Black November

This poem really makes me chuckle

When I was a young turkey, new to the coop, my big brother Mike took me out to the stoop.

Then he sat me down and he spoke real slow.  And he told me there was something I just had 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 will burst the farmers wife, and hack of your head.

Then she’ll pluck out your feathers till you’re bald and pink, and then scoop out your insides leavin ya lyin in the sink.  And then comes the worst part he said not bluffing, she’ll come in

and pack your rear end with stuffing.

Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat, I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat, and decided on the spot 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 soda.  And as others ate pastires, chocolate 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 the bigger birds laughed.

But twas I who was laughing, under my breath, as they chomped and chewed ever closer to death.  And sure enough when Black November rolled around, I was the last turkey left 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 smiled at me saying…CHRISTMAS IS COMING!