Well, it’s been an uphill battle being Jonny Cigar. I drew up my plans for Turkey Day, USA. 6am, wake up, or stay awake if haven’t gone to sleep. Buy train ticket, round-trip on Amcrack to Uncle Vinny’s farm (they do stop there). Creep into woods a find turkey, dead or alive. If alive, turn into dead. Catch 11am train back to city, with turkey. Find Mexican woman or child and pay in rubels to pluck bird, say the feathers will bring your family wealth and shout with fists raised and crazed look, “Ebonezer Scrooge.” Wink a hundred or so times. Arrive home 2pm. Brine turkey. Look up brine first, cross fingers in hopes that it has something to do with the giblets. Now, I like to take out all the innards and fill the turkey cavity with butter, pack it in. I also like to remove the meat, lather butter on the bones and stick the meat back on with whatever you got, ya know, duct tape or elmers’ and pop that turkey in the fire for about an hour, cuz you don’t wanna over-due it. Just enough time to melt all that bur blanc! Blamo! I call up Tony’s pizzeria, and they send over Lasagna, Tony’s daughter, and Lasagna carves the turkey and feeds me in bed. You should see the hair on her knuckles! I look at Lasagna and thank the Pope that I’m Jewish. She giggles when I say Pope. And after we smoke a pack of Virginia Slims we go cold turkey baby, and suck on them bones until Christmas Eve! And so it became! Say, I just thought of a poem:
Turkey on the horizon,
Plucked from my goiter,
A gizzard, a lizard, lickity-split
The bird down my pants,
Run away but you can’t,
The gravy in my ears, my mouth
Stopped to carve her breasts
I gave her 10 bucks and
Told her to gobble the muck.
She frowned and brown sugar-
Battered beer beats beat the
Stuffing down, boiled the yams,
Fried the cats, puréed the fats
Georgia on my mind my hips
Swayed like turkey thigh pies!
I may not have a thing at all, but I got lots of plans for tomorrow. Just you wait.
