HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!! FOUR GOBBLING STORIES FROM THE SEVEN GOLDEN SECRETS TO WRITING CLASS
Dear Readers:
On Wednesday, some of the students in the Seven Golden Secrets to Writing class insisted on writing turkey day stories – some from the point of view of the turkey! For your extreme entertainment, take a break on Thanksgiving and learn what a turkey feels like….
By Sean Rosenfeld, 8
Once upon a time, it was Thanksgiving afternoon. There was a hunter out and a turkey. The turkey was crossing the road and the hunter was going to a peaceful picnic, but he had a gun.
So anyway, the turkey was crossing the road and the hunter just turned a corner and didn’t see the turkey. But if he did, he would have hunted it. Thankfully, the turkey was able to cross the road. So you know how I told you the hunter had a gun? Well, he really did. The turkey was minding his own business when he ran into the picnic. The hunter said: “Good afternoon.” And then he looked back and thought: “Wait. That was a turkey.”
The turkey was on the ground laughing hysterically. The hunter had a grumpy look on his face. The turkey stopped laughing, looked at the hunter and screamed: “Ahhhhhhhhh!!!”
Pause right there. So you know how I told you it was Thanksgiving and well, the hunter decided he was looking for a turkey. Click, click, sounded the gun.
“Get ready to die,” the hunter told the turkey.
The turkey was so scared he charged at the hunter and the hunter fell off a cliff. Goodbye hunter.
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The Thanksgiving Ghost
I stared at my insides on the cutting board. How could they kill me for Thanksgiving?!? Why couldn’t they buy some tofu turkey? I sunk into the pot of water where I was being soaked after being salted.
I turned myself into a gas and sunk through the tiny crack between the top and pot. As soon as I located the knobs that control the stove, I got a running start to push the knob off. As I got closer and closer to the knob, I put my wings out in front of me and pushed.
Unfortunately, since I’m a ghost, my wings flew right through the knobs. Then I went racing toward the microwave yelling “ahhhhhh!” I was suddenly in the microwave sitting on top of some leftovers from last night. Corn and steak. Vurrrrummmmm, whirled the microwave.
Oh well, I guess I can never save myself. I poofed out of the kitchen and back to turkey heaven.
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By Veronica Gray, 12
Bang. The door closed. The farmer came out with his ax. All of the turkeys ran. I just stood there wondering why all of my family members ran away. My friend Melissa ran to me pulling my wing.
“Come on he will catch you,” she said.
“Catch me doing what? I felt very stupid after I asked that question.
“He will catch you, kill you and eat you for Thanksgiving,” she explained.
“That’s horrible!” I exclaimed. “We should start a union,” I stomped my right set of talons.
“A union against what? The farmer would just shoot us.” She hit my head.
Farmer Trevor walked by and all he heard were two turkeys going: “Gobble. Gobble.”
I marched to the other turkeys.
“Aren’t you tired of that!? I can’t believe that the farmer thinks that he can waltz right in here and snatch a turkey to eat. One of us!”
The other turkeys gobbled in agreement.
“So I propose to run away before he goes on the killing,” I added in my best leader voice.
We marched to the end of the farm only to find a gate.
“Dang-it!” I yelled. We treaded on the perimeter of the gate only to find that we were closed inside the farm.
“Well,” I put my wing on the turkey behind me. “May the best turkey live!”
I ran to hide from Farmer Trevor’s ax, leaving my union behind.
The Cat Who Hated Christmas, But Loves Thanksgiving
By Marina DuVernet, 9
One soggy Christmas, a cat sat inside a nice and hot house under the Christmas tree. That cat’s name was Frisky. Frisky hated Christmas.
First, he hated it because it was freezing. Second, he hated it because he was hungry. Third, he was hungry because his dumb owners always fed him only Uncle Bill’s cookies. Uncle Bill was a horrible chef.
What Frisky does love is Thanksgiving. Frisky can imagine nice, juicy turkey, bright red raspberries and his favorite cold milk. Wait…unless Uncle Bill cooks it. Well, after all, he did wind up cooking Thanksgiving dinner.
I guess Frisky likes Easter.
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