All over America, the dead bodies of turkeys are roasting away in ovens. Sadly, my home is no exception. This year, due to my husband's disabling health issues and my mother's arthritis, the task of "preparing" the corpse fell to me. This involved separating the skin from the flesh and stabbing holes in the body in order to maximize the effect of the marinade.
Since this is an activity I do not wish to be asked to repeat, I decided to approach the distasteful task with a large dose of one of my favorite exhibitions - insanity. (I even put in my hearing aids so I could reap maximum benefit from the horror expressed by my family.)
As I separated the skin from the "meat," I commented at length about the ripping sound I was making with the extremely large, extremely sharp, knife my husband was now probably regretting having handed me. I talked about how cool it would be to make a Halloween mask out of vivisector skin, and if it would be possible to to make such a mask for an actual turkey to wear for Halloween, and also expressed interest in acquiring a turkey to be my superhero sidekick.
It was at this point that I had to make the hole in the "meat." I did so vigorously, while making Friday The 13th stabbing sound effects. Then, as I was rubbing the last of the marinade on the outside skin, I repeatedly muttered, "It puts the lotion on its skin."
Once I was done, I said that I was now considering becoming a serial killer in order to hone my technique. I also suggested that my husband and mother give me an enemies list to get me started.
By this point they were speechless, and sure to never give me such a task again, leaving me to make all the rice dishes and pies I can dream up. And everyone knows how strongly I feel about pie.
