Paper Frills Decorative Holders For Turkey Legs....[ Kids; Parents; Food; Dining; Horror? ; Humor; Thanksgiving ] Poem by Bri Edwards

I don't dine in five-star restaurants; no frills I need while eating;
I've no desire for a waitress to help me with my.......seating.
But, in seeking new poem titles, it may seem I search the dregs*;
today I found 'Paper Frills Decorative Holders for Turkey Legs'.

I've seen photos of such holders, years ago, in magazines, but,
as you may have guessed, I don't dine on fancy food aka cuisines*.
Amazon advertized the Holders @ about 6 dollars for a pack of 8, but
I can lick my sticky fingers if I have to; at home I lick my own plate.

But it's not simply leg holders for drumsticks* which this poem is about.
In fact, what I thought of would perhaps cause a diner to shout, ....
and perhaps even run from her meal, panic showing upon her face,
forgetting she's dining in public, doing what others might call 'a disgrace*! '

What I THOUGHT OF:

I thought: What if I were seated at Grandma's house and was asked: 'Bri, ....
which part of this beautiful Thanksgiving turkey would YOU like to try? ? '
Let's say I was ten years old, and the drumstick 'holders' caught my eye.
I'd not seen a 'holder' before; I said 'drumstick'. Mom might say: 'Oh my! '

Well, except for the white paper holder, a drumstick was ALWAYS my choice,
....even though there were only two, and I knew a few, like my Aunt Joyce,
would want one too! Anyway, I was asked and what was I supposed to do? !
A drumstick with holder was mine, I held it high, and on it I began to chew.


What happened NEXT? !

All seemed ok at first. I fooled around with the 'holder'; I pulled away some frilly white fringe.
After a while, the holder loosened and I set the leg down, and then I began to CRINGE*.
Instead of seeing just the cooked end of a leg bone where, in life, the bird's 'foot' would be,
the bone beneath the holder began to lengthen, to grow! ! I wondered if others could see.

At first I tried to ignore 'it', as I scooped up peas I'd embedded in my mashed potatoes.
I poked my fork at the broccoli, tried some cranberry sauce. I'd have prefered tomatoes.
The holder was still hiding what was happening, and others were enjoying their food.
I WANTED to excuse myself from the table, but Mom would say: 'Bri, that's pretty rude.'

I peeked more under the holder, which was failing to stop what looked like scaly skin.
Yes, skin, shiny and black was forming on the lengthening bone that was within.
I tried, when I thought no one was looking, to put the leg in my lap in a cloth napkin.
But then my big cousin, Mike, said to me: 'Bri, keep eatin', boy, what's happenin'? '

A few more relatives looked over at me. I said: 'I'm getting full. I'll sit here and just rest.'
I was holding the 'leg' in my lap, and I was trying to decide on a plan which was best.
But, ALL OF A SUDDEN, I felt something clamp around my middle finger; it did HURT.
'MOM, I really NEED to leave the table NOW! ! ! ' Yes, that's what I did then loudly blurt*.


The Disgraceful Ending....for now at least

NOW my Mom was NOT my 'loving mom', and my dad also looked for sure upset.
Mom said: 'Bri unless you are desparate to use the toilet, DO NOT.............LET...
ME...hear.... another peep out of you! ' 'Yes, Mother' was my 'forsaken cry'*.
For a few minutes more I struggled to not cry and bolt* from the table. I DID TRY!

The pressure on my finger increased dramatically; I could see a few turkey toenails.
Before too long I felt like a boat, with hurricane-force winds filling my boyish sails.
And so I disobeyed my dear mom, as I screamed & ran outdoors, panic upon my face.
So help me G--d, I'll never forgive any of them if any should dare call me a disgrace!

The next Thanksgiving, I gave Aunt Joyce 'my' drumstick.


(March 24th,2023)


*dregs: I'm using dregs to suggest something left over when....
all the 'Good Stuff' is already taken by others.

*cuisines: It need not be fancy to be a cuisine, which may just....
mean food!

*drumstick: the (usually cooked for humans to eat) leg of a bird, NOT including
the thigh or the foot

* disgrace: I'll suggest: 'Loss of honor, respect, or reputation'

* cringe: 'To shrink back, as in fear; cower.'

* blurt: 'To utter suddenly and impulsively.'

* 'forsaken cry': I, Bri, am not sure how to define this. To me it indicates that I'd given up
the hope that Mom would just let me LEAVE, trusting me to know what was best for
ME. How could I have expected her to believe the truth IF I told her what was
happening?

* bolt: here: 'to move or proceed rapidly: dash'