A Thanksgiving Nightmare Poem by George Hunter

A Thanksgiving Nightmare

I was sleeping in bed, having bad dreams
Where life is not always just what it seems.
Was walking down this country road
Whistling a tune as along I strode.
All of a sudden, what do I see?
But a herd of turkeys marching towards me.
I knew it was getting close to Thanksgiving
And turkeys can be so unforgiving.

A big Tom approached me
And I could tell that he
Was just as sore as a turkey could be.
He said, “For years you all have been
Turning us into victuals
Just because of stupid rituals.
Now it’s our turn to get back at you
And maybe put you into a stew
Or even have a barbecue.
With candied bird seed on the side
That’s a feast I could abide.
Deep-fried Pilgrim would be good too
And cause a lot of pain for you.
Revenge has been our main ambition
As payback for your pagan tradition.”

They made a fire as big as could be
And prepared to make a roast outta me
Tied me to a spit, put me over the flame
And made me sorry I ever came
Into this dream
And I started to scream
And scream and scream!
They turned me slow
And from time to time
Basted me with some butter and lime

They said gobble, gobble, gobbble, a way so neat
Of saying I prefer to have white meat.
Another said, A drumstick to me bring
Or that part that substitutes for a wing..
Save the wishbone and we’ll make a wish
And thank the Turkey God for this sweet dish.
And that liver and gizzard is good in stuffing
Just to show him that we’re not bluffing.
We’ll have some cranberries and sweet potatoes too
And a pumpkin pie and a mince for you.

The turkeys all stood around
Downing shooters of Wild Turkey Whiskey
Which was making them high and feeling frisky.
Then all together they gave a big cheer
And chased the booze down
With schooners of beer.
And I figured it was high time
To get the hell outta here.

So I woke myself up before I was done
And spoiled all the turkey’s devilish fun.
I knew in my heart
It hadn’t been actually real
But that didn’t change
The way that I feel.
That dream was very vivid, you see
So, for now, no more eating
Turkey for me.

Maybe I can eat some ham instead
But then I’ll be afraid
Of going to bed.
I might dream about
A huge old pork
About to jab me with a fork.
Better stick to just french fries
And not eat anything that has two eyes!

Edwin Empestan (alba) 22 November 2009

Very nice poem but french fries is carb that can make your sugar rise yes those old rituals never ends makes people unnecessarily spend

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