Topsy Turvy Turkey Tumbler
It was a crisp morning when I woke to the smell of mashed potatoes and goat poop. The animal feces seemed to have halted my appetite as it invaded my nostrils. With curling toes, I stubbornly walked down the stairs to attend this event in history. My dopey brown eyes peered out the bay windows at the oil painting of leaves falling onto the wooden deck. The sting of not having my mother there was really swelling. Within my well of pity, my absence of father became the pressing issue. I was starting to wonder where my father was. Slipping on my clogs, I opened the moist door to begin the animal farm search party. The front yard was an animal playpen and I greeted them with curiosity and snobbery.
Ick! They smell like the armpit of a wet dog! But, I just want to squeeze them! What if they poop on me? Have you seen goat poop, it’s like a machine gun of grossness?!
Mature, I thought to myself.
The wind chimes sang a calming song, as I strolled to the back yard to find my father. My eyes lit up when I finally spotted him. He was the stereotypical Italian man-short, dark and handsome.
Dad, why is the turkey on the lawn?
My father had a matter of fact look in his eye.
I’m deep-frying the turkey this year! But, the pot over boiled and the turkey fell onto the lawn.
Realizing how humorous that was, I busted out into a toothy smile. Wanting to help my father, I picked up the slippery turkey and it fell out of my carnie hands.
My father yelled. The still turkey seemed to take on a life of it’s own and starting rolling down the grassy hill. Farther and farther it went, closer to the swamp below.
Agh!! Gobble Gobble Gobble!
I screamed, as I went running down the hill. I was a theater student, and quite dramatic.
The turkey voodoo magic seemed to die to down when it came to a stand still. My dad and I plopped down next to the turkey, trying to figure out if it would be weird or not to boil it and eat it.
It went way past the three-second rule.
My valley girl voice chimed in.
Yeah, but sweetheart, bacteria gets killed in boiling water.
He had a point and this would be our secret. Warm tingling sensations came over me as I realized we were making history. At this very moment, in our horror and exhaustion, we had our own bonding experience. It was a father daughter moment that no divorce could take away.