The turkey shot out of the oven and rocketed into the air.
It knocked every plate off the table and partly demolished a
chair.
It ricocheted into a corner and burst with a deafening boom,
Then splattered all over the kitchen, completely obscuring
the room.
It stuck to the walls and windows. It totally coated the
floor.
There was turkey attached to the ceiling, where there’d
never been turkey before.
It blanketed every appliance. It smeared every saucer and
bowl.
There wasn’t a way I could stop it. That turkey was out of
control.
I scraped and I scrubbed with displeasure, and thought with
chagrin as I mopped,
That I’d never again stuff a turkey with popcorn that hadn’t
been popped.
-
Jack Prelutzky
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