Monday, November 29, 2010

Will's Turkey Story

This is Will's "What Would a Turkey Do on It's Last Day" story.  (With my spelling corrections, otherwise you wouldn't be able to read it.)  He was so excited about this school assignment that he came home and assigned it to everybody else in his family!  In total, 10 turkey stories were read on Thanksgiving- even one from Emily who skyped with us so she could be a part of it too!
So stay tuned for more stories!
You know what?  I hate Thanksgiving.  "Why?" you ask?  I'll tell you. 

It started on the day before Thanksgiving when the farmer was talking on the phone.  "Yeah, we're having turkey for Thanksgiving dinner......Yeah, last time it was pretty good."

A turkey for dinner, I thought.  "He wants me to eat with him for thanksgiving?!  I wonder what we're having?"

"You dimwit," said a pig. (Which can get on your nerves all the time.)  "They are having YOU!"

"I know! They want me to eat with them!"

"No, no, YOU'RE the Thanksgiving dinner!"

I thought about that for a second.  From all the stuff that the pigs have told me this is the weirdest. "What are you talking about?"

"They're going to eat you!"








"Would you stop saying that?!"

"Well, I'm no chicken, I'm a turkey!"

"HEY!" said the chickens.

*    *    *
(He actually drew little circles, to signify that time has passed.)

So now I'm walking along here, hoping the farmer won't chase me when I hear gobbling.  I hurry towards the sound and I find a bunch of other turkeys! "Hello," I say.  Then I have a brilliant idea.  "Did you know the farmer over there wants to cook us and then eat us?" 

There was silence after cries of horror.  "They've eaten enough of us, so I say we fight back!  Let's get revenge!  Either we fight, or get eaten!"  There was silence.  Then I realized how stupid I sounded. 

But then,  "Let's get revenge!  Let's get revenge!  Let's get revenge!"  So then we marched into the night towards the farmer's house.

*   *   *

So here I am.  I'm flying higher than I ever flew before.  So I'm here flying higher and higher and the world below me looks like an ant hill.  I wonder if the other turkeys got out okay after they ran away when the farmer pulled out the pitchfork?  But I'm still wondering how the farmer's Thanksgiving was.  I hope I tasted good.  And that is why I hate Thanksgiving.