I never believed anything the news had said once they started spreading rumours of a virus that was serious enough that the government was shutting everything down, though nobody had ever reported getting it. Though I new my family greatly disagreed with me at that, there's no way I would ever believe a ridiculous claim like they'd said a week ago. Apparently there was something that severally malfunctioned at the factory that produced the turkeys that just about everyone would buy for Thanksgiving. My only question was, if that were true, why had they not been recalled and had dozens of them floating around the grocery stores every time I went?
Without hesitation, I grabbed one a few days ago to prepare for the family members I had coming to my apartment for Thanksgiving.
I'd spent all day preparing it. I didn't prepare much else because all the others that were coming were going to prepare a dish or two of their own. It meant less work for me, so of course I agreed to it.
Slowly, my family members began showing up. First was my older sister, Emma. She was the one that brought the stuffing.
Next came my little brother, Mike. He brought the deviled eggs. My parents showed up not too long after. I had to assist them by phone to get here. I had to go out to help them carry things in. They brought the mashed potatoes and gravy, as well as half a dozen two liters of varying sodas.
After getting everything set up, we sat around the table and talked amongst each other as we collected food for our plate. Everything was up for grabs, except for the turkey. After we had filled our plates, I stood over the turkey and began to cut into it. Or at least I tried cutting into it, the skin was too thick for my knife to cut through.
My dad got up to assist me, hinting I wasn't anywhere grown enough to hold Thanksgiving at my place, without outright saying it. Instead of a rebuttal, I stood back as he attempted to cut the turkey. What followed was something none of us couldn't have possibly dreamed of. The turkey began to move on its own. it stood up on its legs and began to do an Irish jig, crossing its wings over its chest and kicking its feet forward one at a time.
Everyone at the table was completely speechless. My father instinctively opened the window and threw the turkey outside. After it was outside, all I could hear were screams from a couple different apartments. Perhaps they had just had the same unpleasant experience we just had.
We continued to feast on our food, not speaking much as we were all still in disbelief. We were uncertain what the future would hold, now that we knew our turkey, and probably dozens of others, might be roaming the streets. What might it have done if we'd kept it in here and still attempted to feast upon it? The thought alone was too horrifying to fathom.
Without hesitation, I grabbed one a few days ago to prepare for the family members I had coming to my apartment for Thanksgiving.
I'd spent all day preparing it. I didn't prepare much else because all the others that were coming were going to prepare a dish or two of their own. It meant less work for me, so of course I agreed to it.
Slowly, my family members began showing up. First was my older sister, Emma. She was the one that brought the stuffing.
Next came my little brother, Mike. He brought the deviled eggs. My parents showed up not too long after. I had to assist them by phone to get here. I had to go out to help them carry things in. They brought the mashed potatoes and gravy, as well as half a dozen two liters of varying sodas.
After getting everything set up, we sat around the table and talked amongst each other as we collected food for our plate. Everything was up for grabs, except for the turkey. After we had filled our plates, I stood over the turkey and began to cut into it. Or at least I tried cutting into it, the skin was too thick for my knife to cut through.
My dad got up to assist me, hinting I wasn't anywhere grown enough to hold Thanksgiving at my place, without outright saying it. Instead of a rebuttal, I stood back as he attempted to cut the turkey. What followed was something none of us couldn't have possibly dreamed of. The turkey began to move on its own. it stood up on its legs and began to do an Irish jig, crossing its wings over its chest and kicking its feet forward one at a time.
Everyone at the table was completely speechless. My father instinctively opened the window and threw the turkey outside. After it was outside, all I could hear were screams from a couple different apartments. Perhaps they had just had the same unpleasant experience we just had.
We continued to feast on our food, not speaking much as we were all still in disbelief. We were uncertain what the future would hold, now that we knew our turkey, and probably dozens of others, might be roaming the streets. What might it have done if we'd kept it in here and still attempted to feast upon it? The thought alone was too horrifying to fathom.
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