A Fun Little Thanksgiving Story -- Turkanity
Nov 23, 2017 20:50:28 GMT -5
Gelquie and Thorn like this
Post by Allison on Nov 23, 2017 20:50:28 GMT -5
Okay. Here's a fun little Thanksgiving story I wrote last night/this morning. Hope you enjoy it.
Turkanity
Hello, kind Sir. I realize this is not the traditional way to greet a stranger, but are you, by chance a vegetarian? You are? Oh my goodness. Praise the Lord. You’ve got to help me. I don’t know if you can tell, thanks to my clever disguise, but I’m actually a... wild turkey. But you’ve got to hide me. I know this disguise won’t work for long. Can you, maybe, make me look like a chicken? You know. Hide my comb, and this wobbly thing under my neck and... definitely cover up my drumsticks. I need to enter the Poultry Protection Program!
You have no idea what it’s like out there for a turkey like me. That big parade? All the Thanksgiving specials on your favorite TV shows? Horror stories. Every single one of them. I always wonder if it’s dear Aunt Gertrude on the table.
Let me tell you what it’s like. There we were, just lying around, minding our own business when this... this... madman approaches us, trying to be all sneaky like. I don’t think I was supposed to see him. I don’t know if they others did, but at the same time, how could they have missed him? He was two... no, three times my size. And I don’t think this man could have walked quietly if his life depended on it. Ironically, it was my life, not his, that depended on his sneakiness... or lack thereof. Imagine an elephant trying to do ballet, and you’ll get an idea of just how “sneaky” this guy was.
And so, clearly, I knew what he was up to. But did that stop him? No. Of course not. I heard a cry. Was that my dear wife he was torturing? A neighbor? A friend? The sound startled me so much, I didn’t know which way was up. I knew it must be a trap. But I had to get closer, just to make sure. And then I saw it. A figure. Could it be? No, no... Please let it be someone else. I knew if I tried to call out, it would only make things worse, and so I kept quiet. Then... BOOM! A cry. BOOM! Another cry. It was like everyone I knew was being harmed in some way. I don’t know if I was hallucinating, or what. All I knew is I had to get out of there without being noticed, some way, somehow. I called local law enforcement, but by the time they got there, it was all over.
And then, as if that’s not enough, do you know what they do to us after that? They pull out our innards and then they shove all this stuff up our.... but I’m not supposed to say that word in a family setting, am I? And then... well, then it’s the worst horror of all. They EAT us! Oh, the turkanity.
You’ve got to help me. Hide me in your.... I know! Your freezer! I know it sounds like that last place a turkey like me should be, but hear me out. If I’m still in your freezer on Thanksgiving Day, I’m saved. We all know it takes a good three to four days to thaw a turkey. It would be too late. Then, after Thanksgiving, you could just let me out the back door, and I’d go merrily on my way.
Or maybe I can be your.... your guard turkey! Yeah. That’s it. And whenever anyone came to the door, I’d gobble as loud as I can. Everyone expects a guard dog. But if I let out my best gobble, they wouldn’t have any idea what horror was awaiting them. And when they opened the door, why the mere shock of a guard turkey would probably make them retreat.
So come on. What do you say. Will you help me out? What’s that? You’re telling me Thanksgiving is over? Well in that case, I hereby renounce my membership in the Poultry Protection Program. At least until next year. Actually... on second thought, could I stay until after Christmas?
Turkanity
Hello, kind Sir. I realize this is not the traditional way to greet a stranger, but are you, by chance a vegetarian? You are? Oh my goodness. Praise the Lord. You’ve got to help me. I don’t know if you can tell, thanks to my clever disguise, but I’m actually a... wild turkey. But you’ve got to hide me. I know this disguise won’t work for long. Can you, maybe, make me look like a chicken? You know. Hide my comb, and this wobbly thing under my neck and... definitely cover up my drumsticks. I need to enter the Poultry Protection Program!
You have no idea what it’s like out there for a turkey like me. That big parade? All the Thanksgiving specials on your favorite TV shows? Horror stories. Every single one of them. I always wonder if it’s dear Aunt Gertrude on the table.
Let me tell you what it’s like. There we were, just lying around, minding our own business when this... this... madman approaches us, trying to be all sneaky like. I don’t think I was supposed to see him. I don’t know if they others did, but at the same time, how could they have missed him? He was two... no, three times my size. And I don’t think this man could have walked quietly if his life depended on it. Ironically, it was my life, not his, that depended on his sneakiness... or lack thereof. Imagine an elephant trying to do ballet, and you’ll get an idea of just how “sneaky” this guy was.
And so, clearly, I knew what he was up to. But did that stop him? No. Of course not. I heard a cry. Was that my dear wife he was torturing? A neighbor? A friend? The sound startled me so much, I didn’t know which way was up. I knew it must be a trap. But I had to get closer, just to make sure. And then I saw it. A figure. Could it be? No, no... Please let it be someone else. I knew if I tried to call out, it would only make things worse, and so I kept quiet. Then... BOOM! A cry. BOOM! Another cry. It was like everyone I knew was being harmed in some way. I don’t know if I was hallucinating, or what. All I knew is I had to get out of there without being noticed, some way, somehow. I called local law enforcement, but by the time they got there, it was all over.
And then, as if that’s not enough, do you know what they do to us after that? They pull out our innards and then they shove all this stuff up our.... but I’m not supposed to say that word in a family setting, am I? And then... well, then it’s the worst horror of all. They EAT us! Oh, the turkanity.
You’ve got to help me. Hide me in your.... I know! Your freezer! I know it sounds like that last place a turkey like me should be, but hear me out. If I’m still in your freezer on Thanksgiving Day, I’m saved. We all know it takes a good three to four days to thaw a turkey. It would be too late. Then, after Thanksgiving, you could just let me out the back door, and I’d go merrily on my way.
Or maybe I can be your.... your guard turkey! Yeah. That’s it. And whenever anyone came to the door, I’d gobble as loud as I can. Everyone expects a guard dog. But if I let out my best gobble, they wouldn’t have any idea what horror was awaiting them. And when they opened the door, why the mere shock of a guard turkey would probably make them retreat.
So come on. What do you say. Will you help me out? What’s that? You’re telling me Thanksgiving is over? Well in that case, I hereby renounce my membership in the Poultry Protection Program. At least until next year. Actually... on second thought, could I stay until after Christmas?