry.” Blessed relief! Trey stopped the spanking. It was too late to save my butt, however, and I would be standing to teach the next day for sure and certain. He pulled me up and then gave me one hard shake.

“I am very disappointed in you and your attitude, young lady. This Thanksgiving dinner is important to me. I want my family to feel welcome in our home, and while I know you don’t like to cook, I certainly expected you to do better than TV dinners. You’ve been to my family’s dinners. You know how things are done… what is traditional for us. You’ve had at least three weeks to ask my Mom or Grandma or one of my sisters for help; now, little girl, you are in some serious trouble with your husband.”

His scolding words accomplished what the spanking hadn’t; I started crying. I genuinely felt bad that Trey was so upset with me. My brilliant idea to make Thanksgiving simple and easy didn’t seem brilliant any longer. It seemed like the lazy, easy way. I was truly sorry. Before I could open my mouth to speak, Trey started pulling me through the house, in spite of the fact my jeans and panties were down below my knees and preventing me from walking. When we reached the foot of the stairway leading upstairs, he bent down and hoisted me over his shoulder. I was infuriated and let him know it by trying to throw myself off his shoulder. He simply reached up and spanked my burning backside all the way up the steps, and I swear he went even slower so that he could spank longer! He carried me down the hallway, but instead of going to our bedroom (hopefully to make love and tell me I was all forgiven), he took me into my office/work room, and sat me on my desk chair with a thump. “Ow!” I immediately tried to get up because the scratchy fabric did not feel good on my flaming backside, but Trey pushed me back down.

“Sit still unless you want another spanking, Josie. Believe me, I can give you another paddling right now and I won’t feel a bit guilty for doing it,” he promised. I believed him. He was still wearing the Ricky Ricardo face, which did not bode well for me or my throbbing sit upon.

“You are going to sit right here for the next two hours, looking up how to buy and prepare a turkey for fifty people. You are going to plan a Thanksgiving dinner, and find the recipes you need. You are going to make a complete shopping list, and once you are finished, we are going to the store and spend money we don’t have to pay for everything we need to make dinner for my family.”

“But, Trey! I have papers to grade!” I reminded him.

“Tough. I’ve given you three weeks to do this, Josephine. Now I am taking charge and you will do as I say. You’ll have to figure out how to find the time to grade those papers later.”

“Just like you would put off something for your job if I asked you to?” I asked angrily. “Besides, how do I know what recipes are good?” I whined.

“Aren’t you the one who always says anyone can learn to do anything if they can read?” he threw my own words at me. The same words I instilled in my students on a daily basis, trying to convince them that reading well was truly a necessity in life if you intended to do well. It just wasn’t fair. Now I had to prove that I was right… and do it by cooking a huge Thanksgiving dinner for nearly fifty people. Not fair at all! Happy Thanksgiving to me!