The Ruby Rose Report: Why did the turkey crosss the road

 

I was taking my pre-supper walk and roll, where I walked along, until I found something that smelled right to me when both me and my dad stopped like we were performing for judges. To our right, a couple of hundred feet ahead, were two prehistoric turkeys with their beaks stuck the ground.

We have reached an agreement with the turkeys. One: We leave them alone to hunt and peck; Two: They don’t hunt and peck us and three: We go elsewhere for Thanksgiving so the turkeys don’t have to witness us carrying the plucked carcass of unlce Fred into our house, then see us defile his body with butter, shove a side dish into him, then cook him. Honestly, it is a much better deal for us. 

One of the unwritten rules is that turkeys have the right of way. People and dogs let them pass unmolested, and cars stopped for them, so what happened next was very disturbing.

As the turkeys happily enjoyed the pickings of a couple of seniors' lawns the door flew open like it was hit by a Nazi finally knowing where Anne Frank was. But, it was worse.

It was a man, wearing jean shots, with the whitest legs I have seen. His black belt was overlapped by a belly that belonged to a man who has said, at the end of every meal, for 80 years, that a little more won’t hurt. He had a blue t-shirt on, which proudly declared that he had gotten crabs at fisherman’s wharf. His head was bald, except for two strips of white hair just over his ears. And his face was bright red.

We all paused, waiting for what happened next when suddenly the man moved like he had 80 years ago when someone chucked a grenade into his foxhole. His arms were extended over his head like he was at an Eddie Floyd concert. He began to shriek and wave his arms. Then he chased after the turkeys. There was wing flapping and squawking, not from the turkeys. Like a modern-day Gavrilo Princip he broke our treaty and perhaps, unless cooler heads prevailed, would lead to another great turkey war.

We stayed frozen, witnesses to history. Then the man turned, and sat on his steps, staring at the birds across the street. Then the man made a rumble, followed by a cough recognized by anyone who had a family member with congestive heart failure. 

Daddy and I did the bravest thing possible. We slowly backed up until we came to another street which we quickly walked down not wanting to be caught up in the turkey counterattack.

We haven’t walked that way since.

There are murmurs in the trees. The squirrels are stocking up like it was winter’s eve. The wind whispers through the trees something dark and mysterious.

Our treaty with the turkeys was dead, and we prepared for war. One army had an advanced air force, great talons on thier feet, and mighty wings to soar into the sky.

The other army eats dinner at 3:00 PM, need two naps a day, misplaced their weapons ten years ago, and always have to pee.

I am thinking of joining the turkey army,

I like our odds.