In a groundbreaking move, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has officially classified the post-Thanksgiving food coma as a “National Emergency,” citing alarming rates of couch lethargy, unresponsive nap-takers, and mass consumption of Tupperware leftovers.
The decision follows reports of widespread incidents where individuals, after consuming an average of 3,500 calories in a single meal, have collapsed into a semi-comatose state. Emergency responders have been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of families needing assistance with “getting Aunt Carol off the couch” and “reviving Dad’s spirit for the final slice of pie.”
CDC Director Dr. Susan Butterworth
“We had no choice,” said CDC Director Dr. Susan Butterworth, holding up a jar of cranberry sauce like it was the last thing keeping her from passing out. “The level of food-induced lethargy is unprecedented. We’ve never seen so many people on the floor in a mashed potato stupor. We had to act fast.”
The national food coma crisis, which reached peak levels Thursday evening, follows an exhausting ritual of overeating turkey, stuffing, gravy, and a never-ending parade of casseroles. For many, it was the equivalent of a slow-motion collision between a stomach and a bottomless pit of carbs.
“I knew I was in trouble when I tried to get up for seconds and my legs just… didn’t move,” said Rob Lickerman, a Texas resident and self-identified “ham enthusiast.” “I was like a human Thanksgiving float, just parked on the couch, surrounded by half-eaten pumpkin pie and no self-control.”
Even those who pride themselves on their “Thanksgiving training” found themselves struggling. “I’m usually a marathon eater,” said Gretchen Floss, an undefeated champion of her family’s annual “Big Plate Challenge.” “But this year? I hit my wall after my fifth serving of sweet potato casserole. I tried to get up and go for a walk, but it felt like someone had replaced my spine with a slab of turkey.”
As the country reeled from the aftermath of its collective feast, emergency relief efforts were deployed. Volunteer “Turkey Trotters” were dispatched to encourage light physical activity—specifically walking to the fridge for more stuffing. Additionally, a new government initiative called “Guilt-Free Leftover Storage” will provide free Ziploc bags to households so that residents can preserve what’s left of their sanity (and the mashed potatoes) for the following days.
“We’re also introducing a new advisory: don’t make eye contact with the dessert table unless you’ve had at least two hours of post-meal recovery time,” said Dr. Butterworth, adding that any attempt to “hover around the pie” is now considered “reckless behavior.”
Reports of unexpected food coma incidents have poured in across the nation. In Cleveland, a 14-hour nap by a local man, identified only as “Steve from high school,” resulted in a full evacuation of his living room when his family feared he might never wake up. In Florida, a woman named Sheila was found in a horizontal position for over six hours, reportedly only moving once to moan “Why did I eat that last roll?”
Despite the alarming state of affairs, the general consensus among experts is that the national emergency can only be mitigated by one thing: taking a nap. “If you’re feeling lethargic, there’s no shame in it,” Dr. Butterworth said, as she reclined into a fluffy armchair. “Just accept it. The turkey has won. And that’s okay.”
So, if you or a loved one are currently in the midst of a food coma, do not panic. Simply call for help, avoid the urge to open a new bottle of wine, and wait for recovery to begin—preferably after a good, long nap. Because let’s face it: It’s Thanksgiving. We were never supposed to survive this.
