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Talking Turkey: Poetry Edition

, , , , | Related | CREDIT: Daniel | December 23, 2020

It’s Christmas, so I’m going to write a little differently, and have every sentence in this post be in rhyme:


My dad and our family liked meat a lot, but my entitled aunt, who shall be called EA here, did not.

EA was a vegan, a plant lover, see. Any animal-based product was pure tragedy.


At no other point did she make herself clear than on Christmas Eve on the 2005th year.

My dad always held a large dinner party, our relatives ranging from bitter to hearty.


He always loved meat, whether pork, beef, or jerky, and always took pride in his Christmas turkey.

At the time, I was still a small boy, admiring my cousins’ new Hot Wheel toys.


We were watching Rudolph when all of a sudden, I heard a loud scream that could curdle one’s blood in.

We rushed to the kitchen, and there was my dad, yelling at EA, furiously mad.


Due to fuzzy memory, the quotes aren’t exact, but I fully remember the tone and the tact.

Dad: “What’s this balderdash!? Why did you put my turkey in the trash?!”


EA: *Quipped* “I threw animal cruelty away! Why must you do this before Christmas Day?!”

Dad: *Barked* “I made you a salad, you shrew! Just because you’re vegan doesn’t mean we must be, too!”


EA: *Just yelling* “You should be ashamed! Don’t you know how these turkeys were maimed?!”

Dad: “I don’t give a darn what you eat! You keep your plants, and I’ll keep my meat!”


Dad: “If you don’t like it, get out of my house!”

EA grabbed her kids, who were quiet as a mouse.


She then whispered in her huffy stroll:

EA: “Don’t worry, kids. Meat eaters get coal.”


I started crying because of the yelling, but my grandma soothed me in her voice so compelling.

We ended up ordering pizza that night. Other than the turkey, things turned out all right.


EA still came every Christmas since then, but kept her mouth shut about being vegan.

I think she especially became less of a brat when Animal Control took her “vegan” cat.


She didn’t stop us from having our Christmas feast,

And he, he himself, her son, carved the roast beast.

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