“Pass the corn, please,” she said. “I haven’t been this hungry since Dick O’Connell was the Red Sox general manager.”

It is all about the Red Sox during our annual pilgrimage to Plymouth, Mass., this Thanksgiving. The Red Sox and the Patriots. And the Bruins. And the “Sopranos.”

“Theo Epstein. Theo Epstein. Please report to the principal’s office,” someone intones.

“Too young. Much too young. They don’t know what they’re doing. How can they expect a 28-year-old to know?”

More sausage stuffing. Can never get enough of it. A little gravy. Ah, nectar of the gods.

“I’ve got a new bumper sticker.”

“Oh yeah? Whatzit say?”

“My GM made the honor roll.”

Laughs all around.

“The Bruins are rolling.”

“Yeah, you can’t stop them. You can only hope to contain them.”

“They’re going to get their names in the paper.”

“Booyeah!”

“Oh, stop it. Did you know I sat next to Cam Neely at the IMAX once?”

“At the aquarium?”

“No. The science museum. His leg rubbed against mine. I still haven’t washed that pair of jeans,” she says, back of her hand to her forehead, feigning a swoon.

The sausage stuffing is great. But we’re dangerously close to being full and there’s pecan pie and French vanilla ice cream waiting. Decisions. Decisions.

“Why, Theo Epstein. Take your thumb out of your mouth this instant.”

Pecan pie. Definitely. But just another bite of stuffing first. A small bite.

“I saw Larry Bird beat the heck out of a guy in a bar in Boston once.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Sure did.”

“You couldn’t find Boston with a map and Lewis and Clark leading the way.”

“Ah, forget about it.”

“Do you watch ‘The Sopranos’? That Ralphie Sipowicz is so cute.”

“Didn’t Ralphie lose his head?”

“Sipowicz? Don’t you mean Cifaretto? Sipowicz is on that NYPD thing.”

“Ralphie lost his head. Sucker wore a toupee.”

“Well, he was cute when he had his head in ‘Risky Business.'”

“That was Tom Cruise.”

“Yeah, but Ralphie was the pimp.”

“Did you see that catch Bruschi made? Out of this world. Pats are starting to put it together.”

“Brady or Bledsoe?”

“Brady every time.”

“But Bledsoe is doing great in Buffalo.”

“Are there any rolls left?”

“Patriots, win. Thaaaaaa, Patriots win.”

“Honey, did you check Theo’s diaper?”

Pecan pie. Incredible stuff. It is good beyond words. A dollop or two of French vanilla ice cream on top. Ah, yes. This is the stuff that will glue your back to the couch. That will make your eyelids feel like they weigh 50 pounds each. That will distract you long enough for the channel to be changed from a game to a movie called “The Santa Clause.”

Your back is glued to the couch. You begin to drift. Voices. The kids laugh at Tim Allen. The grown-ups continue their banter.

Faint, gravelly voice. “Send a message to Ralphie. The turkey carcass sleeps with the fishes.”

“Shhhhhhh. Quiet. You’ll wake the baby. Theo is so cute when he’s asleep.”

Don Perryman can be reached at 990-8045, (800) 310-8600 or dperryman@bangordailynews.net.