The Terror of Turkey Dinner.

Tarka:

She was terrified... her feet tied with rope and her wing bound behind her 
back... she was laying on a bloody board.... bit of her friends scattered 
around her.... she cryed as he heard the chef singing in the background. 
"Back thema nd stuff them and make them for dinner.... dinner... da dinner." 
 
Someone came over to her. "Hey Chef... the king wants a turkey to parden. Can 
I take this one with me?"
 
Vassily:
 
"You sure you want this one?" The chef poked her with the end of his cleaver. 
"A bit scrawny, eh?" The messenger gestured around the room. "It's the only 
live one you've got left. King wouldn't pardon me if I bring him a dead 
Turkey."
 
The chef scratched at his chin, the stubble rasping under his nails. "That 
must be why you aren't covered in entrails, Phil. Clear thinking like that. 
You want I should rough it up a bit?" The messnger put her hands on her hips 
and tilted her head. "To show people we're not soft on the Turkey Problem? 
Just give me the bird... And don't even do what I know you're thinking of." 
 
The chef looked down at the ground and scuffed his foot like a schoolboy. 
"Wasn't" He muttered.
 
WalksFar:
 
 "Don't kid me.  I turn my back and THWOOP!  Ya done it!"  She grabbed the 
turkey by a wattle and tugged.  "Come with me."  
 The turkey followed sullenly.
 
 "Dunno wot the king will want with a scrawny thing like you.  Not enough 
meat on the bones to make you even soft to the touch.  Look at those scraggly 
feathers.  Wot did you do?  Get in a fight with a vacuum cleaner?"
 
The turkey cocked it shead to one side.  The scene from two hours before 
paraded through its head and the maurading industrial Kirby that had gotten 
loose in the hen yard.  "As a matter of fact. . . ."
 
"Dun wanna hear it."  She led the bird to a coach and opened the door.  
"Inside!"
 
Tarka:
 
She couldn't understand what was going on. Only momments before she was been 
on the chopping block and probable miniute away from getting her head chopped 
off and her featured plucked... now she was in the kings couch and heading to 
the palice... her wings were still bound but she felt far to greatful that 
she was still alive to worry about that fact at the momment.
 
"Why... why am I being pardoned?"
 
"How should I know. he just thought that it was a good idea. Now shut up you 
fucking turkey. I hate your kind just like everyone else. Say another word 
and I will just have to find another turkey and the driver can eat you."
 
She sat in silance and shivered.... ten minutes later the couch came to a 
stop and she was roughly pushed out of the carrage into a side door of the 
palace. "Hey Jacub, clean this turkey up."
 
Vassily:
 
The turkey picked herself up out of the dust and grime of the road only to be 
knocked forward by a foot. "Move, you scum. There is time to lose." She 
staggered forward a few steps. "What?". Jacub looked a bit confused. "What 
did I say?" The turkey straightened up. "You said we had time to lose." Jacub 
smiled and shoved her forward again. "My mistake." He cleared his throat. "We 
have *no* time to lose. Happy?" She stumbled forward a few more steps. 
"Delighted."
 
WalksFar:
 
 "How we get you outa this mess is not easy.  How did you get so scraggly?"
 The Turkey started to speak thought better of it and said, "Long story."
"This way," Jacub said pushing a door open.  
 
The turkey stopped at the threshold looking into the dark interior when a 
foot connected with its arse.  "SQUAWK!"
 
 At the bottom of the stairs, three others grabbed the floundering bird and 
dunied it unceremoniously into a vat of water and suds.  First step, soak and 
clean in warm water.  Then a groom . . . if that was at all possible.
 
 Jacub dropped to the floor and watched the process.  "Try not to drown the 
dumb thing.  The king wants a live one to pardon.  It wouldn't do to present 
a dead one for the ceremony, would it?  No way in hell we'd get pardoned if 
that happened.  It's gotta look totally legit if possible.  Visitng dignatorie-
s and all.  You get the drift."
 
 One of the three grooms nodded.  "Gotcha.  One spiffy turkey all dressed and 
no place to go."
 
Terry:
 
They did their best, and the turkey was actually made fairly presentable... 
although they had to raid the costume shop for fake feathers to fill out her 
tail and wings, glued expertly into place. Soon, she and Jacub, and several 
other ne'er-do-wells, were escorted to the Great Hall by a cadre of solemn 
guardsmen.
 
"Is it true that the prey you serve us is all convicted criminals?" the 
white-feathered ambassador asked. His plate was still piled with slices of 
turkey flesh, only barely picked at, while the courtiers and king were busily 
stuffing their faces.
 
"Bah! Of course! All turkeys are criminals, more or less. But since we know 
how you feel, we'll pardon a Turkey for you. And while we're at it, a mass 
murderer and a traitor to the kingdom -- no sense keeping them in custody if 
we're letting a *Turkey* loose." The king scowled, and motioned to the guards 
to lead Jacub and the others forwards.
 
Then the king's eyes met the turkey's, and both of them froze in shock. 
"YOU!!!" the screamed, in unison.
 
Tarka:
 
The king got up from his seat and stared... "You filthy little beast! That 
was my most valuable kirby that you distroyed! How dare you come in here!" He 
kings fur was all buzzed out like any good cats.
 
The turkey, having already seen death more then once this day didn't back 
down. "Your the one that let it loose in the pen! What did you expect? you 
already put my entire flock to death! I'm the only one left!"
 
This mode of the converstation seemed to have an effect on the ambasdor... he 
cleared his throat. "your entire flock now?"
 
The king quickly sat down. "Pay the thing no heed. They are dumbe beasts... 
are are best left in the pot or alone."
 
Vassily:
 
"But the entire flock..." The ambassador's feather's ruffled.
 
"Were guilty of acts of terrorism against my Regime." The King growled. "If 
it weren't for your presence, I'd ..."
 
"You'd turn more vacuum cleaners loose on us. Or lawnmowers, or who knows 
what else." The turkey rambled. "Bicycles and baskets of apricots too."
 
WalksFar:
 
 "Is this all true?  They have loosed machines to indescriminantly kill all 
your kind?  The ambassador came over the table to stare the turkey in the 
face.  "Genocide?  They practice genocide?"
 
 "All my flock and countless others for their own pleasure and fat bellies!"  
The turkey pointed to the kings fat middle.  "Countless relatives have gone 
to make that!"
 
 At this point, the turkey had nothing else to lose.  It became evident it 
was to become dinner after the ambassador left.  Why not expose the whole 
nasty affair.  "They take our children and raise them in hen yards to feed 
their appetites, force us to breed to make more and more to satisfy their 
greed!"
 
 The ambassador stood, straight, head held high. His beak clacked, feathers 
fluffed in anger.  He pointed to the King.  "Is this what you planned for all 
birds?  To be fodder to your insatiable feline hungerr?"  He threw down his 
napkin and rose into the air on graceful wings.  SUHH!  This means WAAARR!"  
In the air around him rose his delegation. "Make for the frontier.  Order the 
seagull and pigeon bombers to the air.  Mobilize the roadrunner brigade and 
eagle dive bombers into the fray.  All Emu and Ostrich tanks to the borders.  
We will brunt this affrontery to firds everywhere!!"  With that the delegation-
 whirled over the heads of the shocked felines and crashed through a window 
and into the sky beyong.
 
Terry:
 
"My king!" cried a courtier, an exaggerated expression of worry on his 
whiskers, "Do you know what this means?"
 
The king sat back, looking very self-satisfied, and arched his fingers in 
front of him, grinning an evil toothy grin. "Yes. It means Christmas dinner 
will be delivered!"
 
"Oh, and take those... things away," he scowled, waving to the Turkey and 
Jacub and all. "They've served their purpose."