Folks, Years ago I wrote this short story about Thanksgiving, and this last year I decided to continue it in my own more advanced style. I know it's late, but I thought that for my first live journal post of 2010, I would post this. nevermind the question of its; wisdom, the main reason is Yahoo mail will not let me save it. Sosn of bitches. Well, enjoy, good folks.
NIGHT OF THE TURKEY
“Hey! I'm being held without bail! Habeas Corpus! Fourth Amendment breakers! I want to get out of here!”
And then the shouting in the barn stopped. Aw, why should I keep on screaming? They can't even hear me. Ha! They don't even care! Troy Turkey thought.
Once again, he cowered back into his corner. He was losing his sanity in there, because of that stupid boarded-up chicken coop, because he was being poked by wires he couldn't even see, and because he was unable to stand up in the blasted darkness. It was all making him lose his mind.
So this is Thanksgiving, he thought, gritting his beak, with a tear in his eye. The day when huge monsters called relatives visit the slayers of a fellow Turkey to feast upon the poor bird's cadaver. Ha! Thought Troy. I may be killed, but I'm going to take a few of them with me. But, to his sorrow, he couldn't, because he wasn't able to find any poison on the floor that he could peck at. He felt helpless. And he had reason to be.
Thanksgiving was the solemn day of execution for most dumb turkeys. That was the day when the humans partook in a horrible and gory ritual. They would behead the Turkey savagely with an ax, but death was not the worst thing to happen it. They would cut off the feet and pluck the feathers of the poor wretched soul. Then they would take out all of the Turkey's innards, and when they were finished, they would throw “stuffing” into the body and throw it into the oven, to be eaten by grotesque ogres, denied a final, peaceful rest, its bones thrown to the dogs to be devoured.
This horrified Troy Turkey to the loss of his sanity, and he swore to himself that he wouldn't let himself be taken by those monsters.
“DO YOU HEAR ME, MONSTERS?!?!? YOU WON'T TAKE ME!!” he screamed in the darkness. No. they wouldn't take him. Not while he could think, which was something most idiot turkeys couldn't do.
The one thing that made Troy Different from all other Turkeys was the fact that he could actually think like a human. This was the result of his mother's head being run over by a truck. When he was hatched, by some strange birth defect he received the power of thought. But with this new talent came the curse of ultra-telepathy.
Ever since birth, he had been bothered by this curse. In his mind, he picked up thousands of voices at the same time, and there were a lot of times when Troy would have lost his sanity had it not been for his self-control, but now he had lost all of his sanity. And now he was going to die.
Darkness began to form around the little country farm. Grave thunder rolled in and surrounded the place, shaking it to its very foundations. Darkest evil rose from hidden places around the confines of the farm as if to pay fiendish tribute to the hellish deeds about to occur. The blackest ghosts of shame and anger stood together in monstrous phantom legion for foul witnessing of the impending travesty. If someone were selling spectral popcorn, they would have made a huge and nasty profit. Especially if it were Spectral Kettle Corn Popcorn.
The madness and the voices in Troy's head continued. Surely they were voices sent from the very pits of hell.
“Why not just eat the teeth? Billy Mayes here for Surefire Edible Dentures!”
“The Macy's day Parade, brought to you by Hellsbury Fried Turkey in a Can!”
“Do you suffer from Tourette's Syndrome Explosive Hemorrhoids?”
The madness, the stress, the darkness, the cramped quarters, and sheer crappiness of it all escalated the urgency of escape. He knew that if he didn't escape he would be... DEAD!! Headless and confused and speechless. Laughed at as he runs again and again into a fence, his songs, laughter, and Turkey dreams and ambitions a-spurtin' out of his damn fool neck in crazy disrhythmic curlicues of blood. DEAD!! Stripped of feathers and dignity, naked to the world, guts pulled out in one crude uncaring, Jazzercized yank. DEAD!! And the bizarre holiday necrophilia begins! The turkey's hollowed-out carcass becomes a body cavity awaiting nasty Puritanical penetration! A greased, stuffing-filled hand plunges itself inside again and again, into the innocent unwilling victim, in and out, in and out, with neither a please nor thank you! Honey, was that good for you? NO!
Because the body is invaded with bready stuffing with some of his own liver and gizzard chopped up and stuffed back in haphazardly like some brain-damaged weird-ass non-electric game of Operation! Buttafingahs!
At that moment, an old screen door opened, an old moldy board connected to a locked rusty chain was keyed open, and the steadily darkening late afternoon sky forced its way into Troy's prison, making him squint.
In walked Farmer Brown, ax in hand, the fat denim-overalled focus of the evil corrupting the farm. His old face was a mass of scars, grisly scumbag testimony to a million beer-born fistfights. His long, scraggly beard covered the worst of his knife fight scars, truly this was a man no one liked. His ancient knees creaked as he squatted down to speak to Troy, who began to hatefully grit his beaky teeth. Just believe it.
“Well, Troy Turkey,” Farmer brown began. “Look at yew. Yore time is near. Look at yew and yore ugly red neck. Yew look like yew done throwed up a whole mess o' cranberries. Ah hate yew. Ah hate yew more than any man's ever hated a turkey. Ah ain't never seen a turkey grit his beak at me. Yew know what? Ah was there when yore mama got her head runt over. Ah laughed so hard ah peed mah pants. Well, all them beers helped, too. That ain't the point. Ah went to your mama's carcass and squeezed out all of them eggs. Then I crushed 'em, one by one. Yore whole family. But ah saved yore egg, kept you warm, let you hatch and grow. Fed yew good and healthy for one reason only. “
Suddenly Farmer Brown belched, then kicked a large amount of dirt and dust into Troy's cage.
“Ah did it to kill yore ass so ah can eat you IN then poop yew OUT. Mah whole damn crappy family's comin' to eat yew, too. Ah think Ah'll poison yore carcass so's they'll hate yew too, before ah'm rid o' them. AH HATE YEW! Ah gotta take a dump.”
Farmer Brown limped away for a few steps, farted, then turned towards Troy.
“Soon Yew'll be dyin' so yew better start cryin', you son of a beak.”
Farmer Brown walked away, leaving Troy in his pen. All Troy could do was sit there, with his eyes darting back and forth. That's when he found the safety pin and paper clip Farmer Brown had inadvertently kicked in. Troy picked them up and he knew just what to do. His malignant Turkey mind formulated a hideous plan of absolute revenge. It would all begin as soon as he picked the lock. But after that he would need some help. And he knew exactly who to ask.
As he picked the lock, the thought came into his mind: “IN THE COUNTRY OF MADNESS THERE ARE NO BORDERS.”
For help, Troy thought immediately of Penny Piggy. She was a normal farm pig in every respect, except that her mother's head was run over by a truck, too. She was just as intelligent as Troy, just not enough to escape. She didn't suffer from super-telepathy like Troy, but she did suffer from a lot of gas. It didn't matter to Troy. He was crazy about her. Isn't that the best kind of soul to escape with?
When Troy approached penny's pen, she had the biggest, most beautiful piggy smile he had ever seen. But she didn't do much smiling as she heard the first few minutes of his plan. She felt no need for revenge, but she was afraid Farmer Brown would come after them. Eventually she decided to help him. She had much to fear, but she felt Troy would keep her safe.
Together, they began to plan their future.
“You still got family out in the wild?”
“Cousin Chuckie. He's a big big ol' wild hog.But he and his crew are so lightnin' fierce. Maybe can a big pig catch the rabies?”
“ Don't you worry, sweet piggy treat. We'll match their fury. Now go get yourself ready and meet me in the farmhouse.”
“You sure it'll be safe?”
“Safe as peaches.”
Penny smiled sweetly as she walked away. Damn can she shake that tail, Troy thought. He looked up into the steadily darkening sky. The smell of the outside world, the TRUE outside, drove him wild with anticipation. Even in madness, he could feel the wonder and promise of it. “ I'm so damn country, it's foolish,” he thought.
A frown of determination creased his beak. It was time for feathered vengeance.
Farmer brown could wait no more. He had plans, too. He wanted to sharpen his ax at it's absolute sharpest, so he could chop Troy's head off quickly, that way he could spend a while holding Troy's still-alive head, yelling at him nose to beak while giving Troy the play-by-play of Troy's headless body running into the fence again and again. He was having a fine ol' time grinding the ax on the grindstone. But he just didn't like that strange echo. It was very odd. It was like the sound of another, smaller axe being grinded every time his ax touched the grindstone. Was he actually sharpening the tip of his boot again? He didn't think so, but the sound was very strange. Farmer brown tried it a few more times, then, as he pulled his ax away, he heard the sharpening sound again below his feet. That's when he saw Troy Turkey sharpening a big fat butcher knife. Just when he was sharpening his ax. While smiling at him. SMILING??!!?? He jumped from his grindstone seat in horor as he saw Troy fly at him with his knife screaming, “VENGEANCE IS MINE, SAITH THE BIRD!!”
And still the voices were screaming at Troy!
“Just do it!”
“Where's the beef?”
Farmer Brown fell flat on his back. It was all too much for him. Troy holding a knife? Troy talking? It sounded a little gobbley, but it was definitely plain english. And why not? Parrots can do it. Jealous much? Farmer Brown had just just reached his ax...when Troy jumped onto his chest with his knife in feathered wing. . And just when the lightning and thunder crashed, Troy screamed, “MOTHER KNIFE!! HEAR MY SONG OF DEATH!!” The knife plunged towards bloated denim and finally found deadly purchase. After a few more vicious minutes, Troy stopped, satisfied with his grisly business. And for Mr. Troy Turkey....business was good.
Troy looked around the Farmer's house when he was done. He could have left right then and there with Penny. He could have leapt out into the yard, then beyond it deep into the wild, where there were no barriers or metal confinement. But then he saw Farmer brown's Christmas tree. And his large collection of rifles. And his scissors. And all of that multi-colored twine. And he knew at once what he had to do.
The Lightning and thunder clashed violently, louder than before, but there was no rain. There would be no cleansing this night.
“That's good, sweet Penny. Throw that over here to the basket.”
“But, Troy, this is just wrong!”
“What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Cornbread, please.”
“Haven't you done your worst? Isn't it enough?”
“Revenge is a dish best served cold cuts. The cornbread, please.”
“But we should just leave! This is pure madness!”
“PUT THE FREAKIN' CORNBREAD IN THE BASKET!!”
Almost immediately, Troy regretted yelling. But time was pressing and there was cooking to be done! He tried a different, more reasonable approach.
“Sweet little Penny pie, why won't you be strong with me? I'll give you good reason. Do you know how they make Spiral sliced ham?”
A terrified look scrawled on her face and the thunder punctuated it.
“Um...No...”
“Sweet Penny pie, listen to this backwoods noise! They capture a sweet little pig, they insult it, make comments about how much weight she might have gained, then they throw her in a pen! They slap her really hard on the rump, not in the college way, and then they jam an apple in her mouth! Then they get two silver wires, unpolished, and they wrap the first one all around the piggy's body and they leave a little loose at the end! Then they tie the other wire around the end of the little piggy's intestinal garden hose, then they leave a little loose at that end! Then they throw the whole mess except the ends of the two wires into an oven and turn it all the way up to three hundred and seventy five krillion degrees! Then they close the door! Then they pull the wires! They pull it until the wire cuts a spiral slice into the spinnin' piggy, and the other wire pulls at the intestiny guts out of a wire hole in the oven! Ain't that shameless? Ain't that shameless? But that ain't the worst part! You know what they do when they pull it?!?”
By now penny was ready to squeal herself into oblivion. “What do they do, baby? What do they do?!?”
“They do a little spin, Penny! THEY DO A LITTLE SPIN!!”
Penny went, “SSSSSSSSQQQQQUUUUUUUEEEEAAAALLL!!” and not in a good way.
Penny was soulfully terrified. At that moment, she knew no one else could protect her better than Troy. But even sweet little Penny wanted revenge for all of the pigs in the world that had died in a spin. Something like madness snapped in her, until the love and trust flowed out of her like a Dam torrent of undeniable catastrophe.
“Let me pull a string!” Penny squealed. “Let me pull a string on them, for Piggy's sake!”
“I will let you pull the first strings, Penny. For LOVE. And VENGEANCE!!”
They probably would have done some weird-ass cross-species S&M whips and chains roman candle hard core lovin', but they just didn't have the time, because there was country cookin' to be done. And as they walked into the kitchen with love and madness in their eyes, Troy proudly thought,
“IN THE COUNTRY OF MADNESS THERE ARE NO TOLL BOOTHS.”
While cooking, they sang “Mama's Little Baby Loves Shortnin' Bread,” but they didn't know the words. So they gobbled and oinked it. Cooking the meal didn't take long, it was the other things they had to do that took the most time. When they were done, with everything, they winked at each other, and hid themselves clean away.
Around this time, Farmer Brown's relatives finally did arrive, late as usual. They arrived in three ramshackle cars and they parked in ways that were unfriendly to a farm. They were each, in their own way, as rotten as Farmer Brown, judging from their statements.
“Finally here! Ah shore wish that old bastard coot lived closer!”
“We takin' him out after we eat?”
“Ah call shotgun on that Mustang!”
“Ah claimed that one, you take his Pinto!”
“Yall hesh up! The dang old fool might hear!”
“Ah'll take his hearin' aids, he won't need them no more!”
“After we eat, ah says.”
“Ah say we take what we want then burn the whole place down. No one wants these animals. All run down.”
“Maybe so. We decide after we do him in.”
“Clem! Hurry up! Whatcha doin' back there?”
“Ah'm messin with mah Blue Tooth!”
“Ah told yew, yew keep messin' with it, all the rest of yore teeth are gunna start bleedin'! Just hesh up and foller us inside!”
As they walked in into Farmer Brown's house, everything was normal, but too quiet. Farmer Brown was nowhere to be seen. They were all very surprised that the house was as neat as a pin.
“Looks real nice. Reckon he gots a lady?”
“Hope she were'nt expensive.”
“Hee Hee.”
“Smells good. But Different.We musta had a hunnert turkeys here. All pretty good.”
“Don't smell no ham. Where the hell is that ol' Farmer fool?”
But after a while, the whereabouts of Farmer brown no longer concerned them. They walked up into the dining room, right into a world of sparkling wonder. The dining room table was set with the finest gold-trimmed tablecloth ever, and the dishes were all in place and were also trimmed in gold. All of the silverware shined and glimmered. There were all kinds of side dishes available, and they all sat in their dainty little dishes, smelling quite delightful. In the center of the table was a sliver platter of enormous size, and covering it was an equally large handled silver platter cover. Surely it was the biggest turkey ever, or maybe a steroid Ostrich. It all looked like the old coot had finally outdone himself.
But the best part they saw were the seating arrangements. Behind each chair was a slim section of christmas tree, set up on the fronts of a few extra chairs, fully trimmed and decorated, with beautifully wrapped presents placed on the chair seats under each tree section. “The old coot got us presents?!?” (There was nothing in the presents, not even air.) At the top of each tree was a sign for each of the diners, Farmer Brown, Uncle Clem, Aunt Rude-y, Festus, Jasper, and Varmint. It all looked so special and beautiful. At once the the whole family took their places at their assigned seats. Surely there were more wonderful surprises to come. Somewhere in the distance, holiday music began to play. It had to mean Farmer brown was about to make his entrance.
Instead, they saw a huge pig walk in with a lot of multi-colored twine in her smiling mouth. SMILING?!? After a few seconds, the Pig sat down with all of the twine in her mouth tied to something somewhere, they couldn't tell what. Even with all of the twine, they could tell she was beginning to laugh and oink. Have you ever heard a pig laugh and oink at the same time? Think about it. NOW, PUKE!!
The dinner guests were all rooted to their seats in shock, and they would remain that way for the rest of the time, because with one mighty tug from the Pig's mouth, all of the the tree sections, name tags, and presents fell loose to reveal five rifles that were designed to fall forward into place behind each of the guest's heads.
They all had another piece of twine tied around the trigger of each of the rifles, and all of that trigger twine was gathered in Troy's closed wingtip. He had just jumped onto the table in a triumphant flourish. In his other feather wing was a bloodied knife, and yet another single strand of twine. And that twine was tied to the handle of the large platter cover, which was attached to a pulley on the ceiling. Troy pulled the twine and the cover was pulled up to reveal pure Holiday Revulsion.
Farmer brown's naked, headless handless and footless carcass was revealed on the platter, posed exactly like a turkey would be posed. His massive girth had been stuffed up with cornbread stuffing, and there was a little bit of Russet potato and parsley garnish there, too, because, in the end, it's the little things that matter, don't you think?
The thunder and lightning crashed at its greatest pitch as Troy turkey pulled more twine to activate his meticulously staged twine and pulley system for cocking all of the rifles at once. His beak curled into a hideous turkey grin as he used his turkey voice to say,
“Why do you hesitate, dear pilgrims? Eat, my children, and be thankful!”
And soon, after some understandably awkward hesitation, they slowly, methodically, began to eat.
