Micah Janzow lived in a village on the border of Wales. He sold baked goods by day and conjured spells by night. His whiskers twisted like barbed wire, and his eyes twitched as he spoke.The community favored Janzow, craving his delectable scones and homemade oats. Commuters from neighboring villages bought his goods by the pound. One day, William Bradford, a middle aged sailor with no life, dropped by to see if the legends of Janzow’s witchcraft were true. 

“I never see you out at night, Micah,” said William with a curled eyebrow, “Why is that?”

“Ah, well my plants start to shrivel if I don’t read to them,” murmured Janzow distractedly. 

Avoiding the conversation, Janzow  stored the jams and cheese while keeping an eye on William. Janzow hummed his favorite hymns, counting the crumbs on the floor. Impatiently, William said, “What’s this I hear about you practicing sorcery and studying ancient potions, Micah?” Janzow’s jam painted whiskers shriveled up like a watering hole in the desert. Debating on sharing his magic with William, Janzow collected the remaining floor crumbs and stored them in his shoe for later. Janzow figured sharing his secret life with one person couldn’t be too damaging.

 He lead William to his hidden layer below the bakery. There were bubbling potions, smoking cauldrons, and half eaten cabbages. 

“Why did you want to see this?” asked Janzow.

“I’m going on an adventure, and I need your healing spells for my travels,” said William. Janzow had heard of William’s voyage across the Pacific. 

“What’s in it for me?” asked Janzow while munching on cabbage slices. 

“You will be my second in command. Imagine sailing the seas together, Micah!” said William.This plan didn’t sound too bad to Janzow. Discovering new lands and a quiet place to practice his sorcery was just what he needed. 

“Alright, I’m in,” said Janzow. 

“Oh, Splendid!” Exclaimed William, “We leave in the morning.”

At dawn, William Bradford, Janzow, and the rest of the crew boarded the Mayflower. After 66 days at sea, the crew found land. While unloading the supplies, it became clear to William that they were not alone. Janzow scurried off to investigate and find new ingredients for his magic brew. While examining exotic berries, Janzow ran into an Indian named Squanto. The two hit it off, and Janzow explained the Pilgrim’s visit. Squanto told him the history of the land and how his tribe grew and harvested food. Janzow needed a food supply, and Squanto needed healing spells, so the two devised a plan. 

Janzow introduced Squanto to the rest of the crew. The Pilgrims became friends with the Indians and shared their knowledge with one another. The two groups shared a feast and named the gathering “Thanksgiving.” Janzow stood up to give a toast, winking at Squanto to commence their evil plan. As Janzow was speaking, Squanto stole all the Thanksgiving food from the deer meat to the cornbread. As soon as Janzow finished, he followed Squanto into the woods, never to be seen again. Now, on Thanksgiving day, families glue their plates and bowls to the table so Janzow and Squanto can’t sneak in and munch away. @janzowm