Here’s a little Turkey tale, a bit on the dark side since we’re still feasting on Halloween leftovers…lol. We wish you all a HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
…the cold turkey answered. “Heed my words, or they’ll stuff you before your head hits the ground!”
Thomas swallowed hard.
“CHOP! CHOP!” the cold turkey mocked.
“You shouldn’t say such things. It’s forbidden,” Thomas reasoned, stalling for time.
The cold turkey laughed again as it came closer and said, “Yes, Thomas, it’s forbidden to speak of Thanksgiving. Lord knows, if we start talking about it, we just might figure out the truth, and they won’t like that at all, not at all.”
“How fat are you, Thomas? How long have you been nice and plump and ready for eating?”
“Who’s idea do you think that was, Thomas?” The cold turkey continued. “Maybe we should ask all the others that went missing?”
“No one’s missing,” Thomas declared, “they’re all locked away because they were crazy like you!”
“Is that what you think, Thomas?” The cold turkey laughed. “Or is that what they want you to think?”
“I know about your kind,” Thomas said defiantly. “I know about the facility, we all do. Thanksgiving is nothing more than an old wives tale to scare the gobble out of small children.”
“I hear them, you know,” the cold turkey interrupted, looking very grave.
“Who do you hear?” Thomas nearly whispered.
“They tell me things, Thomas. They tell me how they died.”
“Stop it you crazy old bird!”
The cold turkey revealed a large carving knife he’d hidden behind his back.
Thomas backed up slowly, regretting raising his voice and angering the mad bird.
“After they chop off your head,” the cold turkey hissed, waving the knife around in the air, “they tear out your guts and stuff you with hideous things; dressing, they call it.”
Thomas covered his ears, “Stop this! I won’t hear it!”
“After they stuff you, they throw you in the fire and watch you BURN!”
The cold turkey continued his horrific tale with disturbing glee, “Then, when they’ve tortured your remains to their satisfaction, they place your carcass on a plate and set you on their altars. Then, they pray to their gods, giving thanks and casting spells to bring you back to life while they slice you open!”
“Please, stop,” Thomas felt faint with fear.
“Finally, when you think the torture has ended, they throw your remains in a cold, cold place and slowly feast on you for weeks after!”
Thomas was in tears. He’d heard far too much.
The cold turkey dropped the knife and moved over to Thomas, comforting him with a featherless wing. “Yes, Thomas, it’s all true. They don’t want us talking about this. They don’t want us to run.”
“Who?” Thomas managed.
“The men at the facility. The Thanksgiving monsters who ripped off all my feathers before I escaped. They’ve been watching us all this time, getting us fat and ready for slaughter. Not all at once, mind you; just a few of us at a time, just enough for their feasts.”
“What can we do?” Thomas pleaded.
“I came to warn you, Thomas. Now you must go and warn others.”
“If you’re right then we’ve been living a lie all these years,” Thomas stated in disbelief.
The cold turkey said nothing.
“What do I do?” Thomas asked.
“Warn them, Thomas. Tell as many of them that will listen and guard yourselves well in the night. You will know them by their words, Thomas. When you hear them ask the question, it may already be too late.”
“What question is that?” Thomas asked.
After a chilling pause, the cold turkey whispered, “White or dark meat?”
“Cold Turkey” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko and Scott Scherr. All rights reserved.