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Word Count: 796
Its the day before Thanksgiving the worst day to be a turkey Currently Im working part-time at the Foraker Farm in Palmer The people are nice My job is to take care of the turkeys and get them fattened up for Thanksgiving Now that normally shouldnt be a big deal However I have bonded with this turkey that I named Giblet Tomorrow I imagine myself in the middle of a decorated Thanksgiving table white booties covering my feet and stuffed with pieces of bread Why would anyone want to eat a beautiful turkey like me My body is perfectly round from visiting the trough so many times a day The beautiful feathers covering me are a mixture of browns and blacks with a few flecks of whites here and there In back there are even more colored feathers fanned out like a neutral colored rainbow Last summer I was named the Fattest Turkey in the state fair and my name appeared in the local paper Now I stand by my trough pieces of feed surround me and I cant help but to shake my head as I peck the seeds The feed lost its taste long ago but I eat anyway this is going to be my last meal ever Out of the thirteen original turkeys on the Allen farm only two remain me and Porky As I peck at seeds Porky circles the rusty wire fence making a clipped gobbling sound his wrinkly red neck stretched out as if the metal blade of the ax is going to cut into his neck at any second Tiny white feathers leap out of his body as he walks floating down and disappearing onto the snow I look at Porky with disgust despite his name Porky is skinny His body is oval in shape he is more like a chicken then a actual turkey He hasnt visited the trough all day If only Porky would have eaten
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