Turkey

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
The time when i had to cook a turkey, tend to a barfing sister, and bring my brother pants.

Submitted: October 23, 2009

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Submitted: October 23, 2009

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Turkey
Background information:
As I remember it, that morning I slept in and then read for around an hour. (A typical weekend morning) This would be no typical day. A week prior my dad had broken his wrist by hitting a speed bump on his bike while competing in the Waukee Amazing Bicycle Race. After some confusion with the doctors, he was scheduled at the last minute to have surgery. Today. Our church dinner was in two days, so my mom had volunteered to cook a turkey to be served there. My brother was signed up to go to an all day show choir camp through our school. My sister was going to have a day-long play date with her friend from preschool, Abby. The doctors said that someone would have to drive my dad to the hospital, stay there during the surgery, and drive him home. Since I cannot drive, my mom took him. Because my mom was going to be gone, I landed the job of cooking the turkey. 
. . .
I groggily dragged myself down the stairs in my pajamas. My eyes were still drooping and my hair was a tangled lion’s mane. As I walked into the kitchen to have breakfast, I saw a gross, strong smelling, uncooked turkey sitting on the counter. I immediately lost my appetite. I thought why in the world would there be a turkey sitting on our kitchen counter? Thanksgiving is weeks away!  Mom said, “Oh, Maggie, would you cook that turkey for me while I’m gone? It won’t be hard. I’ll tell you how.” I didn’t have any other choice, so I reluctantly agreed.
When my dad saw me, he asked me to lift the turkey into the oven because of his shattered wrist. After a bit of heaving, I managed to lift it using all my strength. After the turkey was in the oven, I brushed my sister’s dark blond hair and helped her into a coat. She said she wasn’t feeling good, but my mom drove her to the play date any way. Fifteen minutes later, her friend’s parents called and said that my sister had just thrown up. Terrific! My mom and dad brought her home when they took my brother to his show choir camp. Now I was stuck cooking a turkey while taking care of a sick, five year old girl.
My mom and dad left for the surgery and everything was fine. My sister and I watched TV and played dress-up. The phone rang and I dashed in to pick it up. “Hello, Dressel residence,” I said.
“Hi, it’s Mom. How’s it going?”
“Great,” I replied truthfully, “we played dress-up and Kate hasn’t thrown up.”
 “Okay, I need you to take out the giblet bag.” Mom told me. What the heck is a giblet bag? What do I have to take it out of? Then it dawned on me. The turkey. Gross!
“Take the turkey out of the oven and reach in between the legs to pull out the giblet bag. Then you throw it away and put the turkey back in the oven. I’ll handle taking the turkey out when we get home.” Mom rapidly dictated.
“First, what is a giblet bag?” I asked.
“Oh, a giblet bag is a bag of organ meats, like the heart and liver,” Mom answered.
“Okay,” I said. I pulled open the oven door and lifted the corpse colored turkey out of the oven. I reached into the slimy thing between its legs and grasped the bag and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. I pulled and pulled and pulled from every angle possible to no avail.
My mom, who had stayed on the phone during all of this, said “Why don’t you try pulling from out the neck?” Ewe, I’ll have to reach into that disgusting, slimy thing with my whole arm to reach that little bag, gross! I gritted my teeth and plunged my hand in and surfaced holding the little devil. 
“Did you get it out?”
“Yes, Mom, I did retrieve the nasty little bag.”
“Good, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Oh, the irony! Mom I’ve been working on this for a solid fifteen minutes, and you think it was easy. Oh well…
 As I was chatting with my mom, I went in to check on my sister who was lying on the couch. As, I walked over, she started throwing up!
“Mom, I gotta go, Kate’s spewing chunks.” Lovely. Luckily, there was a garbage can there, so I didn’t have to clean up much. I stuck my sister in the bath and had her brush her teeth.
 While she was in the bath my brother called. “Maggie, can you bike up a pair of my jeans? I need them for my show choir performance. We were given T- shirts to go with the jeans, but I don’t have any jeans here.”
“I’m sorry, Peter, Kate just threw up, I can’t leave.”
“Nice, just call Mom or something. Bye.” I called my mom. She couldn’t leave, so she called our friends from down the street. Meanwhile, I could not find a pair of my brother’s jeans anywhere. I overturned his drawers. I searched in the clean laundry, flinging laundry out of the baskets in my frantic search. I also dug through his smelly dirty laundry pile. Ewe! Finally, I opened up the drier and found two pairs just sitting there. Just my luck! I quickly stuck them in a plastic bag and handed them to my brother’s friend, Richie the neighbor boy, who was impatiently waiting by the back door. My sister was starting to look like a shriveled prune, so I took her out of the bath. I ate some pizza rolls and watched some more TV while my sister curled up asleep on the couch. I put a blanket on her and went to call my mom.
My mom’s voice was cheery when she answered, “Hi honey, Dad’s out of surgery!”
“Great, when will you guys be home?” I hope it will be soon, because I don’t want to clean up any more of Kate’s vomit.
“I don’t know, probably an hour or so.” I’ll cross my fingers and hope for the best.
Crossing your fingers jinxes your chances, so of course Kate threw up again. This time there was no garbage can. Oh, crap. I called my mom again. She said, “We’re coming home soon; don’t worry.” I laid down some paper towels to soak the mess on the couch up.
My mom and dad arrived home safely and my sister didn’t throw up any more that day.  We had all missed my brother’s performance, but it had been taped by a friend. The turkey turned out delicious, and we all said it was the best turkey we had ever had.


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