The Horrible, Terrible Thanksgiving

by Benjamin T. Olsen

I know what you're thinking; how could Thanksgiving be horrible? Well, if you're a turkey it is horrible. It all started last thanksgiving. I was eating feed when I heard the front door slam. I looked up and saw Mr. Hobbs greeting his family. I knew that in a matter of time he would come out and get one of us. I was not that afraid; there were lits of turkeys, so I knew he would not single me out. But I was wrong. He came out with his Winchester rifle and started to shoot at me! I was running everywhere and squawking up a storm. All the other turkeys just watched. One turkey was yelling, "Run! Run! Get away!"
I said, "Thanks" in a sarcastic tone.

I tried to hide in the trees but then he started to shoot at the trees (and let me say, with all those trees falling, I'm positive he'll have enough firewood). I hid in a tree. That owl was not happy. I got down and started to walk home. When I got there - no turkeys. I knew where they had gone: Turkey Cave - a place where turkeys hide during Thanksgiving. I went there; it was packed with turkeys. I squeezed in with the rest of them. That's when the farmer came in. It was panic!

All the turkeys ran in all directions. I ran to the chicken coupe to hide. I acted like a chicken and no, I'm not a chicken. Wouldn't you be scared if a bloodthirsty farmer was after you?

Well all the turkeys made it on that Thanksgiving, but I'm sorry for the deer.