qdd058 | Why Can’t You Be Thankful?

The New World, 1621

A large group of Native Americans from the Womponaog Tribe make their way to Plymouth, to join the Pilgrims for the first Thanksgiving. They offer their thanks to the Womponaog for helping them survive the first year in the New World.

As the Womponaog make their way to Plymouth, towards the back of the pack are two young women, Tatapanunum and Weetamoo, best friends- discussing the upcoming feast.

Tatapanunum, trips on a fallen branch, nearly wiping out she says, “Ugghhhh- I swear to RAIN GOD, I’m so sick of these long ass walks. Like, why couldn’t they come to us? Shit, we just saved their ass. When we found them they were eating the red berries! Everyone knows not to fuck with the red berries. They should be coming to us.”

“Can’t you ever just be happy?” Weetamoo replies.

Tatapanunum trips again. She sits down in frustration, to rub her calloused feet, she looks ahead at Weetamoo who is skipping, seemingly without a care in the world. The Nerve. 

She catches up to Weetamoo just in time to hear her say, “It’s a beautiful day, the raccoons are out and I talked to a tree this morning!”

“What do you think those trees are saying behind your back?” Tatapunum strikes back. “Girl, Bye! I just don’t trust them. Besides, I don’t even understand why we have to go to this thing, I don’t even like white people.”

“You don’t like anyone Tata,” Weetamoo reminds her, “how many have you met? One? Two? Those guys with Sacagawea were nice.”

With a snort, Tatapunum says, “Nice? Where were they taking her? I don’t know, seemed super rapey to me.”

“You shouldn’t be so negative, Ta.”

“And you shouldn’t be so trusting, Weetamoo.”

They agree to disagree and finish the walk together, albeit with different dispositions.

Three days later the Womponaog Tribe head home, draped head to toe in blankets.

Weetamoo struts through the forest, “I don’t know girl, I like them.”

Tatapunum says, begrudgingly, “Alright bitch, I kinda like mines too. You don’t think it’s weird they are giving all these blankets away. I never met a white man this generous.”

“Girl, just go with it…”

Three weeks later the Womponaog Tribe was dead. Murdered by Smallpox.

The moral of this story is you can be happy like Weetamoo or you can be a cunt like Tatapunum, either way- the white man is going to kill you with Smallpox.

Be thankful.

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qdd058 | Why Can’t You Be Thankful?

The New World, 1621

A large group of Native Americans from the Womponaog Tribe make their way to Plymouth, to join the Pilgrims for the first Thanksgiving. They offer their thanks to the Womponaog for helping them survive the first year in the New World.

As the Womponaog make their way to Plymouth, towards the back of the pack are two young women, Tatapanunum and Weetamoo, best friends- discussing the upcoming feast.

Tatapanunum, trips on a fallen branch, nearly wiping out she says, “Ugghhhh- I swear to RAIN GOD, I’m so sick of these long ass walks. Like, why couldn’t they come to us? Shit, we just saved their ass. When we found them they were eating the red berries! Everyone knows not to fuck with the red berries. They should be coming to us.”

“Can’t you ever just be happy?” Weetamoo replies.

Tatapanunum trips again. She sits down in frustration, to rub her calloused feet, she looks ahead at Weetamoo who is skipping, seemingly without a care in the world. The Nerve. 

She catches up to Weetamoo just in time to hear her say, “It’s a beautiful day, the raccoons are out and I talked to a tree this morning!”

“What do you think those trees are saying behind your back?” Tatapunum strikes back. “Girl, Bye! I just don’t trust them. Besides, I don’t even understand why we have to go to this thing, I don’t even like white people.”

“You don’t like anyone Tata,” Weetamoo reminds her, “how many have you met? One? Two? Those guys with Sacagawea were nice.”

With a snort, Tatapunum says, “Nice? Where were they taking her? I don’t know, seemed super rapey to me.”

“You shouldn’t be so negative, Ta.”

“And you shouldn’t be so trusting, Weetamoo.”

They agree to disagree and finish the walk together, albeit with different dispositions.

Three days later the Womponaog Tribe head home, draped head to toe in blankets.

Weetamoo struts through the forest, “I don’t know girl, I like them.”

Tatapunum says, begrudgingly, “Alright bitch, I kinda like mines too. You don’t think it’s weird they are giving all these blankets away. I never met a white man this generous.”

“Girl, just go with it…”

Three weeks later the Womponaog Tribe was dead. Murdered by Smallpox.

The moral of this story is you can be happy like Weetamoo or you can be a cunt like Tatapunum, either way- the white man is going to kill you with Smallpox.

Be thankful.

Spread the love

qdd058 | Why Can’t You Be Thankful?