Metamorphosis

Morning, Brian, how was your weekend?

It was a strange one Fred, to be honest. I think Thanksgiving’s been praying on my mind.

How so?

We visited a turkey farm on Saturday, the kids burst into tears when I told them we were there to select a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.

Yeah, it’s a concept kids have to wrestle with. So did you pick one?

What else could I do? It wasn’t as if i could not choose one, is it? But this one sucker wouldn’t stop looking me in the eye. It was as if it knew we were planning on killing it and eating it.

It was your guilty conscience mate. It’s understandable, after all we do have feelings. Means we’re human.

I have felt weird ever since.

Now that you mention it, you don’t seem to be quite yourself.

I know. My skin’s gone goose pimply and my neck is getting a bit like my old grans. She used to complain about her wattle neck. What do you think, Fred, is this new?

It’s definitely that turkey, mate, it’s jinxed you.

Don’t even joke about it.

What are you doing, Brian? Why are you rearranging your desk?

Nesting, Fred. I need to make space for my feathers.

Let me make you a coffee. Just sit for a while.

Cluck! Woops! Did I actually say that?

Coffee?

No thanks, Fred. Got any seed?

I really think you should take the rest of the day off, Brian.

You’re probably right, but I’ve got to finish typing up this report before the boss gets in.

Good luck typing with those claws.

Claws? Holy Moly! You are right!

Brian! Go take a look in the mirror. Your mouth is turning very beak like.

Oh no. I am beakening now? Gobble gobble gobble?

Sorry Bri, I can’t understand you. Get it? You’re talking turkey.

Gobble! gobble! gobble!

Now you are really talking Gobbledygook. Best fly off home. Hahaha.