Ask Ms. Moose

She’s here for all your fall creature problems
By Brad Fitzpatrick

Well, looks like we’re here for another edition of What Ails You? I’m your host, Ms. Moose, here to answer all your burning questions.

Dear Ms. Moose,
My idiot son-in-law has gifted us a 60-pound turkey for Thanksgiving. Since, for some reason, he and my daughter always spend holidays on the Vineyard with his idiot family, our gathering will consist of myself, my husband, and my husband’s 106-year-old great-grandmother, who lives exclusively on hot Jell-O and snuff. My question is: How do you cook a 60-pound turkey? Is 30 pounds of turkey per person too much? And what do we tell Grandma, who has already named the bird Gobbledegook and has taken to feeding him hard candy and reading aloud to him from Reader’s Digest?
—Thanks, But No Thanks

Dear Thanks,
Pick up some extra Jell-O and let Grandma and Gobbledegook have a nice Thanksgiving together at home. Take your husband out for a pu pu platter and a movie, and be thankful you don’t have more turkeys to deal with.

Dear Ms. Moose,
Last night I was watching the game when I hear my cat, Tom Brady, crunching away at his food bowl in the kitchen. But come to find out, there’s Tom sitting in the recliner next to me! I creep into the kitchen, and what do you know? It’s a family of raccoons. The two littles are chowing down on the kibble, but big mama’s got hold of my last Pringles can, giving me the evil eye. This morning the raccoons were gone along with my chips! Is there any hope for those Pringles?

Dear Ed,
You’re gonna have to say goodbye to the Pringles. Raccoons love a good chip.

Dear Ms. Moose,
I live in an evergreen-rich area of New Hampshire, and my front yard contains the only deciduous tree in town, a big old maple. Every year during foliage time, tourists pour in from who knows where and park all up and down the street to gawk at it. I’ve even found SUV tracks on my lawn! When they leave, I find latte cups and old smartphones littered all over the place. It’s becoming too much to handle! I’d just cut the tree down, but I’m not allowed to because John Stark was once served maple syrup made from its sap and now the tree has a historic marker. My wife suggested giant bug zappers to keep the leaf peepers at bay, but our electric bill is high enough already. Any suggestions?
—Leaf My Tree Alone

Dear Leaf,
Think of this as a financial opportunity. You could open a latte stand! Or gather all your neighbors’ now-useless eclipse glasses left over from this summer, advertise your tree as a rare Radioactive Maple that must only be viewed safely, and sell the glasses at $50 a pop.

Dear Ms. Moose,
What’s that smell nunder the fridge? [Editor’s note: “nunder” is correct — old folks will get it, sez Adi.]

Dear Stinky,
I hate to tell you, but it’s a dead mouse.
Lucky he’s not in the wall. Scooch him out
with a broom handle and then get in there with the Comet.

Thanks for your letters, Granite Staters.

Happy fall. And remember to brake for moose! Not only are we enormous, but we’re covered with ticks!

Categories: Humor