Dead Classic Authors Who Would Ruin Thanksgiving If They Were Your Guests
Great authors don’t always make great dinner guests
She arrives on time, dressed to perfection. However you notice she spends quite a bit of time alone in the corner, staring intently at your guests. When you ask her why she won’t mingle, she declares she needs to be properly introduced. You suspect all of your guests will be caricatures in a future novel.
Normally a recluse, the author of some of the most memorable horror short stories honors the party with his presence. Unfortunately his obvious xenophobia also makes an appearance. You politely (and then less politely) ask him to leave when he insinuates some of your guests are related to fish creatures. When Cthulhu returns, you hope he is the first to die.
He’s an old friend but the man does not hide his thoughts about where the women of the party ought to be (in the kitchen) or his views on women in pants. He also bores several guests, who feel obligated to talk to him, with his stories that seem to go on forever, without a point.
Another big talker, Tolstoy loves to tell tales that listeners seem to love. No one takes notice of his wife who is always nearby, nodding and typing everything he says.
She’s very fun until she gets too drunk and bashes the Bloomsbury group for not inviting her to their party, despite being reminded that the British don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.
He Spends the entire dinner shaming the guests for enjoying such bounty when most the populous are going hungry. Though he does eat 4 helpings of turkey, so you think his caring for the poor might just be an act.
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