Return Of The Poultrygeist

It was the night before Thanksgiving and the wife and I had just settled into bed. Shortly after dozing off, I heard a rustling in the kitchen. "Must be the cats," I thought to myself…but then the refrigerator started making some loud, bizarre noises. I quietly got up so as not to disturb anyone and tip-toed out into the kitchen. To my horror, I saw the turkey baster and a few other utensils flying through the air–dancing in a circle above the kitchen table. Against my better judgement, I opened the refrigerator door to cast eyes upon the source of the disturbance…

What I saw defied logic, but there it was: It was a horrid landscape–a boiling sea of cranberry sauce with the bones of a thousand turkeys bobbing in it. Potato salad chunks fell from the sky like hail, and then it emerged through the purple fog–the poultrygeist itself! The Thanksgiving turkey had become possessed and hurled itself at me, but I slammed the fridge door just in time. I woke up the wife and kids and we high-tailed it into the car. We drove to her mother's house where we spent the night, barely speaking a word to each other of the spectacle we had just witnessed. Our family ate Thanksgiving dinner at Golden Corral that year…needless to say, we never returned to that house.