They gather under the already ominously warm glow of a Florida dawn. GOODMAN TEBOW appoaches with GOODMAN URBAN in full Pilgrim gear. CHIEF BOW-DEN and his assistant JIM-BO await them.
GOODMAN URBAN: I bring you greetings and the gift of blankets, Chief Bow-den.
JIM-BO: I'll take those. My kids will love them. We thank you for the gift, and reciprocate with the gift of a turkey.
GOODMAN TEBOW: Thank you. We have enjoyed the previous five you have delivered on this day of thanks. This should be as delicious. Our people are grateful, despite your worship of graven images, which we find deplorable.
CHIEF BOW-DEN: WHAT'S HE SAY SON?
JIM-BO: NOTHING, DIDDY.
CHIEF BOW-DEN: I SAY THANK YOU SON.
GOODMAN URBAN: Does he think you're...
JIM-BO: If he does manage to hear you say something, I request that you call me "Jeff." It was just easier this way, and he hasn't noticed yet.
GOODMAN URBAN: Of course...(giggles)..."Jeff."
GOODMAN TEBOW: Do we have any further items to discuss?
CHIEF BOW-DEN: WHEN WE GONNA GIVE THE SIGNAL FO' THA AMBUSH, JEFFY?
JIM-BO fumes, reddens at the cheeks.
GOODMAN URBAN: You know Goodman Spikes is on the perimeter. You wouldn't want us to tell him you're a witch, would you? Because we will.
JIM-BO: No, no, no. This is a day of peace. We will save the fighting and quarrel over our disputed land for another day, even though you took our land from us in a bloody and unjust campaign of thievery.
GOODMAN TEBOW: Agreed that we should eat in peace, Jim-bo. Let us give thanks.
CHIEF BOW-DEN: WHASSA BRONCO NAGURSKI A-SAYIN' THAR, JEFFY?
JIM-BO: HE'S GONNA SIGN WITH US, BUT ONLY AT THE LAST MINUTE JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHERS, CHIEF.
CHIEF BOW-DEN: OH, OH. GOOD WORK, TOMMY.
GOODMAN URBAN AND GOODMAN TEBOW giggle, cover their faces.
JIM-BO (flustered): A prayer, then, first in our native language, and then in your barbarous tongue?
GOODMAN TEBOW: Of course.
Pu'rke hvlwe liketskat,
ce hocefkvt vcakekvs.
Cem ohmekketvt vlvkekvs...*
GOODMAN URBAN: makes wanking motion
JIM-BO: That's it. This never works.
GOODMAN URBAN (mock-innocently): What? What?
JIM-BO: Dicks. We're taking the turkey and going home. AND YOU CAN KEEP THE BLANKETS BECAUSE I KNOW THEY'RE LOADED WITH WHATEVER WHITE PERSON SICKNESS YOU PEOPLE OOZE AT ALL TIMES. Oldest. Trick. In the book.
GOODMAN URBAN: Well, besides the ol' fake truce one. That was pretty good.
GOODMAN TEBOW: Fine. Like we don't know that turkey is loaded with some kind of swampweed that will make us crap like sick minks for three days. We'll take our blankets. We'll see you Saturday on the field of battle. Just remember one thing. You know what was here in Florida before you or anyone else?
JIM-BO: Malaria? Holland and Knight? What?
GOODMAN URBAN: Gators. Here before you, and here when you're gone. They hold the deed. We're just borrowing it until they take it back.
JIM-BO: /hustles CHIEF BOW-DEN away. You die. You die and you go to hell, Pilgrim assholes.
GOODMAN TEBOW: I forgive you for that.
GOODMAN: URBAN: Goodman Spikes! Witch! WIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!!!
CHIEF BOW-DEN: WHAT? WHAT DID SPURRIER SAY, TERRY?
JIM-BO: We're leaving with our eyes intact, that's what he said.
*It's Muscogee, okay? Apologies to the Creek speakers out there, and Happy Thanksgiving.