Site Meter
|The Thirsty Theologian| |Sola Gratia| |Sola Fide| |Solus Christus| |Sola Scriptura| |Soli Deo Gloria| |Semper Reformanda|
|The Thirsty Theologian| |Sola Gratia| |Sola Fide| |Solus Christus| |Sola Scriptura| |Soli Deo Gloria| |Semper Reformanda|

Previous · Home · Next

Holidays Are for the Birds (or vice-versa)

Surviving Thanksgiving*

When I was a young turkey, just new to the coop,
My big brother Mike took me out on the stoop.
Then he sat me down, and he spoke real slow,
And he told me there’s something I needed to know;
His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of Black November.

“Come about August, now listen to me,
Each day you’ll get six meals instead of just three.
And soon you’ll be thick, where once you were thin,
and you’ll grow a big rubbery thing under your chin.
And then one morning, when you’re warm in your bed,
In’ll burst the farmer’s wife, and hack off your head.
Then she’ll pluck out your feathers so you’re bald and pink,
And scoop out all your insides, leave you in the sink;
And then comes the worst part,” he said, not bluffing,
“She’ll spread you wide open and pack you with stuffing.”

Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat,
imageI sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat,
And decided right then, to avoid being cooked,
I’d have to lay low and remain overlooked.
I began a new diet of nuts and granola,
High-roughage salads, juice, and diet cola;
And as they ate pastries, chocolates, and crepes,
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes.
I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice when bigger birds laughed.
But ’twas I who was laughing, deep under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death;
And sure enough, when Black November rolled ’round,
I was the last turkey in the entire compound.

So now I’m a pet in the farmer’s wife’s lap.
I haven’t a worry, so I eat and I nap.
She held me today, while sewing and humming,
And smiling, she said, ”Now, Christmas is coming . . .”

* Very few of these stories are original (Ecclesiastes 1:9), but most are revised and rewritten my own way. This one is almost entirely verbatim as I found it, with only a few minor revisions to improve the meter. I wish I could give credit to the original author, but I never knew who that was.

Posted 2018·11·23 by David Kjos
Share this post: Buffer
Email Print
Posted in: Christmas · Humor? · Thanksgiving Day

← Previous · Home · Next →

Who Is Jesus?

The Gospel
What It Means to Be a Christian

Norma Normata
What I Believe

Westminster Bookstore

Comments on this post are closed. If you have a question or comment concerning this post, feel free to email me.