I was a dreamer from a young age.
A wide-eyed poult who dreamed of making it big. Maybe get the lead role in one of those prestigious Thanksgiving Pageants?
Maybe even become a tour guide at a famous national museum of some kind. You know, Benjamin Franklin fought for the turkey as the national bird. He won in my eyes. Darn those arrogant eagles.
It wasn't long before Uncle Harv let me in on the truth of my sad little existence...
I don't like to talk about it...
Unfortunately, there is no escaping cold, hard reality, or in my case, steaming, fried reality. (That was a lot of commas in one sentence...)
In actuality, the true travesty in this picture has more to do with fashion than poultry humanity...
But anyway...
Enter Grant Tanner:
He seemed like a nice guy when we met. He even got a few pictures with me!
I thought maybe he recognized my true talent. Perhaps my entertaining days were just around the corner!
I quickly learned his true, hungry intentions.
Ouch.
It's like he had done this before...
And dare I say... he enjoyed it?!
Nothing in all my poulthood experience could have prepared me for this...
Oh the humanity!
This is the moment I thought Mr. Grantie recognized his true error. The vegan inside was surfacing for the first time in his ravenously carnivorous life, and met face to face with the stark reality of his inhumanity, he would see the error of his ways and let out an apologetic gobble.
The contemplation...
You can do it Mr. Grantie! Give it up!
And the betrayal!
And heaven forbid he stop there!
Oh to be young and feel love's keen sting!
Alas, is there no hope for humankind? Or rather, Texaskind?!
Endnote: Sorry... I honestly have no idea where this post came from... Blame it on reading children's Halloween books at Barnes & Noble yesterday...
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