Turkey Day Redux
 
Hey everyone--I posted this last year but thought it might be nice to repost it for the new people since tomorrow is Turkey Day here in the states (aka Mashed Potato day for those vegetarians out there.) Enjoy some Taco love.


  

James: Where is it?

Sam: Specifics and context, please.

Ramon: What he said.

James: The turkey. WHERE IS THE TURKEY?

Sam: You’re asking the vegetarian?

Ramon: You better not be asking the were bear.

Ramon: Because speciesism is wrong.

Sam: I now suspect Ramon of turkey theft.

James: I will poison you both.

Ramon: Poison us with LOVE. :)

Sam: We’re dead.


James: Your compatriots are useless.

Frank: Good morning, James.

James: Do you know where the turkey might be?

Frank: We got a pet turkey?!?

Frank: Hide it from the gnomes or they’ll ride it.

James …


Sam: Why is he so riled up about the turkey?

Sam: Side note- did you eat the turkey?

Ramon: It’s Thanksgiving aka Turkey Day. And no.

Sam: I call it Mashed Potato Day.

Ramon: Of course you do, hippie.

Sam: Can’t we just have dinner without the turkey?

Sam: Does anyone care that much?

Ramon: Need I remind you that there will be several werewolves attending?

Sam: …we better see if any stores are open. Just in case.


Frank: I asked the gnomes about the turkey.

James: And?

Frank: They haven’t seen it.

Frank: But they now want turkeys so they can patrol the yard “in style.”

James: NO.

Frank: They’re threatening to strike if they don’t get turkeys.

James: I don’t have time for this.


Sam: Where did you last see the turkey?

James: On the kitchen counter in the roasting pan.

James: I had just taken it out of the brine.

James: I left it alone for two minutes.

Sam: Any chance it could have just walked off on its own?

James: Dinner is in six hours. SIX HOURS.

James: No, the turkey didn’t just “walk off.”

James: It was very, very, dead. Dead, plucked, gutted, and brined.

Sam: Like being dead means anything in this house.

Ramon: I think I found the turkey.

James: Thank heavens.

Sam: Settle a bet for us—did it walk off on it’s own?

Ramon: You’re not going to like it.

Ramon: And no.

James: What does that mean?

Sam: I bet I could make it dance. Party trick!

Ramon: Taco got it.

James: What do you mean exactly?

Ramon: I mean that a pygmy chupacabra is currently sprinting across the lawn.

Ramon: He is quite speedy despite dragging a turkey twice his weight.

Ramon: Little guy is just flying across the grass.

Sam: Pictures or it didn’t happen.

Ramon: the festive sweater is a nice touch.

James: Get it away from him!

Ramon: Trust me, you don’t want it back.


Sam: James is crying in the kitchen. 

Sam: It’s not even 10 AM.

Sam: He’s sobbing into a cloth napkin. 

Brid: Oh my.

Sam: The dining room looks like Pinterest threw up.

Brid: Is that why he’s crying?

Sam: Taco ate the turkey.

Brid: That is going to be one fat, sleepy chupacabra later.

Sam: If James lets him live.

Brid: Want me to bring a turkey?

Sam: You just have an extra one hanging about?

Brid: Werewolves, Sam. Of course we do.

Sam: <3

Sam: Brid is bringing a turkey. 

James: Forget turkey. I’m serving Taco.

Sam: Put the cleaver down, James.

James: Even if she speeds, we don’t have time.

James: Dinner will be very late.

James: Thanksgiving is ruined.

James: Unless you resurrect it?

Sam: No one wants a zombie turkey.

James: What if—

Sam: No. Brid is bringing a turkey and a deep fryer.

Sam: She says it’s faster. Dinner will be on time.

Sam: James?

Sam: James?!?

James: You are going to deep fry a turkey?

Sam: I’m mostly going to supervise.

James: I’m going to go check all of the fire extinguishers.

Sam: That would probably be for the best.