Where have all the Turkeys gone?
It's a cold weekend. Bitter cold. The London fall has already extended its grasp, with the trees first to feel its effects. Leaves of orange and brown decorate the streets like a dull fire.
We see a young man, alone, and in his early twenties. He's wearing the grey hooded sweatshirt of his almamater, with the purple letters "UWO" clearly visible. The hood is pulled up, while his hands are in his pockets; he's trying to stay warm in the windy streets.
As we approach this boy, we see his eyes. He's bothered, saddened. He appears to be looking for something, but doesn't know where to begin. As he walks along this cold, windy street, few cars pass by- most are at home with their loved ones.
Not him, however. With his mother in South Carolina, and his father vacationing in Europe, this boy is alone.
Yes, its a sad sight: a college student, with no Turkey.
He finds his way to the local grocery store, hoping to procure his own bounty. He stands alone infront of the Turkeys. He reads of "internal temperatures", and "cooking directions", and "turkey baisters".....he doesn't understand. He's a helpless male, in the large, scary world of cooking.
He decides to wait a while, infront of the Turkey display, with a sad look on his face. He's wanting- hoping- for a nice woman to come along and notice his expression. She would then, he dares to dream, offer to take him home, and cook for him one of these noble animals. Alas...that woman never comes.
Yes....the boy in the story is I. This thanksgiving, I was alone...all alone...with no....no...*uncontrollable sobbing*.....no Turkey....
Don't cry for me....I'm already dead.
*sniffle*
We see a young man, alone, and in his early twenties. He's wearing the grey hooded sweatshirt of his almamater, with the purple letters "UWO" clearly visible. The hood is pulled up, while his hands are in his pockets; he's trying to stay warm in the windy streets.
As we approach this boy, we see his eyes. He's bothered, saddened. He appears to be looking for something, but doesn't know where to begin. As he walks along this cold, windy street, few cars pass by- most are at home with their loved ones.
Not him, however. With his mother in South Carolina, and his father vacationing in Europe, this boy is alone.
Yes, its a sad sight: a college student, with no Turkey.
He finds his way to the local grocery store, hoping to procure his own bounty. He stands alone infront of the Turkeys. He reads of "internal temperatures", and "cooking directions", and "turkey baisters".....he doesn't understand. He's a helpless male, in the large, scary world of cooking.
He decides to wait a while, infront of the Turkey display, with a sad look on his face. He's wanting- hoping- for a nice woman to come along and notice his expression. She would then, he dares to dream, offer to take him home, and cook for him one of these noble animals. Alas...that woman never comes.
Yes....the boy in the story is I. This thanksgiving, I was alone...all alone...with no....no...*uncontrollable sobbing*.....no Turkey....
Don't cry for me....I'm already dead.
*sniffle*