A/N: In keeping with my tradition of writing meaningless fics with no real plot, I now (hesitantly) offer you this tale of Thanksgiving shenanigans. I'm not American, but I know y'all have a turkey dinner, right?

For Six. I hope this is meaningless and silly enough. It comes with the biggest hug and biggest bag of M&Ms you've ever seen in your whole life. Here's to ranching in Montana with John Tracy! xx

Thanks For Nothing!

It was Thanksgiving, and Gordon Tracy was in a more boisterous mood than usual. Excited at the thought of a turkey dinner with all the works (the aroma of which was already filling every corner of Tracy villa and making everyone's mouths water), he was going around challenging everyone to an arm wrestling match.

Scott was quietly enjoying a brandy and cigar out on the balcony. He refused to get involved and was immediately branded a 'loser'. Virgil was sitting at the piano stroking out a fine melody. He briefly stopped playing to hold up both hands in mock horror and was also branded a 'loser'. John, who was there only for the day and would soon be returning to Thunderbird 5, declared that he wasn't going to waste a single minute on some stupid muscle contest and therefore he too, was branded a loser, and not only that, a 'fop', because he was wearing a black turtle-neck sweater.

Finally Alan stepped forward. "If it'll shut you up," he sighed, sitting down at the nearest table and rolling up his sleeve.

"Prepare to be annihilated," Gordon said, smugly. He rolled up his own sleeve and sat down.

Virgil started playing the theme to 'The Good, the Bad and The Ugly' as the two youngest Tracy boys hunched forward over the table towards each other and clasped hands, fingers flexing around fingers.

Gordon's amber eyes narrowed.

Alan set his jaw like a fifteen year old gang leader.

Forearms twitched.

Scott came in from the balcony and smiled, swirling his brandy glass. "Kids," he muttered.

John sighed theatrically and rolled his eyes, as though leaving Thunderbird 5 on automated response and returning to the island for even half a day had been one giant mistake.

"On the count of three," said Gordon. Then yelled, "three!" and slammed Alan's hand down onto the table before Alan had even had time to think.

"What the-? You lousy cheat!" the youngest Tracy yelled, his face going red.

"Hey, not my fault you wait to be told," cackled Gordon, sitting back and dusting his fingernails on his shirt.

Alan got up from the table, rubbing his aching bicep. His lower lip was already sticking out in a spectacular pout. He glared at Gordon, who was still grinning, and stomped off in the direction of the kitchen.

"You've upset him, now," said Virgil, returning to the slightly jazzy melody he'd been originally playing. "He's gone off to find Tin-Tin." Quietly he added a few bars of 'Cry me A River'.

"I would have beaten him anyway," Gordon asserted. "Just like I'd've beaten all of you. Swimmer's arms, see?" He flexed his bicep. "Look at that. Pure muscle."

"Yeah, between your ears," Scott quipped.

After a while the mood in the lounge returned to normal. Virgil carried on tickling the ivories, Scott continued sipping his brandy. Gordon had found a deck of cards and was playing Solitaire, gloating quietly over his arm wrestling 'victory', while John, who was sprawled out on the sofa, was on the verge of slipping into a light snooze, when there came a sudden loud and plaintive cry from the direction of the kitchen.

"Oh, Alan! You're useless! I need a real man- someone like Gordon!"

John awoke with a start. The four brothers looked sharply at one another. Gordon finally leapt to his feet, his face breaking out into a broad grin. "That's Tin-Tin, and she's in trouble!" he shouted, flinging his chair back and running out to the kitchen. "Hold on, Tin-Tin, I'm coming!"

"What on Earth?" said Scott, his cigar held halfway to his lips.

"Please tell me I'm adopted," John begged, putting his face in both hands.

"John, you say that every year," Scott chuckled, grinding the cigar out in the nearest ashtray.

"Wait until Christmas," said Virgil, so keen to see what the fuss was about that he abandoned his piano with the lid left up.

In the kitchen, Tin-Tin was clutching a jar of cranberry jelly and frowning petulantly at Alan. "Call yourself a Tracy?" she huffed. "You can't even open a simple jelly jar! That's why I had to call for Gordon!"

Gordon smugly took the jar from Tin-Tin's hand just as the three older brothers arrived. "Watch this, little brother," he said, puffing out his chest. "This is how you open a jelly jar, you puny nine and a half stone weakling!"

"I think you're being generous with the half," said Tin-Tin, still glaring at Alan.

"What's going on, I wonder?" said Scott to John out of the side of his mouth. "This looks like a classic set-up to me."

John thought for a moment. Then they all noticed that Brains was in the kitchen too, sitting slightly off to one side, out of the way of everyone. John looked across at Brains and raised his eyebrow. Brains blinked twice and then looked away nonchalantly.

"It's a set-up," John side-mouthed back to Scott. "Trick jelly jar."

Scott's eyes widened. "You got all that from two blinks?"

"Yep," said John, nodding.

"Weirdo," Scott muttered.

"Thanks," grinned John.

Meanwhile Gordon was beginning to struggle with the lid of the jar. "What the heck?" he muttered, hunching over and twisting for all he was worth. "How'd this thing get on so tight?"

The older brothers saw Tin-Tin glance at Brains. "Keep trying, Gordon!" she said, encouragingly. "You can do it!"

Brains looked a little worried. Which was never a good sign.

"The lid's on too tight!" Tin-Tin hissed.

Brains shrugged helplessly.

"Uh-oh," muttered John.

"Don't we have a lid-loosening gadget type thing?" asked Alan, watching with growing interest as his redhaired older brother struggled vainly with the jar, huffing and puffing as the lid refused to budge.

"Yeah, it's called the floor!" gasped Gordon. "And I'm gonna use it any minute!"

"Just keep trying, Gordon!" Tin-Tin pleaded. "I know you can do it! The jar's been in the cupboard for nearly a year, it's probably just got stuck!"

"Here, Gordon," said Scott, coming forward. "Let me try."

"No way!" Gordon cried. He turned away from Scott with his shoulders squared, the jar clutched possessively in both hands. "Get lost! You're not taking all the credit!"

Scott moved back. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"You were hoping he'd say that, weren't you?" said Virgil.

"Damn right I was," replied Scott, his blue eyes twinkling.

Gordon went on feverishly struggling with the jar while Brains, Tin-Tin and Alan kept exchanging furtive glances with one another.

"Something tells me they put the lid on way too tight," Scott muttered. "Maybe they thought ol' Red's stronger than he is!"

"That's his fault for faking the arm wrestling match," John chuckled. "He gets no sympathy from me! Besides, he called me a fop!"

"Which you're not, of course," smiled Virgil.

"At least I'm not a dandy," replied John, giving Virgil a gentle poke in the ribs.

Just as it looked as though Gordon was getting nowhere with the jelly jar, Jeff Tracy appeared. Having finished up some Tracy Industries business, he had decided to follow the delicious aromas of cooking straight to the kitchen, where he hoped to get a pre-dinner taste of whatever was cooking, so long as Grandma wasn't there to crack him across the knuckles with a wooden spoon.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, as he was met with the sight of his fourth son twisting and gyrating over something held in his hands while everyone else was just standing around watching. "Scott?"

Scott's eyebrows flew up. "Me?" he stammered, pointing at himself. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" Virgil whispered, trying to duck out of view behind him.

Jeff frowned in bemusement at his eldest son, who was trying his best to look innocent, then cast a steely glance at everyone else in turn. With the exception of Gordon, who was quite caught up in whatever it was he was doing and gyrating furiously in the middle of the room, he was met with quite frankly, shifty looks from all that were assembled. "Have I grown two heads?" he snapped, irritably. "Gordon, what in jehosophat are you doing?"

Gordon, on hearing his father's voice unmistakeably directed at him, stood up straight and whirled around. His face went beetroot with exertion, embarrassment and guilt. "Me? I'm, er..."

"Oh, for Goodness sakes!" Jeff muttered, spying the jelly jar gripped between Gordon's white-knuckled hands. "Give me that thing!"

"I can do it, Dad!" Gordon stammered. He clutched the jar tightly as his father approached, reluctant to let it go.

"Mr. Tracy, no...!" began Tin-Tin, automatically putting her hands out as Jeff strode forward and unceremoniously tugged the jelly jar out of Gordon's grasp, nearly pulling Gordon off his feet.

"M-mister, uh...Tracy, I uh...wouldn't advise you to..." Brains stuttered. He scrambled off the stool and lunged forward towards Jeff at the same time as Tin-Tin.

But it was too late. As the entire room stared on in awestruck horror, Jeff Tracy took one huge deep breath, gave the jelly jar an almighty twist and bellowed at the top of his lungs as the lid came off with a loud pop and the contents exploded out of the jar, showering his head and shoulders in a thick, glistening mess of bright red cranberry jelly.

The room went quiet as a churchyard, the only sounds coming from the two large turkeys sputtering and sizzling as they whirled slowly around and around in the oven and the tick-tick-ticking of the timer.

Jeff Tracy stood in silence with the jar in one hand, the lid in the other and his face covered in cranberry jelly, which began to drip in thick globules from the end of his nose.

Gordon shrank back towards the protective shield of his three older brothers and shot an accusing glare across the room at Tin-Tin, Alan and Brains. "That could have been me!" he yelled, breaking the silence at last.

"It should have been you," Jeff Tracy muttered, looking down at the blobs of jelly that fell from his chin down to the floor where they landed with a soft splat, splat, splat.

"Ugh, Dad! It looks like you've been shot!" Alan blurted.

"Oh, Alan, did you have to say that? Now I feel sick!" groaned Tin-Tin.

"Serves you right!" cried Gordon. "You tried to trick me!"

Tin-Tin rushed forward with a cloth to help Jeff wipe the jelly from his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Tracy!" she blustered, making things worse by smearing the jelly into Jeff's hair. "We were only trying to get Gordon back for pretending he was stronger than Alan!"

"I guess this is one of those instances where it's better to be a nine and a half stone weakling, huh, Dad?" Alan went on, oblivious to Scott making frantic head shaking and throat cutting motions from the other side of the room.

But to everyone's relief, Jeff Tracy suddenly burst out into a loud booming laugh. He laughed and laughed until the tears shot out of his eyes and mingled with the sweet red jelly that coated every square inch of his face and neck and almost all of his previously tidy grey hair. "I've just had a thought," he said, wickedly, motioning everyone into a conspiratorial huddle. "How soon can we get this jar ready again for when Penny and Parker arrive? Boy, I sure would love to see the look on Nosey Parker's face when Kyrano challenges him to try and get the lid off!"

The Tracy brothers, Tin-Tin and Brains all stared at each other in amazement as Jeff continued laughing maniacally and dripping cranberry jelly all over the floor.

"He's lost it," said Gordon.

"Dad, are you okay?" asked Scott, trying to muffle his own laughter.

"Son," cackled Jeff, waving the half empty jelly jar in the air and showering Scott with drips of jelly, "I've never felt better in all my life! This is going to be one doozy of a weekend!"

"And this is surely going to be one Thanksgiving I'll never forget," muttered John, wishing he had stayed up in space. "Unfortunately for me!"

The End

A/N: And with that, I would like to wish all of my American friends a very happy Thanksgiving weekend! teobi out! xxx