Gobble Gobble Gobble

Posted by Bruce Ham on November 29, 2013 

Turkey Innards

I had a slight panic attack today. My parents are 77, and I’m not sure what we’re going to do when they stop cooking Thanksgiving dinner. Yo – mom and dad, we’re gonna need a decade's notice, I’m just saying.

I ain’t eating that important feast at an old folks home I’m telling you that. Turkey should be sliced, not pureed. And I’m extremely uncomfortable with my stuffing being served out of an ice cream scoop.

I’m not too worried about my side of the family. That sister-in-law is fair in the kitchen and there are some nieces honing their skills. My brother can deep fry a turkey – although it’s a fire hazard if the singeing of his eyebrows from illegal fireworks last Fourth of July is any indication. I’ll just stay inside.

But the other side of the family is really going to struggle. That sister-in-law is really good at injecting monkeys with infectious diseases but give her a pot and she’s dumbfounded. And then there’s Uncle Jesse – you can't buy Thanksgiving dinner from the Steak and Shake.

Oh, I got an idea! I hear Martha Stewart is on Match.com! Maybe I should sign up and woo her. I got a lot to offer – work for a nonprofit, three teen daughters, skinny but with slight love handles – how could she pass on that? I know, she’s a little older than me, but she would certainly bring something to the table, literally. And Stephanie has a rip in one of her sheets, I bet she could get us a deal to replace that at the K-Mart.

Boy would that be a change. The one time Lisa and I were responsible for Thanksgiving dinner, she told me to get the stuff from between the turkey’s legs. I reached my hand in – “Oh my Lord Lisa! This bird has an erection!”

“What?”

“I swear. I felt it. Go ahead, touch it!”

“I am NOT touching that fowl’s foul. Get it out! We aren’t serving a turkey’s penis for Thanksgiving!”

“Some people must like it or they wouldn’t leave it in there.”

“I bet the factory workers just refuse to remove them.”

Later my mom told me it was the bird’s neck. He sure must have been flexible.

I know! I’ll just give the girls cooking lessons for their Christmas present this year. They’ll love it!

 

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