A Turkey’s Last Plea Imagine you are a turkey. You must convince someone not to cook you for Thanksgiving dinner. What would you say to convince them?

A Turkey’s Last Plea By Sinclair

It wasn’t my birthday. It wasn’t Christmas. “Come on Casey, eat some more food,” the farmer gingerly told me. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. In these tough economic times, Farmer Brown had become stingy with the amount of food he was giving us. Now, he was merrily tossing out food for us to eat. I became suspicious and started to wonder why. It wasn’t my birthday. It wasn’t Christmas. * vivid word choices * proper noun

Yum, yum. Eat up!

Is it my birthday? Is it Christmas?

I gave him a wary sideways glance. My mind was spinning like a racecar I gave him a wary sideways glance. My mind was spinning like a racecar. I had to do something and fast! “Look Brown, do you have a moment? We need to talk. I can’t help but wonder why you are being so generous. I know Thanksgiving is around the corner, but do you really think it would be a good idea to have me for dinner? Ever since the economy tanked, I have been losing sleep. Look at me, I barely have any meat on my bones.

Look at this emaciated form of a turkey Look at this emaciated form of a turkey!” I could see it was the first time he noticed that I was in poor condition. “Plus, isn’t the whole turkey thing so old fashion? Why not start a new tradition?”

I could see that my arguments were starting to work, so I pushed forward. “Look at how long it takes you to cook turkeys. For years, I have watched you wake up way before dawn to get that darn old, dry bird cooked. Wouldn’t it be great to sleep in? Imagine what it would feel like to have four or five more hours in your warm, comfortable bed?” His head started to bob up and down, and I knew that I had him almost convinced.

“Who won’t want to sleep in on a holiday. I know I sure would “Who won’t want to sleep in on a holiday? I know I sure would.” I paused and thought for a little while. Then I pulled out my final defense. “You know how much your wife just raves over your barbequed pork ribs! I’ve seen the way her mouth drools when she knows you are cooking it. (Sorry Arnold, I thought to myself, I’m just trying to save my own feathers right now.)

I knew he was thinking fast now I knew he was thinking fast now. “Plus, it doesn’t take that long to cook up a stack of those mouth-watering ribs. You even sing so wonderfully when you are grilling.” “It sure would be nice to have the missus smiling on Thanksgiving, Casey. Thanks, that sounds like a great idea. I think I’ll surprise her.”

Happy Thanksgiving!