Tom Turkey’s Trick to Avoid Thanksgiving

When Tom Turkey arrived at the farm he really didn’t know what was going to happen. After all he had just broken out of his shell, shed those ugly baby feathers, and filled up and out. He was ready to strut his stuff.
However, he admitted to himself that he had no idea what the farm routine was. This guy placed him in a large pen with a bunch of chickens. After a few minutes he sauntered over to a hen and asked nonchalantly, “So what do you do around here?”
The hen looked at him with big blank eyes. “Well, mostly we stand around waiting for the guy with the bucket of seeds to come up and start throwing the seeds at us. Then we all scream and run towards him.”
“And what’s the point of that?”
We eat seeds of course. I thought everybody knew that.”
“No, I mean what’s the point of yelling and running? “
“Well, everyone else does it,” she replied. “I think it has to do with telling everyone to get out of my way because I’m hungry. And I run because if I walked, all those old biddies will eat every seed, and I won’t get anything.”
“So you go hungry sometimes?” Tom asked.
“Oh no, I always run and scream.” She was about to wander off when she stopped to add, “One last thing, don’t be greedy and eat too much. You’ll get fat and—“ She turned her head sharply when she caught a glimpse of the guy with the bucket of seed walking to the pen. “Food! Get out of my way! She screamed as she scurried toward the fence. “Move it! I’ve got babies to feed!”
Tom wondered what would happen to him if he gained too much weight. He sure as hell didn’t want to go to one of these fat farms, whatever they were. He saw a pig rolling in the mud near the fence. Trotting over Tom cleared his throat which must have sounded like plain old gobbling to anyone passing by.
“Excuse me,” Tom said politely. “A hen just told me to watch how much weight I put on. Do you know what she was talking about?”
The pig just then rolled onto his back and wriggled his butt, which must have relieved an enormous itch because he grunted in satisfaction.
Tom waited for the pig’s ecstasy to subside, hoping he would receive some sort of response to his question. None was forthcoming.
“Hey! You!” Tom hollered.
The pig’s eyes rolled to the side to observe the turkey.
“Huh?” he snorted.
“I said what happens if I gain too much weight?” He was so profoundly frustrated his feathers immediately puffed out to their fullest, including his tail feathers which looked like a beautiful brown and white fan.
The pig took a moment to wriggle his but one more time before answering, “They eat you.”
“What!?” Tom erupted with an out-of-control gobble.
“Listen, my friend, we all got to die one day so just enjoy the chow and the dames. Yep, we got Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up soon. Now if you don’t mind, one of those sows over there is giving me the eye.”
Then he wandered off, leaving Tom to ponder his future. He looked over to the other side of the pig pen where a cow stood placidly munching on some grass. The turkey ambled over and started a conversation.
“Now are you, my good cow?”
“I’d be better off if I could get rid of these damned flies.”
“So,” Tom continued slowly, “what do you think about the upcoming holidays?”
“I absolutely love Thanksgiving,” she crooned. “The guy gives me pumpkin to eat. He throws it on the ground and I ram my head into it, cracking it open. The taste is to die for.”
“Speaking of death,” Tom interrupted, “do you ever wonder about dying?”
The cow stopped in mid-chew. The grass fell from her mouth. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The pig just told me the guy that brings the food kills pigs and turkeys. It’s for Thanksgiving and Christmas.” Tom paused for the cow to say something, but she just stood there with a blank stare in her eyes. “Don’t people like to eat cow?”
“It’s called beef, darling, and we are delicious,” she replied. “Of course, I don’t have to worry about that because I’m so entertaining.”
“Entertaining?” Tom shook his head. He was getting hit by a lot of existential allusions, and they were wearing thin on his nerves.
“I have a beautiful voice,” the cow explained. “Thy guy is entranced by my mooing, so I moo all the time just for him. I have big brown beautiful eyes which I flutter every time he passes by. And I give him a big wet kiss. Men love to be kissed.”
Tom Turkey didn’t know what to make of this. “I don’t kiss.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re a turkey, but if you want to live you better find something pretty damn fast that the guy thinks is adorable or you’ll end up on the dining room table.”
Tom had not been around all that long, hardly any time at all, and to find out it was all going to be over before he knew anything about life caused him to shudder. His feathers puffed out again as far as he could puff them.
“Hey, that’s pretty cool,” the cow said. “Can you do that any time you want to?”
“Do what?” Tom asked. His patience with the other farm animals had just about reached a breaking point.
“Puff your feathers out like that. One minute they’re limp and, bam, they’re at attention. “Pretty damn impressive if you ask me,” she said and then lowered her head to pick up the grass that had fallen from her mouth.
“Puffing out my feathers? You must be kidding me.” By now he had calmed down and the feathers collapsed.
“Boo!” the cow bellowed.
The turkey’s feathers immediately went to full attention.
“See what I mean?” The cow winked at him. “You’re a star, baby.”
Later in the afternoon that guy with the bucket showed up again, and started throwing out the seed. Instead of running and screaming like the chickens, Tom popped his feathers up and strutted over to the fence like he owned the place.
The guy stopped in mid-toss and smiled at the turkey. He grabbed an extra-big handful of seeds and tossed them right at Tom. When the chickens turned to rush toward him, he gobbled as loud as he could which made the chickens stop abruptly. He then proceeded to eat at a leisurely pace. I could get used to this, he told himself.
The next morning, the guy with the bucket walked up with this woman and a couple of children. Instinctively Tom puffed up and strutted for all it was worth over to them.
“See what I mean?” the guy with the bucket told the others. “He does it every time.”
Tom let out a long, loud gobble.
“Boy, he lets you know when he wants his food too,” the guy said as he threw a big hand-full of seed at the turkey. “When the family comes over for Thanksgiving dinner we’ll have to bring them out here to see the turkey puff up.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tom said as he gobbled down his food, “I am a star.”

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