Well, it's that time of year again. The Holidays are upon us. And I couldn't be happier. It's the one time of year people get together and do what they should do every day: eat as much as they can and pass out in front of the television. Normally I like a nice big plate of grilled plankton and three or four ice cream cakes for dessert. But turkey is no slouch in the food department.

When I first moved to New York it was a different time. It was earlier. Life seemed - to me anyway - extremely complex. Instead of swimming around all day and singing with my stomach, I was walking the streets of New York trying to make sense of my new strange world. I was walking home one day - to my seventeenth floor walk up on the bowery - and I met the nicest guy lurking in an alley. He had on an overcoat and he beckoned to me, smiling with good intentions. I'd met a friend! Well, as it would turn out, he was a knife salesman and he seemed determined to prove just how sharp his products were. I let out a primal (whale) scream. He fled.

I walked down the street depressed. Then I saw a happy family walking home together. They saw me and, they must have noticed my depression, because they invited me home with them. The fact that I was a three thousand or so pound whale seemed not to matter. "It's Thanksgiving!" they exclaimed.

I was sitting at their dinner table and they were cutting the turkey and trying to make me feel at home. I suddenly felt really hungry and maybe I got a little carried away, because I looked up and realized that - what I thought was my share of the food - I can eat hundreds of pounds in a day - was actually the serving platter with all of their food. I apologized. They weren't angry though. I think they were in shock. They seemed to be impressed that I had put an entire turkey in my mouth and down into my belly in one big bite. Along with everything else: cranberries, mashed potatoes, stuffing, salad, bread - I had unknowingly eaten their entire feast.

It was a big lesson: the disparity between the stomach of a human vs. a whale is huge!

I apologized. I used their phone and called Carvel and told them what I had done. An hour later, ten ice cream cakes were delivered to their doorstep as well as a new turkey. They were overwhelmed with happiness. Or so they said later. At the time, though, I was passed out in front of their television, snoring obnoxiously through my blowhole; a sound like a cross between a chainsaw and a grizzly bear with severe sinus problems.

That was the first time I'd experienced the generosity of Americans on Thanksgiving. I've had a fondness for the holiday ever since. Try as I might to explain it to my good friend Cookie Puss, who spends his days on the planet Birthday, it's a holiday you just have to experience for yourself.

And nothing goes better with Thanksgiving dinner than an ice cream cake from Carvel. I'm contractually bound to say that, being as I am their spokes-whale, but it's absolutely true. Pecan pie is nice; but it's no ice cream cake! I think the original pilgrims would agree with me. If they had freezers back then, you can bet that they would have finished off their fabled feast with a glorious Carvel ice cream cake.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Fudgie