Turkey Day Delirium

We’re into that frightful fourth Thursday month my BTR friends. Even though it’s only one day, the preceding weeks are scary times for me and my cousins. November is synonymous for many things; cooler weather, breaking out the riding leathers, the start of snowbird season and that dreaded turkey day known to you humans as Thanksgiving.

You’re not going to get any thanks from me or my feathered family. The changing of the leaves lets us know that it’s time for the chopping of the heads that we all have nightmares about. There’s nothing worse for us fowl than to see any one of our cackling cousins running around with their heads cut off.

Why did those dreaded pilgrims choose a gobbler to take center stage on such a festive day anyways? Years ago, they could have picked from many other farm or wildlife animals. Perhaps deer day, muskrat month, fall fox festival, hog harvest time, meteorological mountain goat, Autumn alligator, or brrrr… bear month. But no, they chose my larger kinfolk, Tom the turkey.

So what did he do wrong? All that fella does is stand around and gobble. The poor fat bastard can’t even fly, his feathers are prettier than the hens, he always forms a letter “J” when pooping, and now every year there are over 46 million gobbling god-brothers slaughtered for human consumption.

Mike breaks in, “Damn Spyke, what a change of heart you’re having. Last year at this time you were laying around and partying it up with your cousin, Sir Roaster Chicken, cracking open his Coronas and letting him work the remote. Now you’ve done a complete 180. Instead of opening a beer, you’re crying in one.”

“I know Fall is rough for you and your buzzard buddies but complaining to me or your avid BTR readers doesn’t provide much shout out for the cause,” Mike continues. “You need to be more proactive and go global. With your keyboard savvy beak become a pecking poster parrot. Start Facebook and Instagram pages spreading the word about your beliefs.”

I squawk, “Dude! For being a bird brain yourself, you do occasionally have some great ideas. I think I’ll call the page F.O.W.L.S., Free Our Winged Legendary Society and reach out to uninformed humans worldwide. Who knows, I might even get turkeys out of the combined meat section and end all this turkey ham, turkey pastrami, and turkey bologna bullshit going on in the grocery stores today.”

Mike hollers, “You should get vegetarians working for the cause by promoting the vegan-friendly Tofurky roast. Then maybe you can have the all-vegan Foo Fighters tribute band, The Tofu Fighters, create you a theme song about why tofu crossed the road. It would be so cool! They could name it `I ain’t really chicken.` Although Spyke, it’s just a curd to me that tofu is a little overrated.”

I turn and squawk, “Your tofu sandwich is a few slices short and tasteless. I’m already three steps ahead of you. I’ve been working with my buddies Lou and Dan Drumz, musicians in one of my favorite local bands, Dracula Parrot. We’ve been in the studio rehearsing two songs called; `A chicken comes before the egg` and `no turkey please, gimme tofu, bread and beans`.”

“The first song starts out:
Redrum, redrum,
Don’t crack the egg until you have another one.
Redrum, redrum,
Don’t cook the chicken, just let it run!
Redrum, Redrum,
The egg will just be an egg.
Redrum, redrum,
Until the chicken and rooster get to play.
Redrum, redrum,
Eventually, both will get to see the frying pan one day.
Redrum, redrum, redrum…”

“Here is the first verse to the second song:
Turkey, turkey, full and fat,
November’s near, you will soon go splat!
They’ll roast you up and slice you thin,
What a mess you’re surely in.
Filled with stuffing and covered with gravy,
It’s rough to see you lying there so bravely.
What would truly give you Joy,
is a turkey made of soy.
A table full of eyeless treats,
is what all you vegans want to eat.
Bring on the stuffing made with nuts and beans,
Nothing plated that had legs or spleens.
Don’t forget the bread, pasta and seeds,
Fill the table with your non-dairy needs.
Enjoy your no-turkey day, y’all meatless eating machines.”

Tapping his fingers to the beat of the lyrics, Mike replies, “Very cool and catchy. Maybe you could get a few hens on stage doing some background clucking. That would be an awesome show.”

I cackle, “Great idea, Mike. I’ll run it by my brothers in the band. Right now I’ve got a lot of pecking to do before you get your knees under the keys, my wings inside the window, and the wheels of the truck rolling down the road taking me to practice.”
—SPYKE