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SEATTLE, Washington -- Local couple, Barry and Dana Johnson, their baby, dog, and Barry's mother, Avigail, heave a collective sigh of relief that the holiday season is finally over.
"I didn't think we'd make it this year, what with the holidays themselves, the bills afterward, and that giant <expletive> turkey." said Barry at a news conference attended by their neighbors in the Johnson's backyard.
"Barry has put on about thirty pounds, and he wasn't all that trim to begin with. It's not all his fault; I'm partly to blame." admits his wife, Dana. "Since my mother passed away last summer, it was up to me to put on the best <expletive> Christmas-slash-Hanukkah dinner ever. We had to renovate the kitchen, as our old stove simply wasn't large enough to accommodate the turkey."
The bird, from local distributor Farmer Hanford's All-Natural Free-Range Turkey Farms and Industrial Waste Storage Inc., weighed in excess of seventy pounds and possessed attributes not normally associated with turkey, or Meleagris gallopavo, free-range or otherwise.
"It was an odd shade of green and it had a bunch of extra limbs, including a pair of furry claws. I thought that these oddities would liven up the generally forced and dreary conversation around the dinner table, but the free-flowing liquor pretty much reduced the chit-chat to slurs...mostly slurs in Yiddish since Barry's mother is not happy with the fact that come hell or high water, I'm not converting. I have to spend too much time with her as it is, but I'll <expletive> kill that bitch if we end up spending more time together at her synagogue. The church is the only place I have where she can't bother me...it's my 'me time', damn it!" said Dana through clenched teeth.
"I helped pitch in with the cooking after Dana proved, as with her other duties as a baleboste, unable to handle even the comparatively easy task of creating a simple seven course dinner for the mischpoche." said the matriarch of the family, Barry's mother Avigail, "I wasn't too sure about the indik; I don't remember them glowing in the dark or fizzing when I was a little meidl. But it came with stuffing already inside, and the asshole whispered its own preparation instructions, which was nice. That probably helped me to endure eating the wretched bird rather than the nice grayish oozing Gefilte Feish that I brought, but Dana conveniently 'forgot' to serve."
"I took it as a good sign that the pack inside included a couple of hearts and a foot-long neck, 'cause they're good for soup stock and 'the more the merrier', I say." she continued. "But it was simply too much bird for too few people and both of the hearts wouldn't stop beating. Hanukkah was months ago now, and we've only just finished the meal. My son hasn't been able to button his pants since the end of December. I told him over and over again. I told him 'Barry!' and he said 'What?', in a most disrepectful tone. I told him 'Barry, don't use that tone with me, young man!'. Then I said 'That no good shikse of yours will only cause you tsures!'. But does he listen to his mother? I should be so lucky! What was that meshugene thinking when she bought that bird? What's wrong with a nice chicken soup? I thank God everyday that his father isn't alive to see this. He'd drop dead."
Barry, the family's resident turkey-lover, agrees with his mother's assessment, "Don't get me wrong, it was delicious. Earthy with a hint of almonds and wassabi. But it was too much of a good thing. If I never see another quivering blob of cranberry sauce it'll be too soon. After the first month of leftovers I started sneaking the meat off my plate to feed the dog. After the second it left the plate all by itself. Buttons wouldn't go near it after she got the squirts from eating nothing but glowing, throbbing turkey for a week. The rest of us, meanwhile, haven't had a bowel moment since the middle of January. I have to read the morning paper at the dining room table now, which isn't nearly as satisfying."
"Watch your step back here." Barry intoned as their neighbors, frightened by the testimony at the press conference, began to move away from the Johnson family, farther into the backyard, "It's pretty safe at night, but during the day you can't see the glowing poop until you've already stepped in it, and it eats through leather like a son of a bitch."
Buttons, cowering behind the living room couch, refused to comment.
"I'm starting a new tradition; Christmas pizza." closed Dana.
"Hanukkah pizza. With eight slices, maybe?" countered Avigail with a frown and a shrug.
"I'm just glad that our block won't have to go through this again for months." said one neighbor when safely away from the Johnson family, "Heck, I scare my kids into going to bed on time by threatening to send them to the Johnson's for their god-awful Easter-slash-Passover celebrations. When is Easter this year, anyway? Passover starts at nightfall on April the secon...oh...shit... Kids! Pack the car! Quick! Don't ask questions, just do it!"
|This article features first-hand journalism by an UnNews correspondent.|