My Grandfather was a Baptist Preacher, so the prayer before Thanksgiving dinner was always important and long. I remember that on the year we turned ten my cousin Ray Jr. and I were allowed to move from the kiddie table to the grown up table. Even thought I didn't do anything except get a year older I felt so proud of myself. I could've scaled Mount Olympus and wouldn't feel as proud as I did sitting between my cousin Ray Jr and my very cool Uncle Luis.

Most of my family didn't like my Uncle Luis because he drank beer and every once in a while a "dirty word" would come out of his mouth. It seems that My Grandma had a list of "dirty words" we weren't supposed to say because if we said them the Devil would come through the floor and take us straight to Hell. My aunt used to say that my Uncle Luis was so bad that they didn't want him in Hell because he'd try to take over. I guess that's why the Devil never came up through the floor to take him straight to Hell whenever he said one of the "dirty words" I didn't care if I sat next o my Uncle Luis. I liked him and besides who cared where I sat as long as I was on the grown-up table.

One of the good things about the grown-up table was that that's where the food was so you go to see it all and you got to serve yourself. I could serve myself a plate full of mashed potatoes and not have a single pea of my Aunt Emma's nasty pea salad that always seemed to taste like dirt mixed with mayonnaise - at least that's what it tasted like to me. Everyone else seemed to like it especially my cousin Ray Jr. I guess he had no choice since it was his mom who made it - he had to eat it and he had to like it.

I was ten years old, sitting at the grown up table, reaching for the bowl of mashed potatoes when my grandpa gave me "the look" It was the look that said, "I don't care if you're my first born grandson, you don't serve yourself until after the prayer has been said or fire and brimstone will rain down on you like a plague and the Devil will come up through the floor and take you straight to Hell" Yeah, it was one intense look.

I pulled my hand back from the mashed potato bowl and slowly bowed my head as my grandfather began to bless the food, bless the people who made the food, bless the people who grew the food, etc. "Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for allowing us to gather here in your presence…"

I opened my eyes and took a peek at the food. There was so much and it all looked so good except for my Aunt Emma's nasty sweet pea salad that looked more like alien vomit than anything else. It was at that moment sometime between realizing that my Aunt Emma's sweet pea salad looked like alien vomit and the time my grandfather was blessing the hands that prepared the food that I felt it. I felt the little rumbles in my stomach, not the rumbles caused by being hungry, but the rumbles of trapped gas wanting to escape.

I couldn't just get up in the middle of my grandfather's prayer and I couldn't just let one at the dinner table while my whole family was waiting to eat Thanksgiving dinner because then I’m sure the Devil would come up through the floor and take me straight to Hell. I decided to piggy-back a prayer of my own on my grandfather's - I figured if God was listening to anyone, he would be listening to a Preacher as he gave thanks, so I started to say my own prayer in my head.

Oh Lord, I'm thankful for this food
I'm thankful for my family
And believe it or not, I really try to be good.

My grandpa says you live in my heart
So, you should know before I do
That I really have to fart

I don't want to pass gas
Especially now
Because I think my mom would whip my ass

If you get me through this
I promise to be good to my little brother
And I'll even listen to my mother

I'll listen in school and try to be real smart
Just please Lord Don't let me fart

Thank you for your time Sir, Amen

I sat there waiting for some kind of miracle. I figured if He could part the red sea, He could keep me from farting during Thanksgiving dinner, but nothing happened except that my stomach rumbled some more. I squished my butt cheeks together real tight and came to conclusion that God wasn't listening to my little ten year old prayer. I felt the gas going through me and then it happened - pfftt, and just like that it was over. I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me, but they weren't. Everyone had their eyes closed and their head bowed as my grandfather continued blessing everyone and everything. I looked up and whispered a quick "thank you" to God and then closed my eyes and bowed my head.

Everything was good. My grandfather finished his prayer and just at that moment is when it hit me. It was the most stinky, awful smell in the whole history of smells. I have to admit that had been another time or another place I would have been proud of that one - it’s not every ten year old kid that could let one like that, but at that moment I was afraid someone would know it was me. I just watched everyone, hoping they couldn't tell it was me. I did the only thing any rational ten year old would do. I looked over at my cousin Ray and pushed him, "You're so disgusting man!"

My Aunt Emma came around the table and pulled my cousin off by his arm. "Raymond Jr. You know better than that! You want the Devil to come through the floor and take you straight to Hell?" she took him to the other room and I could hear her scolding him about his lack of manners.

For a second, I felt bad for my cousin. I thought that I should stand up and admit to my crime, but then I thought "My grandparents love Ray Jr. more than they love me so they'll forgive him faster" So, I let him take the rap on this one and besides if the Devil was going to come up through the floor and take someone straight to Hell, I would rather he take my cousin Ray Jr than me.