Half-Baked Turkey
Raga, Age 10, Plano, TX

Waking up early one morning, I winced as the sun shined blazingly into my eyes. Trudging down the stairs, I incessantly yawned. Right then, the aroma of fresh baked turkey greeted my nose.

I had forgotten to brush my teeth, so I climbed up the stairs again. After brushing, I lumbered down the stairs like a fatigued man who had just finished hiking the summit of a mountain. Crookedly seated at the table, I dreamed of eating the hot, juicy delicacy. Noticing that there were only twenty more seconds till the turkey was cooked, my mouth watered continuously. Just then, the oven’s timer rang as everyone eagerly waited to carve the turkey. Taking it in the kitchen, my mother served it on a steel pedestal. Gently placing it on the table, she opened the lid with tender hands.

When my father turned the turkey to see if it was well baked, I observed that half of the turkey had feathers and the other half was baked! The next thing I knew was that the turkey jumped up and snapped its beak at us as if to say “BACK OFF!” Just then, I showered the cuckoo turkey with a bag full of corn. It froze like a stone and fell off the front porch. Picking it up with plastic gloves, my dad threw it in the trash can. Relieved that the feather ball didn’t harm anyone, I quietly tiptoed upstairs and rummaged through the internet for a half-baked turkey. Then, I learned that this incident was actually a disease that only happens to turkeys.

When I explained what happened to the turkey to my parents, they finally understood what happened to the poor bird. I planned that for next Thanksgiving, we should eat mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie.

I hope you had a great Thanksgiving!

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