Sunday, November 25, 2007

The Turkey Escapes

Sailor here.

Mom got up very early this morning to start the process of giving Thanks. She opened the refrigerator door, moved a bunch of parsley, and looked inside to talk turkey. She jumped up and gasped out loud.

“It’s GONE!” she exclaimed. “The turkey is not here!”

I stuck my nose between her elbow and the refrigerator door to take a look. Yup, it was gone. I couldn’t even smell the spot where it had roosted overnight.

“Mom, I don’t think the turkey was ever here,” I said.

“Nonsense, Sailor,” Mom sounded a bit frazzled. “It was here. It had to be here. I bought it yesterday.”

Mom looked high. She looked low. She took everything out of the refrigerator. The turkey wasn't there. Mom was upset.

“Mom, I think the turkey escaped. I bet it flew away,” I reasoned.

“Sailor,” Mom turned to me. “It’s not exactly bikini weather and the doors are all closed. It couldn't have gotten outside.” She sighed. “Help me look.”

We looked high. We looked low. No turkey.

“Sniff around on all the floors," Mom told me. “I’ll look in the car.”

She went out to the car run and checked her trunk.

“It’s not in the car,” Mom announced from the open door to the garage. “Ack!”

“The turkey is probably hanging from the ceiling,” I said. “After all, it’s a bird.”

Mom waved her hands in the air. “If we were celebrating Bat Day, it would be
hanging from the ceiling, but we are celebrating Thanksgiving and that turkey is NOT a mammal.”

“Keep looking,” she said.

Mom sounded a bit scary at this point, and I decided that more sniffing and less reasoning was in order. Mom grabbed her keys, left me in the house and drove off.

When she returned she had something big and white under her arm.

I smelled turkey. The turkey was very big and very, very cold.

“Mom, you found our turkey!” I danced my forefeet on the kitchen floor. “Where was it?”

Mom smiled at me, relaxed for the first time all morning. “Oh, just down the street at the grocery store,” she said in her jokey way. “It didn't fly very far because it was crunchy cold, kind of like the grass in the morning after a frost. And everyone knows that cold turkeys don't travel very fast.”

I pointed out that our turkey had taken its plastic bag with it for protection against the cold. It had also taken a few of its friends with it because Mom also managed to round up an acorn squash, three turkey necks, an apple pie, and a large paper bag.

“Mom!” I said with excitement, “Are the necks are for ME?”

“Yes,” Mom answered, “for both you and Zoe. Go outside now so I can concentrate on this bird.”

Mom sent me into the back yard while she ran warm water over the turkey to thaw it. It must have been really cold last night because I was outside a long time. When Mom let me back in, the turkey was in the oven where it belonged and Mom was doing something loud and scary with a cleaver and the turkey's necks.

“Mom, why does our turkey have so many necks?” I asked, licking turkey splatter from the walls.

“These necks belonged to other turkeys,” Mom told me, wiping splatter from her forehead.

I tried to imagine our neckless turkey walking around but couldn't. This sounded decidedly odd.

Now, the question remains: Just how did this turkey make its escape?

I bet Zoe had something to do with it.

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