This turkey’s face stuck that way.
Edit: He asphyxiated.
… in Cincinatti?
It… It 'twas… soap poisoning!
And Dr. Hannibal Lechter ate the liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
This turkey tried to rob a Gurkha. It is pre-carved.
Regards,
Shodan
This turkey has seen things you wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
This turkey watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate.
Time to die.
This turkey was fighting for its right to live, to exist…and should it have won the day, the 4th Thursday of November should no longer have been known as a human holiday, but as the day when the Meleagris declared in one voice, “We turkeys will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on, we’re going to survive!”
Today, this turkey celebrates its Thanksgiving Day!
Well, at least it would if it weren’t busy being delicious.
PS - Long time lurker - love this board. You all make my day on a regular basis!
And a fine way to hit the ground running! Excellent post. Do some more! Welcome.
This turkey was nuked from orbit, it was the only way to be sure.
In point of fact, a group of people strenuously objected to the winter sports enthusiast’s actions and permitted this turkey to sit and watch as tons of stuff were thrown into the quarry. The turkey was regaled with food and drink (including some turkey sandwiches made from some of his roommates) and was allowed years of entertainment watching the quarry fill up with old refrigerators and TV’s and xbox equipment. The turkey thus lived out a long and happy life and died in its sleep at the ripe old age (for a turkey) of 42 years.
It is suspected that he was dreaming of a sharp knife at the time.
(Future Classic thread!)
This turkey is immortal, born in the Highlands of Scotland four hundred years ago. He is not alone. There are others like him, some good, some evil. For centuries he has battled the forces of Darkness, with Holy Ground his only refuge. He cannot die, unless you take his head and with it, his power. In the end there can be only one. He is your dinner…
This turkey went to see Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theatre.
This turkey was killed with a stake through the heart. Season liberally with garlic.
Ceci n’est pas une turkey
This turkey is dead… wrapped in plastic.
This turkey followed the chicken across the road. But didn’t make it to the other side.
This turkey is a long-time lurker, first-time poster.
(origin of phrase “turkey-lurkey”)
This turkey thought the plastic bag was a toy.
Wouldn’t that be “first-time roaster”?
The Burial of Sir Butterball after Corunna
NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his body to the roaster we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the stove where our hero we curried.
We curried him darkly at dead of night,
The sod with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light
And the lanthorn dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest
With his dressings all around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the body that was dead,
And we hungerly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hollow’d his narrow bed
And smooth’d down his potato pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would feast o’er his head,
And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that 's gone,
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him—
But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his farm fresh and tales merry;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But we served him accompanied with berries.
This turkey is not dead.
There is no turkey.
The turkey is a lie.
This turkey spent the night at the Bates Motel.
This Turkey might
Have stayed alive
Could he have driven
fifty-five
Butterball!
(what, you were expecting Burma-Shave?)