Tom’s Lament

You know, it’s starting to get weird around here. For months now they’ve been feeding us on a regular schedule, and now all of a sudden, there’s food all the time!

Some of my buddies have been gorging themselves. “Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die,” they laugh. I don’t think its funny. You see, I’ve heard stories. Stories about a holiday where they round all of us up and take us away. Nobody really knows where we go, but we’re never heard from again. It’s kind of creepy. My friends don’t believe the stories, but I do.

I have decided not to eat like the rest of them. Nothing good can come from getting too fat. The stories say that the fat ones go first. Sometimes people come by and look at us and take away the fattest ones. Why, are they trying to breed a fat race? Do they want to refine our society and restrict it to those who are fat?

Okay, maybe I’m being paranoid. Then again, maybe I’m not. How would you feel? How would you like it if your friends started disappearing for no apparent reason?

Shhh, be quiet, here they come. It’s a lady with blue hair and a smock. The blue haired ladies are the worst of all, they have no mercy whatsoever. “We are looking for a good one. It can’t be too small…” Her voice trails off. Suddenly she turns and looks at me! I suck in my chest, I try to make my cheeks look drawn.

“Here’s a nice one” she says, poking me.

Ahhhh! Think, Tom, think! I know what to do. I cough as hard as I can a couple of times, then fall straight to the floor with my eyes closed. For good measure I add a couple of twitches and a final gasp, my legs straight up in the air. “Yuck, he looks sick” she says. “We’ll take that one over there.”

Phew, that was close! The stories are true! People do come and take us away. I wonder why?

By the way, let me introduce myself, I’m Tom. And yes, I’m a turkey. I still don’t understand this annual turkey slaughter they call Thanksgiving. Just the name, Thanks-giving. What do I have to be thankful for? I’m a turkey! People come and take us away to parts unknown. I’ve heard the stories, now it all makes sense.

One of these days my act is not going to go so well and I’ll be chosen. Then I’ll be frozen. Then I’ll be cooked. And then… I’ll be eaten. How gross. How humiliating, lying in a pan with those little white paper things stuck on the end of my feet, surrounded by gravy made up of my innards and a hard-boiled egg. I hope they don’t overcook me.

Then they will pray over me. They’ll actually give thanks for my dead carcass! Just once I wish somebody would pray a real prayer for us. One that goes like this, “Lord, we give you thanks for this bountiful feast which includes a poor, defenseless turkey who gave his life for our meal. He undoubtedly had family and friends, so remember them in their hour of sorrow and loss of a loved one. Amen.”

In the meantime, I’m going to work on my cough and die routine. No telling when it’s going to come in handy…

Folks, if you don’t have anything else to be thankful for, you can give thanks this Thanksgiving that you’re not on the menu!

Sharpening my carving knife… Jerry.

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