Thanksgiving Murder

Thanksgiving Murder
A short story by Diana Weeks

Mom told me not to name the turkey the church ladies gave us. It was my job to feed the bird corn to get her fat before she gets the ax on thanksgiving.

I named the fowl Jean Harlow after Pa's favorite movie star. I had noticed our scrawny turkey had a “sure” natural stride like Miss Harlow.

I started talking to her, assuring her that I would help her escape. Yes; I wasn't going to stand by and watch the murder of my new friend.

My folks had to send my twin brother Bubba to work on Uncle Al's farm. I'd been alone with 'them', our parents, who were both out of work and cranky. I had heard one of the church ladies call us 'the most pitiful family in the congregation, a pure insult.

Miss Harlow would strut around the empty chicken yard. Our flock of chickens had been sold the week before the early frost had killed ma's kitchen garden.

“Don't worry about a thing” I told Miss Harlow. “There's a bunch of wild turkeys in the woods. I'll take you there.”

“Hey kid, I like it here” she insisted.. “Food hand delivered.

“Are you crazy? They'll kill you!

“Of course…the way I taste…it thrills the tongue. Yum yum … eating a drum stick or thick slices of my breast. I makes people happy”

“For one day” I say.

I like your folks. I want them to get to keep their turkey eating tradition. Getting together to eat gives families comfort.

It's barbaric. I've got it; you could start laying eggs to earn your keep.”

“No, that hurts. I want to be a thanksgiving turkey. I'll get all the praise! I don’t have to compete with decorated trees or presents for attention. A turkey spirit never dies. I'll come back as. Santa’s elf, the Easter bunny…or the tooth ferry.

I don’t think…I'll be able to eat you. I threw Miss Harlow some more corn…from my apron pocket…and told her. I don’t thing I’ll be able to …eat you.

You must…you can’t ruin the balance of nature. While I’m being stuffed…I’ll find out what the children want for Christmas and be sure they get it.

I can till you right now…I told Miss Harlow… I want a bicycle. But I still won’t eat but maybe one drum stick.

“Gobble, gobble…enjoy me”…she shook her turkey tail feathers.. “Cheer up…a turkey’s spirit never
dies.

My brother made up a Thanksgiving poem last year…when he had to feed the Thanksgiving turkey.

A TURKEY NEVER DIES
Turkey dressing hotly roasted
Turkey sandwich lightly toasted
Turkey salad made of legs
Every meal it’s on your plate
I use mine for fishing bait
Two weeks past Thanksgiving Day
You may turn up in a soufflé
Enchiladas stew or hash
Even Turkey succotash
With imported caviar
Or a chocolate candy bar.
You can feed all the troops
On the Turkey carcass soup…on the Turkey carcass soup.
Miss Harlow flapped her wings, laughed loud and gobbled. Yes child, it’s true. …Turkeys never die…
Mom just doesn’t want you to land on her hips or Pa’s tummy.

THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Christmas Party Crasher

Christmas Party Crasher
A short play by Diana Weeks

Set – The Apex Oil Company's conference room.
Characters : Sonya – Executive Secretary
Shirley – Sonya's best friend and room mate a secretary
At rise: Sonya is on the phone listening and making notes.

SONYA
Yes sir...yes sir...(pause to listen and make notes) Yes sir...
Shirley enters and flops down in the Chairman's puffy dark leather arm chair .Sonya puts her finger across her lips.

SHIRLEY
Yes sir, yes sir...sort of has a rythumn...

SONYA
Thank you sir. (hangs up phone)

SHIRLEY
Our land lord called and threatened us with eviction.

SONYA
My boss just promised me a nice bonus if I host the company Christmas party next week. Mr. Charley's got a date to go to the Mayor's party so he can't stay.

SHIRLEY
You said they weren't giving a party this Christmas.

SONYA
True...but in September, the Chairman's wife spent four-thousand dollars for a designer dress to wear to the office Christmas party.

SHIRLEY
So now they're optimistic. What's the budget, do they get us a couple of boxes of doughnuts?

SONYA
No. My boss Charley is giving me a company credit card. We're going to be okay.

Shirley puts her hands together pointing under her chin.

SHIRLEY
Thank you Jesus for another month we don't have to move back home.

SONYA
Plus ...the company party will be the same night we had invited our friends over for wine and crackers, bring your own cheese bash. Now they can enjoy smoked turkey and baked hams.
SHIRLEY
We call our friends and change the address to here?

SONYA
The lady needs people to see her dress.

SHIRLEY
Do you think the Chairman will notice fifty people he doesn't recognize?

SONYA
No, we don't have faces to him.

SHIRLEY
Wait a second. Most of them are looking for jobs.
Are you inviting company vendors. (Sonya nods yes.) Our friends can make contacts.
They laugh and hug.

SHIRLEY (con't)
How did you find out about the four-thousand dollar dress?

SONYA
A pal...his secretary, who he makes do his personal bills. I had her remind the Chairman
of the pity of not getting to wear such a dress. He's the type who wants to get his money out of everything.

THE END
All Rights Reserved