The Courtship of Humphrey Turkey

The Courtship of Humphrey Turkey

“Well, hello there, Humphrey Turkey. I was hoping I’d run into you.”



Oh, no. It’s Hugh Mann again. He’s so tiresome.



“Humphrey, my wife and I would love to invite you over for dinner.”



Yeah, like I’m falling for that one again. Last time, I thought we’d never get away. Petula almost didn’t, come to think of it.



“Tonight. Right now, in fact. My lovely Diana is cooking a beautiful big dinner. Humphrey, without you it just wouldn’t be the same.”



Maybe if I calmly turn and walk toward my house, he’ll leave me alone.



“Oh, come on, Humphrey Turkey. My house is warm and there will be wine and delicious food. I promise you wouldn’t leave before you were stuffed.”



“Gobble. Gobble gobble!” Please don’t push this, Hugh Mann. Don’t make me have to flap my wings and squawk at you.



“Calm down, Humphrey. It’s all right, really it is. We want to make it up to you for the last time. You know it was all a terrible mistake. I, ugh, I understand Petula’s wing feathers grew back nicely.”



Oh, yes, very nicely. She can’t fly any more, but why should that bother someone whose feet rarely leave the ground.



“I can see you edging away there, Humphrey. I can see you’re nervous. But don’t be. Look, I’ll level with you, man to turkey. My wife feels so bad about Petula’s feathers.”



As far as I remember, you were the one with the knife.



“I have to take you home with me or I’ll never hear the end of it. You can appreciate that, right? You know what it’s like to have your wife in your ear yap yap yapping all the time.”



My wife does not yap. She gobbles!



“So what do you say? You and Petula, our place. Beautiful dinner. Now. I believe my dear wife has even bought some of your favourite grain.”



Geez, this man doesn’t give up. I can tell I’m gonna have to commence with the pecking. Start low, work my way up.



“Hey, get off. Humphrey, you’re hurting me. Ouch, not my face. I love my face.”



This one is for Petula and her lost wing feathers.



“Get off me, dude. That’s it. I don’t want you for dinner. I don’t think you’d taste very nice, I mean, make very good company.”



Yeah. That’s right. Off you go, Mr. Mann. I do not wish to hear from you again.



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