The turkey is negotiating for his life right now.
He may be giving up. He's requesting a priest now.
Tears roll off his beak as he eats his last meal. It's a favorite from his youth: Mama's creamed tuna on toast with sweet peas. Afterward, he inhales the best cigarette he's ever had.
The walk to the chop block is deliberately slow. The kids trail behind, wailing. In the distance, a church bell tolls with each step. He knows the bell tolls or him.
They reach the block. Now at peace with his sentence, he throws a challenging glance at the instrument of his own demise: a shiny axe. You can take my life and my body but my soul will be free, he thinks, snickering to himself.
The axe swoops up slowly as the turkey locks eyes with his executioner. "Gobble Gobble" says the turkey in the last second of his life. His detached head rolls off the block leaving behind the family feast.
Today's technology cannot translate turkey speak but the machines of tomorrow will give a chilling transcript of the turkey's last, only words.
"May the ingestion of my flesh cause a post-feast, mouth-gaping, football missing food coma and uncontrollable, sweat inducing diarrhea standing in line on Black Friday you bastards."
3 comments:
ok, that's funny! Lars
still love the story
wasn't expecting that ending !! NICE!!
Post a Comment