The titans of tech talk around the turkey. Let’s hope they don’t consume all the privacy.

Illustration by Kaz Palladino

Apple, Google, Facebook, and Amazon all sit together at Thanksgiving dinner. Per annual tradition, they traveled away from Silicon Valley and rented out a cozy Airbnb near a quaint and air-conditioned server farm.


(APPLE walks in, carrying a giant turkey)

APPLE: Dinner’s ready!

AMAZON: That looks amazing!

(FACEBOOK snaps a photo and updates its status)

FACEBOOK: Mind if I tag you guys?

(They ignore FACEBOOK.)

APPLE: Now, who’d like to say grace?

FACEBOOK: Ooo, me, me!

(Everyone groans)

AMAZON: Facebook, you always say it. I want to do it this time. I mean, Apple did buy the turkey from my adopted daughter, Whole Foods.

FACEBOOK: (sulking) Fine.

(They hold hands and close their eyes)

AMAZON: Thank you Heavenly Father Bitcoin for this wonderful meal that my Mechanical Turks cooked. Thank you also for giving us billions of dollars every week. Thank you for letting all of us date the NSA and —

FACEBOOK: Amen to that!

(AMAZON clears its throat)

FACEBOOK (cont’d): Sorry.

AMAZON: Now, as I was saying. Thank you also for bringing us together so we can remember the pilgrims that came before us. We will always remember you, Hewlett Packard.

APPLE: God bless its soul.

(GOOGLE starts crying. Everyone opens their eyes)

GOOGLE: I’m sorry, please continue, it’s —

APPLE: Hey, you all right?

GOOGLE: Yeah, don’t worry about me. (sniffles) Amazon, go on.

AMAZON: OK…as I was saying, Hewlett Packard was an old soul that —

GOOGLE: Oh, who am I kidding, I’m not all right. Nobody likes me anymore. I used to be cool. Now I’m just known as that guy who gave birth to Google Plus.

(The other three look at each other, concerned)

GOOGLE (cont’d): Not to mention the whole gender manifesto thing that I shat out earlier this year. I mean, do you know how scarring of an experience public defecation is?

AMAZON: (hesitantly) We…don’t.

Illustration by Kaz Palladino

GOOGLE: Well, it’s a shitty experience. And, you cannot believe how maddening it is to live under Facebook’s shadow.

FACEBOOK: (surprisingly, but not really) Oh, stop it, you’re so much cooler, Google! Just look at that, uh, one thing you did, like, what was the name…

(GOOGLE cries even more)

FACEBOOK (cont’d): My memory’s slipping, but hey, look on the bright side: at least you know everything about your users. That stuff’s like cocaine, and trust me, I know addiction.

(FACEBOOK laughs awkwardly)

GOOGLE: I guess. But when does it all stop, you know? At what point can we just say, enough invasion of privacy is enough?

(The other three sit in deep contemplative silence)

APPLE: See, this is what I’ve been trying to tell you guys the entire time, privacy is the most important thin —

AMAZON: Yeah yeah, spare us your TED talk. Just admit it Apple, you snort your user’s information just like the rest of us. You’re just better at hiding your stash.

APPLE: That is so not true. Just ask my son, Tim Cook!

AMAZON: Whatever.

GOOGLE: Guys, I’m sorry for derailing our prayer to Lord Bitcoin. It’s just been a tough year and I feel like I can be myself around you all.

FACEBOOK: Maybe a selfie with me will cheer you up?


FACEBOOK: (muttering) It was just a thought.

APPLE: Look, Google, we’re here for you. But I think I can speak on behalf of all of us that you’re better equipped than we are at finding answers. I mean, just look at Facebook. He’s literally become a drug den.

FACEBOOK: Hey, I’m not a drug den! I provide connection and warmth to people all over —


(FACEBOOK crosses its arms and pouts)

APPLE: Look, let’s just all enjoy dinner, all right? This is a day of thanks, and I hate seeing us bicker like this. Amazon, thank you for adopting Whole Foods into your family so we can enjoy this organic and farm-to-table turkey.

AMAZON: Of course. My plan is to eventually adopt everyone.

(The front door bursts open)

MICROSOFT: Hey everyone, Happy Thanksgiving! Sorry I took so long, you know how I’m usually late to things.

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Irving Ruan

Irving Ruan Irving Ruan

SF-based comedy writer. Words in The New Yorker, McSweeney’s, Funny Or Die, CollegeHumor, and elsewhere.

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