Sailor here.
Well, Mom's finally lost it. She thought she bought turkey necks for my supper but ended up with a package of turkey backs.
"Yikes," I heard her say, "these ribs look sharp. And would you look at the vertebrae? Big, really big."
She then pushed me off the computer and emailed her BARF friends to ask about turkey backs. The consensus was to smash them up a bit with a sledgehammer.
Now, believe me, Mom is NOT, and I repeat NOT, equipped to sling a sledgehammer. Even if she were to pick one up and swing it, I'm afraid it would overbalance her and she'd end up flat on her back gasping and giggling. Mom knows this, too. She said a regular hammer wouldn't do the job either. So, she got out the scary cleaver and chopping block and hacked and cleaved.
This was fun to watch. Bits of backs splattered all over the kitchen. Then she did something really strange. And she didn't even wait for the dark of night.
She rolled up the turkey backs in newspaper and went outside. She backed the car out of the garage, saying that she was taking no chances with antifreeze. If antifreeze is deadly to dogs; I can only imagine what it does to cars. Or turkey backs. Anyway, she put each turkey bundle on the ground in back of each tire, jumped into the car, turned on the engine, and threw it into reverse.
CRUNCH!
So much for my turkey backs. I kept a lookout for the neighbors. Mom has a reputation to uphold, after all.
I just can't wait to see what they actually look like when I get them for supper. I wonder if she will just throw them on my towel on the floor or if she actually has to put them in my bowl. I can't wait. Mom says I have to.
Well, Mom's finally lost it. She thought she bought turkey necks for my supper but ended up with a package of turkey backs.
"Yikes," I heard her say, "these ribs look sharp. And would you look at the vertebrae? Big, really big."
She then pushed me off the computer and emailed her BARF friends to ask about turkey backs. The consensus was to smash them up a bit with a sledgehammer.
Now, believe me, Mom is NOT, and I repeat NOT, equipped to sling a sledgehammer. Even if she were to pick one up and swing it, I'm afraid it would overbalance her and she'd end up flat on her back gasping and giggling. Mom knows this, too. She said a regular hammer wouldn't do the job either. So, she got out the scary cleaver and chopping block and hacked and cleaved.
This was fun to watch. Bits of backs splattered all over the kitchen. Then she did something really strange. And she didn't even wait for the dark of night.
She rolled up the turkey backs in newspaper and went outside. She backed the car out of the garage, saying that she was taking no chances with antifreeze. If antifreeze is deadly to dogs; I can only imagine what it does to cars. Or turkey backs. Anyway, she put each turkey bundle on the ground in back of each tire, jumped into the car, turned on the engine, and threw it into reverse.
CRUNCH!
So much for my turkey backs. I kept a lookout for the neighbors. Mom has a reputation to uphold, after all.
I just can't wait to see what they actually look like when I get them for supper. I wonder if she will just throw them on my towel on the floor or if she actually has to put them in my bowl. I can't wait. Mom says I have to.
No comments:
Post a Comment