Tuesday night, I went to my uncle's house for the Jewish New Year, and had a really delicious home-cooked meal (I've enjoyed the leftovers for lunch and dinner today, too). What happens at lots of holidays in my family is that my grandma will make some of the food and bring it, and my aunt's mother will make some of the food and bring it... I like to imagine there's this subtle undercurrent of competition over whose food is better, not so much between the two of them, but whenever I eat something my aunt's mother made, if I don't immediately retch, or god forbid I actually tell her it's good, I imagine my mom giving me a dirty look, as if I'm not being loyal to my grandma, and betraying my side of the family. Maybe it just makes the night more interesting to imagine that people are really keeping score of what gets eaten. I imagine this isn't unique to my family. I was telling my roommate this tonight, and he thought it sounded like a sketch idea. So... here's my sketch. I think it's kind of funny.

HOLIDAY DINNER

(Lights up on a holiday table. On one end of the table sits Grandma Bertha. At the other end of the table sits Grandma Ethel. Billy and Barbara, their grandchildren sit in the middle. Mom and Dad enter with trays of food.)

MOM (setting down her trays)
Dessert is going to be a treat tonight, kids. Grandma Bertha made these delicious brownies and this fantastic apple pudding. They look great, mom.

(Mom sits down next to Grandma Bertha.)

DAD (setting down his trays)
Yes, those look… okay. But Grandma Ethel made these unbelievable jelly cookies, and the best pound cake you can imagine. Mom, I had a piece in the kitchen and I had an orgasm.

(Dad sits down next to Grandma Ethel.)

MOM
Well, I’m having an orgasm just thinking about that apple pudding. Dig in, kids. Who wants some apple pudding?

(Neither kid says anything.)

MOM
(sternly) I said, who wants some of this delicious apple pudding? Eat the apple pudding, kids. It’s unbelievable.

(Mom puts some apple pudding on two plates and gives them to Billy and Barbara.)

BARBARA
I’ll just have a cookie, actually.

(Dad hands her a cookie.)

DAD
Excellent choice.

MOM
Honey, don’t influence the kids. They want to eat Grandma Bertha’s apple pudding. Don’t force Grandma Ethel’s cookies down their throat. It’s not Grandma Ethel’s fault she’s not as good a cook as Grandma Bertha here.

DAD
Sweetie, she asked for a cookie.

MOM
She didn’t mean it. Did you honey?

BARBARA
I just wanted a cookie, Mom. It’s just a cookie.

(Mom gives Barbara a dirty look.)

MOM (to Bertha)
I’m sure she loves you anyway, Grandma Bertha. Even if she’s doing a terrible job of showing it.

BILLY
(very tentatively) Can I have a brownie…

DAD
(accusatory) How’d that math test go today…

BILLY
… and a piece of pound cake?

(DAD nods approvingly. He gives Billy a piece of cake.)

BILLY
Just a small piece, Dad.

DAD
(sternly) You mean a big piece.

BILLY
Okay. Whatever you say.

BARBARA
This cookie is really good, Grandma Ethel.

MOM
She didn’t mean that, mom. She didn’t mean that.

DAD
Let her make up her own mind, honey. She likes the cookie. It’s not a surprise. (to Ethel, like she’s an infant) You’re the winner, mom. You’re the winner!

BILLY
I like the pound cake… and the brownie….

MOM
Which one do you like more?

BILLY
They’re both very good.

MOM
But which one do you like more?

BILLY
I like them both.

MOM
Pick one, Billy. PICK ONE!

(Billy runs from the table in tears.)

DAD
See what you did. Why do you make them choose? It’s not a competition.

(Barbara spits out some apple pudding.)

DAD
She spit out the apple pudding! She spit it out!

(Dad gets up and does a victory dance around the table.)

MOM
What is wrong with you… Barbara? Put that apple pudding back in your mouth. It’s delicious. Put it back. Put it back in there.

(Mom reaches across the table, picks up the half-chewed pudding, and shoves it back in her daughter’s mouth.)

DAD
You’re torturing her, honey. My mom’s cookies? Completely pleasant experience. Your mom’s apple pudding? Torture.

MOM
Eat a brownie, honey.

DAD
Never!

MOM
I said, eat a brownie.

DAD
Never in a million years. But I’m going to eat twelve cookies.

(Dad takes twelve cookies and shoves them into his mouth.)

DAD
And this entire pound cake.

(Dad picks up the entire pound cake and tries to eat it.)

MOM
Yeah, well I can’t get enough of this apple pudding, mom. It’s so good.

(Mom sticks her face into the bowl of apple pudding and tries to devour it whole.)

BARBARA
Can I have another cookie please?

(Dad gets up and does another victory dance around the table. As he passes Mom, he shoves her head further into the bowl of apple pudding.)

(Billy re-enters, holding a fruit cake.)

BILLY
Mom, Dad, what about this fruitcake that Uncle Tom sent?

(Mom and Dad both leap onto Billy and tear him apart, limb by limb.)

Blackout.