Today local dead grandmother Mildred Freemore announced that, after 20 years of floating above the Thanksgiving table, she’s officially had it with her memory being defamed by everyone associating her with “grandma’s famous Jell-O salad.”
“Of all the ways they could honor my memory, they chose my orange Jell-O salad with shredded carrots and canned pineapple, poured into a wreath mold so each one of those bastards could laugh when a jiggly slab is plopped onto their plates,” said Mildred, fuming. “My useless offspring don’t understand that when I started making my Jell-O salad in the 1950s, it was considered a cutting-edge attempt to look like I wasn’t lazy while also saving money. The secret sauce was adding pineapple. None of my friends were doing that. They were still making aspic with gross shit like shrimp, peas, and hard-boiled eggs. I was basically a goddamn gastropod! But do you think I would still be making that today if I hadn’t died 20 years ago? Hell, no! I would probably make Michelin Star Chef David Everitt-Matthias’ chocolate and brown butter ganache with coconut and avocado ice cream. Why? Because I only always wanted the best for my family—but, sure, make the grandchildren hate me for an eternity! That’s the thanks I get …”
Upon hearing about her dead grandmother’s concerns getting eerily muttered from somewhere in the hallway, Betsy Freemoore wasn’t entirely sure how to honor her grandmother this Thanksgiving.
“Would it even be Thanksgiving without Grandma Mildred’s famous Jell-O salad? I know no one really likes it except for my mom, but every time that glistening, jiggly orange and yellow gelatine plops out of my wreath mold with an embarrassing fart sound, I think of my grandmother fondly,” Betsy reminisced. “Without serving her famous Jell-O salad, we may completely forget about her. I can’t think of another time of year when we’re all gathered together to gaze upon one of her chunky masterpieces to lovingly remember a time when busy cooks like grandma half-assed it in gelatin mold form.”
As of press time, Mildred was planning to possess her grandaughter’s cat, Jason, so she could jump on the Thanksgiving dinner table and take a giant poop right in the center of the orange Jell-O wreath.
