A Thanksgiving Switcheroo

“Dude, I’m telling you, it’s, like, the best honor. The holiday is all about us, dude.”

“Yeah, it sounds interesting. We chickens don’t really get our own holiday. The name’s Stan, by the way.”

“Right, right, Stan. So as I was saying, dude, Thanksgiving is, like, the holiday for us turkeys. I mean, a lot of people even call it Turkey Day. It’s totally nuts. So I was thinking to myself, Thomas, aren’t you being selfish not sharing this amazing holiday with your other feathered friends? And I’ve totally been selfish, dude! That’s why I’m over here in your neck of the farm. I tried talking to Gertrude about this opportunity earlier, but she was all, like, ‘I don’t have time for this nonsense. I’ve got eggs to lay.’ Hens have no vision, dude.”

“Uh, yeah. Again, my name is Stan. It all sounds very exciting, and I have to admit that being the center of attention would be nice for a change. We chickens kind of get pushed around a lot and never really thanked for all that we provide.”

“That’s what I’m saying, dude!”

“Stan.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Stan. It’s your time to shine! Imagine, this Thanksgiving, you’re the one being cheered, adored, hailed as the great center of the feast.”

“Wow, that would be great—whoa, wait! What do you mean center of the feast?”

“Well, the humans kill you, stuff you, and then roast you for their Thanksgiving dinner. But don’t get hung up on details, dude. It’s a minor aspect of the overall celebration.”

“Minor aspect? You said before that the turkeys are the center of the holiday. Seems you forgot to add that they’re dead and unable to enjoy the festivities themselves! And you’re attempting to have me take your place for this celebration of death? I’m no idiot!”

“Dude, calm down. You’re, like, losing sight of the bigger picture, dude, and that shining moment when you’re chosen.”

“It’s Stan! My name is Stan! And if you’re talking about that shining moment when the farmer picks me to chop off my head and use me for dinner, I think I’ll pass. Being selfish, my ass. You were trying to trick me, Thomas!”

“Du—Stan, that was so not my intention. I mean, we’ve all gotta go sometime, right? And if we’re gonna wind up on the table either way, then why not at least be the star for once? Know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I guess I see where you’re coming from. But I still—wait, is that gate open? Did the farmer leave the gate wide open before he left for town?”

“Oh my god, dude! He did!”

“Know what I’m thinking, Thomas?”

“What, dude? Uh, Stan?”

“I’m thinking there’s a sanctuary for farm animals up the road where we could live out our lives in peace and quiet and never have to worry about another Thanksgiving ever again.”

“I’m totally with you, dude! Let’s roll!”


Word count: 494