Group: Short Story Writing Exercises - old

Exercise: Turkey Lurkey

With Thanksgiving just weeks away you are very aware that the hunt is on. You Mr Turkey must either avoid or get the jump on Mr Pilgram before you end up on the dinner plate. Hows it going to be are you stuffed or not? Is Mr Pilgram history? You decide.

Very short story, poem or essay from the turkey's point of view.

Deborah Boydston

6th November 2011

I knew as early as June that Thanksgiving was coming. Oh I'm a smart Turkey. I was around last year but I was just a wee chick at that time and no-one would have thought of cooking me for Thanksgiving dinner.

But this year is different. I ate all winter long. I mean I stuffed myself (if you'll pardon the pun). I was as fat as a butterball. (pardon that pun too, please). And it shows. I weigh 22 pounds, and if I must say myself, I am a prize. I know that Farmer Jones has his eye on me. I can tell by the way he singles me out and tosses a huge handful of corn my way when he feeds the barnyard chickens and the rest of my clan. Once I even caught him in the barn at a big grindstone, sharpening his axe. He looked right at me and smiled. I don't know what he's got against me, but it brings a totally new concept to the old addage of having an axe to grind.

Turkeys brains aren't as big as one of their eyes. I'm no exception to that rule, but I pride myelf on being able to think ahead of the flock. So just how will I avoid being Mr. Jones dinner at the end of this month? Maybe I can get on the good side of Mrs. Jones. With that thought in mind, I got up this morning and walked all over the barnyard picking up little pieces of goose down with my beak. I carried them, one by one, to an empty bushel basket and deposited them until the basket was full. Then I squawked and gobbled until Mrs. Jones came out to see what the problem was. I ran to the basket and stood behind it, my chest protruding, and chirped as friendly as I could. I think she was pleased that someone had gathered up a full basket of goose down to make a feather bed for her.

I went ahead of her to the chicken coop and shooed all the chickens off their nests so she could gather the eggs undisturbed. I pulled up a whole mess of fishing worms, dropped them in a can, then took them to her as she was fishing in the stream. She actually smiled at me.

"What a smart Turkey," she said.

I wasn't smart enough, though. They ate my girlfriend.

Don Yarber

6th November 2011

This is soooooo good and funny, I was laughing so hard that my son and husband had to come see what I was doing. great start to the exercise.

Deborah Boydston

6th November 2011

Twas the night before Thanksgiving,when all through the farm,
Not a creature was stirring, no one to raise the alarm.
My traps were all set in the pathway with care,
In the hopes that morn would catch the farmer there.

The humans were nestled all snug in their beds,
With visions of cranberries filling their heads.
With my hen in the nest box and I on my roost,
We'd just settled down when such a noise was produced.

From outside the door there came such a yell,
That I gave a great start; from my perch nearly fell.
Away to the door I quickly did lope,
To see what had caught itself on my trip rope.

The moonlight shining down made a scene rather freaky,
As I peeked 'round the door, all cautious and sneaky,
And what, by my wondering wings, should be there,
But Farmer Bob on the ground, dirt and hay in his hair.

Though his face was a wondrous fright to behold,
The sight that sickened me as if caught a cold,
Was the cleaver he held tightly clenched in one fist,
Which he brandished as he yelled out with a twist of the wrist.

“Now Tom! now Henny! now young un’s, ‘specially Jake,
Com’on guys, you know I can’t use the drake,
Don’t be like this, be good, and it won’t hurt a bit,
Now come to me, come, right here where I sit!”

Chilled that our lives had almost been taken,
I looked on and shuddered, thoroughly shaken,
At the sight of the farmer, treacherously cunning;
Only thoughts of my loved ones kept me from running.

I adjusted my wings, my plumage proudly I puffed,
And strode boldly before him, for I will not be stuffed.
I strutted a bit, and taunted a little,
As he strove to his feet, beginning to spittle.

He swung madly his cleaver and I quickly took flight,
Flapping and dodging, left, center and right,
Leading him on through the doors I did run,
He pushed the doors open, and so began the fun.

As they swung open before him with a loud, high-pitched creak,
He got dumped on his head manure of a putrid reek,
That he staggered into the next trigger set steady,
And got socked in the middle with a board I’d made ready.

He spun around twice and dropping the cleaver,
He gripped onto a beam with a face like a fever.
Unluckily, for him, that beam I’d greased up pretty rough,
And he slipped right on by straight into the water trough.

With a splutter he surfaced and pulled himself out,
Landing on the ground, he paused and looked about,
Before proceeding to stand, mustering his will like a drover,
When at my call all the animals stampeded him over.

He was dirty and red-faced, a right battered chap,
And I laughed at the sight of him covered in crap.
A twitch of the eye and shake of the head,
Soon let me know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word but got straight to his feet,
Adjusting his hat, he knew he was beat,
And laying his hand on the side of his head,
He turned to go back inside to bed.

He paused, and leaned on the door with a groan,
And glanced back at the wreckage sourced from my genius alone,
I heard him mutter as he disappeared from sight,

Krystabel Harris

7th November 2011

"Happy Thanksgiving than guys, and for goodness sake, goodnight!"

I apologize for this being kinda long... it just didn't work otherwise =/ hope you enjoy it regardless! ^-^

Krystabel Harris

7th November 2011

My apologies again, the second line of the 6th last verse should read "manure of such putrid reek" =S

Krystabel Harris

7th November 2011

lol very cute take on the "The Night Before Christmas". Loved it Krystabel.

Deborah Boydston

8th November 2011

It wouldn't let me post my story here so I added it to the Group. It's called "A Few Good Turkeys". It say i exceeded 3000 characters but it's not that long? I dunno... Anyway I hope you like it.

Jessica Shaffer

9th November 2011

Ok i will got look at it on my lunch break. Thanks for responding.

Deborah Boydston

9th November 2011

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