Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, that honor goes to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, and Brad Falchuk, while the PSA and the jokes belong to the brilliant boys at RoosterTeeth.

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Setting: Around Thanksgiving time

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Breadstix, rented out by the always generous Mr. Kristopher Harmon, was abuzz as Rachel Berry and Noah "Puck" Puckerman came over a mound to find their glee club teammate, Jack Harmon, putting the finishing touches on what looked like a well-prepared picnic.

The blonde tenor turned when he heard his best friend and future stepbrother arrive and clapped his hands together merrily. "Guys," Jack began, "as I'm sure you know, today is a special day." He paused for dramatic effect. "Thanksgiving."

That was all Puck needed to hear. "Awesome! When do we eat?"

Jack waved off his lazy stepbrother's question. "I thought that since today is an honored tradition, it would be appropriate to recreate the spirit of that original momentous day."

"Okay, we get it," Puck groaned. "Less talking, more eating."

"Unfortunately," Jack continued, "it's been almost four hundred years now since the first Thanksgiving, so some of the little details have been lost to history."

Puck's thoughts remained the same. "Yeah, okay. When do we eat?"

"But," Jack declared, a smile stretching his facial muscles, "using the power of the Internet, I was able to read a bunch of historical documents on the holiday," his eyes seemed to slit suspiciously as he revealed his source, "which for some reason were all authored by first-graders, and accompanied by drawings of their favorite Thanksgiving Day food." Jack stepped back to show his gift for their meal…"Severed human hands that have been colored and dressed to look like birds."

Puck leaned forward to grab one of the turkeys…suddenly realizing what Jack was serving.

"What?" Rachel shouted, trying to catch her breath at the sheer horror before her.

Rachel and Puck felt their jaws detach and fall to the ground as they looked at their leader and the plate of hands disbelievingly.

"Um, I'm not hungry anymore," Puck announced, looking away from the table.

"Jack," Rachel said, "people didn't eat hands. They ate turkey. Little kids just drew turkeys by tracing their fingers."

"Where did he get the hands?" Puck asked, bringing a whole new disturbing level to an already bizarre situation.

"Why would they do that?" Jack asked. "Turkeys look nothin' like hands!"

"Because they're kids!" Rachel replied. "I don't know, their teacher probably told them to do it."

"Seriously," Puck was still on this subject, "where did he get the hands?"

Jack shook his head. "Well that's just ridiculous! Why would a teacher tell them that?" He snorted at Rachel's suggestion. "Hand-shaped turkeys? It's no wonder we lost the literacy wars!"

"Where did he get the hands?"

"I'll bet all their other historical documents are wrong too," Jack suggested facetiously.

"You mean your online six-year-old historians could be wrong?" Rachel with a zinger. "Yeah, you might wanna fact check." And a burn. "What else did they say?"

She's just a glutton for punishment, huh?

Jack took her up on the challenge. "I found another historian who said Thanksgiving was the day when all the Pokémons taught the Jedis how to grow crops."

Rachel shook her head, feeling the tumors starting to form in her brain.

"No," she said strongly. "Thanksgiving's the day the Settlers and Natives sat down at a table and shared a harvest meal together. That's why I took the liberty of inviting our mortal enemies, the Troubletones, to sit down with us today."

She turned and there was Brittany.

"Hello," she said happily.

"Or just the Troubletone since only one accepted our invitation."

Jack's eyes lit up. "Heh-heh," he laughed. "Excellent plan, Rachel. Invite 'em to dinner, then shoot 'em in the back. Classic holiday gotcha."

"Jack," Rachel scolded her friend, "that's not the spirit of Thanksgiving." But, now that she thought about it. "Well, you know, not until years later, at least."

"No shooting in the back?" Jack felt desolated by this new rule. "Worst. Dinner Party. Ever. Of all time."

Rachel watched her best friend slump into a chair, his head hung.

"We've all brought dishes from our culture," she said, getting a slight rise from him. "Jack, you brought your…" She didn't know how to approach this one. "…awful, hand thing."

Brittany caught sight of the hand "turkeys". "Oh, man, I totally love those!"

Jack's eyes lit up again. Maybe this Troubletone would be good company.

"And, Noah," Rachel looked at Puck, "you brought," she rolled her eyes, "individually wrapped snack cakes and cheese dip."

"The traditional fare of my people," Puck declared proudly.

"And, I," Rachel continued brightly, "have prepared a customary Native American meal of:" she pointed to the table, "maize. Yum."

"Awesome!" Puck declared before realizing something. "What's maize?"

"It's like corn."

"Yes!"

"But, totally inedible."

"Damn it!" Beat. "Wait, inedible means un-eatable, right?"

"Yes."

"Damn it!"

Rachel turned her attention to the blonde Cheerio. "What did you bring, Brittany?"

Brittany reached into her bag and pulled out a pie streaked in blue hairs.

"I brought my Grandmother's famous hair pie!" she proclaimed, holding the pie up for everyone in the room to see.

Puck was thunderstruck, Rachel's head cocked to the side in confusion, and Jack opened his mouth, but could only form a constant cluster. You know, that thing where words are completely jettisoned from your vocabulary and you sound like a pirate who's been kicked in the nuts all day? Well…you get what I mean.

"Hubuwyuguh- huh?" was Jack's reply.

Brittany placed the pie on the table, admiring her handiwork. "My Grandmother said her hair pie, was a huge hit with the soldiers, so I knew that it would be perfect for today."

"That's not –" Puck's jaw finally returned to it's usual place, "–what?"

"When she was in college," Brittany explained, the smile never leaving her face, "she would give it to all the soldiers returning from war, and they loved it! It made her the most popular girl in town!" Brittany paused for a moment, studying the pie a little more before telling her friends. "She never told me the recipe though, so I had to make some guestimates."

Jack stood up. "Theorist," he said, "I think we need have a talk about the culinary arts." He bid her to follow him into the kitchen. "And probably some other stuff that you should already know about."

"Okay," Brittany followed him into the kitchen, "I love talking."

Their conversation could not be heard from the kitchen with the exception of a few scant statements, such as: "I dreamt about that last night" from Brittany and Jack explaining about the "continuation of the species."

Rachel smiled at the idea that one of her friends was helping another one. "Ah," she said, "look at them."

"I can't," a queasy Puck said. "The door is closed."

"Still, that's the Thanksgiving spirit."

"Yeah, whatever, I think I'm gonna go lie down, and then throw up."

Puck walked off, Rachel's attitude still chipper.

"Which is also another big part of Thanksgiving. Way to go, Puck."

No sooner had Puck lay down in one of the booths did Brittany scream at the top of her lungs:

"What?"

She was out of the kitchen in a heartbeat.

"Grandma, no!"

Jack followed after her, a serious expression on his face.

"And don't even get me started on the gobble-gobble," he concluded.

And with that, Rachel, Jack, Brittany, and a sleeping Puck took their seats to enjoy the first, and possibly only, Glee club thanksgiving get together in history. Well, if by 'enjoy', I mean, 'suffer through', then, they did.

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A/N: Ah, easily one of my favorite PSAs and, with Thanksgiving being tomorrow, my timing couldn't have been more perfect.