Terrifying turkey terrorizes T-giving
By Ida B. Lyon
COLE SHACK, N.Y. – In the rustic cottage of the Daemon family, Matthew Daemon was watching TV while his brother Jacques arm-wrestled their adventurous cousin Patricia. The sweet aroma of Ma Daemon's home cooking wafted in from the kitchen as they waited to feast.
"How about checking the cemetery for Les Spectres?" Jacques said. "I have a funny feeling they'll be restless tonight."
"Why is that?" Patricia asked. "You know the old saying—'The living have Thanksgiving, the dead have Thanksgraving.'"
Suddenly, Ma interrupted. "Soup's on!"
The Daemon clan eased into the dining room where the table was filled with delicious cranberry sauce, homemade stuffing, yams and a big bowl of bubbling brown gravy.
While Matt served the corn chowder, Ma went back into the kitchen and took the turkey from the oven. However, as she picked up the carving knife to cut the first slice, the turkey suddenly leapt from its plate and grabbed the blade from her trembling hand! Then it jumped to the counter, knocking over cups and drinking implements as it advanced on the woman.
"Help!" she cried. "The turkey's in the straws!" Matt was the first one to arrive, manfully positioning himself between the baleful bird and his mother. He snatched up a serving fork and poked at the turkey's breast to keep it back. The foul fowl flung the knife at Matt, missing him by scant inches. It hopped over and recovered it, then vanished into the living room.
"I told you we should have gone to the cemetery!" Jacques said when he arrived.
"Too late for that now!" Matt shouted. "Pat, get me the TV remote, a box of thumbtacks—"
Before Matt could finish his sentence, Pat—sensing what he would need—had already hit the remote control, channel surfing at high speed. The kaleidoscopic images caught the attention of the berserk butterball. As it was distracted, Jacques strew the thumbtacks all around it. Tearing its headless self from the TV, the bird-thing continued its charge. Stepping on the tacks, its demonic drumsticks flailed about.
Now that his mother was safe, Matt reached for the handiest heavy object: A large framed portrait of their late father Phillip. Matt brought the picture down hard on the ghoulish gobbler. The shattered glass impaled the turkey, ending its reanimated trot.
After cleaning up the debris and pulling the large shards of glass from the turkey, Ma Daemon finally carved it and fed her clan. First, however, she said grace.