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William Bailey

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Member Since: Jul, 2009

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Blogs by William Bailey

A Thanksgiving Turkey Nightmare!
11/26/2009 1:42:05 PM
I suffered through a nightmarish disaster on Thanksgiving Day! My mother and father-in-law along with my wife and I had just sat down to enjoy the wonderful spread my wife had spent the better part of the morning preparing. Martha, my mother-in-law, had just finished saying Grace when the un-carved freshly basted twenty-five pound turkey (which I later found out was purchased at King’s new grocery store in downtown Ludington, Michigan) horrifyingly stood up on its platter. Once it stood, steam continued to rise from its cooked hide as juices dripped from its sautéed body. In temporary shock we all watched in terror as it felt around before quickly finding and gripping the butcher knife, placed on its platter for carving. About the time it lifted the shiny stainless steel blade is when my wife and in-laws let loose bloodcurdling screams and fled the house faster than Glenn Beck can cry. Even though my wife and family were begging for me to follow them, I stayed. I decided no zombie turkey was going to run me out of my own home. I watched for a moment, as the cooked carcass, with knife in wing, wobbled on stubs of bone as it slashed blindly. It knocked over the gravy which pooled on the table before spilling onto the floor. The flailing carcass broke dishes and turned over other servings of food as it continued wildly thrusting the large knife.

As the zombie turkey continued to slash I ran to my den to retrieve my compound bow. Once there I opened the hard-case before removing my bow and loading the quiver with arrows. I notched an arrow, tipped with a razor-sharp broadhead, before returning to the dining room. By this time the headless bird had destroyed the table setting and fallen on the floor knocking over a chair in the process. It continued to slash as a tapping noise came from the exposed bones of its drumsticks hitting the ceramic tiled floor. By rounding the island in the kitchen I was able to position myself to shoot. I pulled back on the string as I stretched the limbs of the bow to maximum firing position. Sensing it was in my crosshairs the basted beast stopped wildly slashing and turned to confront me. With its breast pointing at me, the zombie turkey stood as tall as it could, as if daring me to shoot. Grease continued to drip from its hollow cavity as I took aim and let go, but the zombie turkey was able to dart away allowing the arrow to miss and impale the expensive oak baseboard I had installed when my house was built. The headless zombie turkey ran toward me with knife held high in attack position. I jumped over the island and circled back into the dining room as the cooked turkey stopped in front of the refrigerator. I re-notched an arrow and drew back again, and just when I was about to let go, the evil bird literally winged the butcher knife at me. I ducked to dodge the spinning knife as I launched the arrow. Luckily the knife missed me and ended up stuck chest high in the dining room wall. I then noticed my arrow had missed its mark and impaled the refrigerator’s door puncturing the line to the water dispenser. Water sprayed from the refrigerator’s door as the possessed bird took one giant leap and landed on top of the cooking island. The zombie turkey bent over and moved its neck hole in such a way that it appeared to be looking. It spied a set of butcher knives and immediately scurried to the knife holder before unsheathing one sharp butcher knife at a time prior to winging them at me. I was able to dodge all but one that grazed my left shoulder. This projectile cutlery all ended up stuck in a large oil painting that hangs in the dining room. It just happens to be a prized family portrait that has been handed down from generation to generation.

I was pissed off beyond words at this point! It appeared my anger had excited the zombie turkey by the way it started squatting up and down in joy. I started to approach the undead thing but in self defense it pointed its neck hole at me before firing some sort of grease cannon. The flying spew of grease hit me in the head covered my face and burned my eyes. I let the profanities fly as I wiped the hot grease from eyes so I could see. This is when a disgusting turbulent noise started sounding from the turkey’s inner cavity. It sounded like the worst case of indigestion I had ever heard. This ghastly noise was followed by a river of blood flowing from the zombie turkey’s lower cavity. The blood spilling over the counter onto the floor was a horrific sight. I wanted to end to the madness, so I re-notched another arrow before drawing back. And just when I was going to shoot, the zombie turkey fled by leaping to the floor and darting away. With a large butcher knife in wing, the cooked bird charged out of the kitchen, in and out of the living room, and down a long hallway. In doing so it left a trail of the red liquid two feet wide. The blood stained trail ruined the white carpet my wife and I had installed in September. I followed the sinister trail down the hallway to me and my wife’s bedroom doorway. I could hear the evil undead thing slashing at something. I took a quick glance and by doing so glimpsed the headless zombie turkey on the king-sized bed as it slashed at the now blood drenched mattress. I quickly drew back before leaping in front of the doorway and launching my arrow. This time I hit the featherless beast in the breast. The arrow was stopped after the broadhead lodged in its backbone. The zombie turkey dropped the knife as it tried to dislodge the imbedded arrow with the tips of its naked wings. The turkey’s cavity continued to drain blood like an open hydrant, and the blood was now leaching across the bedroom floor. My feet made a disgusting sound as I stepped and slipped across the scarlet pool of liquid. This is when I lost my footing and fell into the puddle of blood. In doing so I tossed my bow so I could use both hand to break my fall. I slipped and fell again as I tried to regain my footing. Once I was able to stand I was blood red from head to toe. Though it resembled and felt like blood, it emitted a foul odor that I assume can only be found in deepest pit of hell. Drenched wet in red, I glared at the evil bird with the evilest stare I could muster as it continued trying to dislodge the arrow. In a rage I jumped on the bed and fisted the butcher knife with my right hand before I started wildly slicing and stabbing at the zombie turkey. In a fury, I didn’t stop carving until there wasn’t a piece of meat or bone bigger than one’s little finger. When I had finished, blood, meat and bone littered the bedroom windows, curtains, walls, and floor. The bedroom was completely totaled from my rage in killing the basted bird by dissemination. After I got up off the bed with knife still in hand, I could hear my wife at the front door yelling to see if I was okay. My blood was boiling as I exited the bedroom and headed to meet her.

By this time she had entered our house and witnessed the trashed table setting and the trail of blood leading through the living room. She looked horrified when I met her in the living room. I shouted at her with an angry tone, “What did I tell you!” as I pointed the tip of the blood soaked butcher knife at her with my fully extended right arm. She looked down at the floor in shame. I then yelled. “You bought that freaking turkey from Stephen King’s new grocery store, didn’t you! Didn’t I tell you not to buy anything, let alone our Thanksgiving Day turkey, from a store owned by a fiction writer! She mumbled out, “You know I like him, and his turkeys were on sale as part of the stores grand opening.” I shouted, “Now you know why I warned you not to freaking shop there.” That’s when the noise of a shotgun discharging sounded from outside my home. Chasing the noise, I ran outside, and as I did I noticed my mother and father-in-law had taken refuge in their car. I continued to jog across the yard to catch my blood soaked neighbor, from three doors down, who was strutting back across my yard with his 12-guage shotgun in one hand and the remnants of a blasted basted turkey in the other. I said, “Hey Ted, let me guess, you bought your turkey from the new King Grocery.” He threw me a condescending stare without slowing as he replied, “Yep!”

Now that I was outside I could hear dozens of sirens and screams as I continued into the middle of the street in front of my home. I looked down the block each way, and noticed in both views that there were other neighbors chasing or fleeing from zombie turkeys. I witnessed one jump onto a park car triggering the cars alarm before I retreated back into my home. After realizing we weren’t the only family to end up with one of King’s psycho zombie turkeys I felt terrible about shouting at my wife. Seeking to salvage our Thanksgiving and refusing to let one bad turkey ruin our day, I ended up taking a shower and changing before taking her and the family out for dinner in a neighboring town free of zombie turkeys. My wife and I are spending a few nights at her parent’s home until the National Guard restores order to Ludington. Once the remaining zombie turkeys have been destroyed and the Guard gives the all clear, we will return to Ludington, to address our totaled house.

Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving! William Bailey


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More Blogs by William Bailey
• Climate Summit at Copenhagen - Thursday, December 17, 2009
•  A Thanksgiving Turkey Nightmare! - Thursday, November 26, 2009  
• Reflections of Joy Harjo - Wednesday, November 25, 2009
• College - Thursday, October 22, 2009


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