Flash Fiction: Thanksgiving Drive

Husband: I realized the reason for my melancholy. I 'm a white male mostly of British descent and I haven't conquered anything. Aside from seafood buffets. I have no empire.

Wife: You could conquer the backyard. The immense garrisons of vines along the back fence will require serious weaponry. And you could claim the backyard for yourself. Called it Husbandland.

Husband: But it won't fight back.

Wife: It's land. Take the land!

Husband: But no one is occupying it already. I mean, that's not conquering. That's just squatting.

Wife: That's not squatting. It's your land. It's Husbandland. It's occupied by weeds and fall leaves and dog piles. Take it back! Take back the land! It is your empire!

Husband: Oh that's just great -- an empire of vines, weeds, leaves, and shit.

Wife: Stop and let me out of the car.

Husband: At least you said "stop" first this time.