I’m Your Thanksgiving Turkey and I Can’t Wait to See What You’ll Be Stuffing Up My Ass This Year!
It’s me, the genetically-enhanced, sixteen pound Thanksgiving turkey who can’t wait to see what kind of random shit you’re going to shove up my ass after this ‘annus horribilis!’
Do I mind? I’m dead! But I’m a little confused about the pleasure you derive from sticking shit up the butthole of my lifeless, plucked and pimpled flesh. You know, most health experts say not to cook stuffing in the bird. But what’s a little salmonella when you’re living in a full-blown pandemic?! You do you, Girl!
Let’s start by remembering to lube up my insides. It’s important! I’d suggest a plain, salted butter but, seeing the mood you’re in, and the way things have gone this year, you’re going to fuck that shit up by putting truffles, rosemary, grass clippings, sticks or old leaves in it, aren’t you? And, no, I don’t have my head up my ass—those are the giblets. Don’t forget to take out that little nut sack before you start fisting me with starch.
Did you bake sourdough bread this year? I bet you’re going to stuff it…in me! Banana bread? Nothing like a little sweet with the savory in my anal orifice. You don’t have any sourdough or banana bread? Are those Pop-Tarts you’re jamming up my booty pipe? That’s going to taste fucking awesome, particularly if they’re the pumpkin spice variety. That pumpkin spice shit is everywhere so why wouldn’t it also be up my old dirt road, as well?
Did you forget that your Meemaw is gluten intolerant? Just a reminder that if you’re not going with that gluten-free cardboard crap, your whole Thanksgiving meal is going to go through her like shit through a goose. Maybe you should consider rice, or cornbread, up my cornhole. Oh, no one is coming for Thanksgiving this year? Do you know you’re talking to a fucked-up avian carcass?
Maybe you can skip the fruit this year. Short history lesson: The first settlers weren’t into fruit. They were busy digging with sticks in the dirt, scavenging for grasshoppers, maggots, toad stools and tubers. So is it your idea to stuff my chocolate starfish with fruit? Apples, pears, raisins, apricots, cram-berries! It’s like a fucking fruit salad in my dookie shooter! The only one who needs that much citrus is a fruit fly!
And what the hell? A can of beer up my Hershey highway? You must be getting desperate. Or drunk. But, since Uncle Bruce won’t be coming either, I guess it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without that stale beer smell to remind you of how he liked to corner you in the back hall and ask you to ‘pull his finger.’
Wait, just because your boyfriend left you and you haven’t had sex in months is no reason to stuff me with sausage! Nothing says ‘I’m fucked’ like a variety of smoked offal encased in intestine skins rammed up the rear rocket dock. The least you can do is make it chorizo! Don’t even think about crab and oysters; You put that shit in there and it’s not going to be sphincterlicious, I’ll tell you that! You’re not really thinking about doing that, are you? ARE you?
Now you’re just scaring me. I know you haven’t been outside in eight months but If I were anal-lyzing you, I’d say you’re having fun spanking my meat! What’s a ‘turducken?’ A deboned chicken you’ve stuffed into a deboned duck and now you’re going to stuff those two avian losers through my coffee crumpet?! ‘Turd-ducken’, I say! Have you lost your mind? I’m guessing that’s a ‘yes.’ You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
Let’s stop and take a minute here, okay? Your laughter is a little off-putting. Did you know that the Pilgrims didn’t have turkey at Thanksgiving? They had duck! And geese! And deer! That’s right—they ate fucking Bambi for dinner! Talk about a Thanksgiving conversation your nieces and nephews would enjoy! And can you just imagine how much stuff you can put up a deer’s truffle tunnel?
Maybe you should think about going vegan. Before you bring out the sharp knives.