6:43 PM, Thanksgiving Day
Carrie’s cell phone rings. It’s Miranda. Carrie picks up.
Carrie: Is this the annual I’m-in-hell call?
Miranda: I’m in hell. Are you in hell? Please tell me you’re in hell.
Carrie: Well….
Miranda: Carrie, Steve is leading my entire family in a Piano Man sing-along. Please don’t let me be in hell all by myself.
Carrie: I slept in my cousin’s room last night…the woman is 38 and there’s a Bon Jovi poster taped over her bed. Does that qualify as hell?
Miranda: You’ve traded John James Preston for Jon Bon Jovi.
Carrie: John James Preston is having the time of his life. My aunt told him that he’s as handsome as Burt Reynolds and now they’re doing tequila shots.
Miranda: Well, I’m hiding in my dead mother’s pantry so that I don’t have to listen to everyone fawn over Steve. Why does everyone love him so much? I mean, the man waited in line to see Captain America on opening night. Does anyone else find this odd?
Carrie: Doesn’t that just make him a good father or something?
Miranda: Brady wasn’t with him! Do you think I’d let him stay up that late on a Thursday ni—Oh shit, they’ve moved on to Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. My son is screwed.
Carrie: Your son is fine.
Miranda: Carrie, my son is a ginger who knows every word to Billy Joel’s entire canon. Would you sleep with a Billy Joel-loving ginger?
Carrie: Well, no but—
Miranda: There is no but, Carrie. I just pray that he’s gay. Gingers fair much better in the gay communit—why do you keep breathing like that? Are you smoking?
Carrie: I bummed it from my Nana so it’s okay—Oh wait, Charlotte’s on the other line, hold on. Char?
Charlotte: HAPPY THANKSGIVING! How are—Lily, honey, we already had dessert, but if you still feel hungry, mommy will cut you another slice! Carrie, I don’t know what to do, she’s already had three pieces, but I don’t want to give her a complex and make her A-N-O-R-E-X-I-C.
Carrie: Charlotte, she’s eight. Can’t she spell?
Charlotte: Oh we had the most beautiful Thanksgiving! Wesley and Leslie are finally trying for a baby! I gave her all my old fertility books.
Carrie: I can’t believe they worked things out.
Charlotte: It’s the acupuncture Carrie. She hadn’t had an O-R-G-A-S-M since her pony died when she was 15, but then she did three sessions with Dr. Mao and she’s cured!
Carrie: Nobody loses their ability to orgasm because their horse dies Charlotte.
Charlotte: It happened! It happened to my brother Wesley’s wife turned ex-wife turned wife again Leslie!
Carrie: Charlotte, I’ve got Miranda on the other line, and she’s in the middle of an existential crisis.
Charlotte: Oh, she’s just cuckoo! How could anyone have an existential crisis on Thanksgiving?
Carrie: Charlotte, my phone is beeping, I’m getting off now…Miranda is that you? What’d you do, hang up and call back?
Miranda: You were taking too long.
Carrie: Well, Charlotte’s on cloud nine. Wesley and Leslie are back together.
Miranda: Ahh, Wesley and Leslie. Didn’t Samantha sleep with Wesley once?
Carrie: I have no idea, but I’ll go with yes.
Miranda: By the way, my sister asked about you. She said, “how’s that little friend of yours, the one who was your date at mom’s funeral?”
Carrie: I gave that woman my last tampon at your wedding and she still doesn’t know my name?
Miranda: What can I say? She’s a bitch.
Carrie: Okay, enough. Tell me one thing you’re thankful for.
Miranda: Hmm…does Magda count?
Carrie: Samantha just texted me. “Going to Jean Georges for dinner and then he’s coming here for dessert. That’s what I call a Happy Thanksgiving.”
Miranda: Huh. I’ve never been attracted to guys with French accents.
Carrie: Well then I guess you’re also thankful Steve doesn’t have a French accent.
Miranda: Oh no, he found me! Steve, I’m talking to Carrie. Stev—Carrie, he’s mouthing the words to I Love You Just the Way You Are. Steve! Carrie, what am I going to do with him?
Carrie: Okay, my friend, go be with your husband. I have to make sure Big and my aunt haven’t run away together. Cocktails Monday 6 PM?
Miranda: Are you kidding? Of course. That’s my only incentive for getting through the weekend.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Almost Carrie
Emily Sproch is a writer and a Sex and the City tour guide. Each Friday, she chronicles the fine line between reality and fiction in her column “Almost Carrie.”
Anna
What a treat! And just like Samantha to text and not talk. So much quicker. Thanks for the smiles, Em.
Meghan
Yay! um… did you write for this show? how many times have you seen… each… episode? love you em.