I ran into Tom the other day. Tom T. Turkey, that is. (T. for Terrified) Oh, he tried to hide his identity but I’d know that waddle anywhere. He had on some kind of outfit designed to make him look taller but I could see the stilts inside his pant legs. Silly bird.
And his ID card! Did he really, really think he could pass as Paul Bunyan? 8910 North Wood Forest. Honestly! Probably should have been something like 123 Turkey Shed Road! It says he’s Paul Bunyan, Logger. More like PeeWee Runtyan, Toothpicker, if you ask me.
That red plaid shirt with the scarf wrapped around his neck was effective. It hid the dreaded “turkey neck” pretty well. Can’t say much for the beak though.
He was acting awfully weird. In a fowl mood, too. Nothing I said cheered him up. The hens had been pecking at him to lose weight in light of the up-coming holiday, but the chitlin’ scraps had just been too tasty lately. He said it was a conspiracy!
A car backfired as we were talking and he jumped like he’d been shot. Very nearly scared the stuffin’ right out of him.
I offered to buy him lunch to boost his spirits – told him the café had a pre-Christmas special that we could gobble down. Oops! He turned really pale. I guess it didn’t help when I mentioned giblet gravy. He took off at a turkey trot! Touchy little fellow today.
Tom went back to the Bunyan sized woodpile that he had started hiding behind. But not for long. I saw him in the hardware store buying a can of blue paint. What on earth would he want that for?
It’s been a few days since I’ve seen Mr Turkey – er- excuse me – Mr. Bunyan, but I did witness the oddest thing a couple days before Christmas. There was a strange creature in a red plaid shirt astride a blue ox. They were scurrying out of town when I heard him whisper “Giddy-up, Babe, Giddy-up!”
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