The Turkey Trot

Ok. I just got back from my search for a turkey. As I share my adventure, I have placed the turkey in the tub to thaw as I have dishes in the sink. Earlier, I mentioned that I was going to Trader Joe's. Out the door I went walking with my functional shopping cart proudly toward my destination. Instead of going up the ramp, I just lifted it up the five steps to the entrance. I looked for a place to park my cart. Nothing of the likes existed. So, I forged ahead. As I perused the aisles of the crowed market, I noticed no one had their personal shopping carts. They glided through the aisles in the pristine carts provided by Trader Joe’s.  I started to feel out of place with the sneers, but I didn’t care. I was in search of my turkey.

Alas, I saw it; Trader Joe’s organic, farm raised turkeys, one piled up on the other. Now, it was time to search for the smallest one. No such luck. All the available turkeys were between 15 and 16 pounds. I reached toward the back and came across a 15.96 lbs. turkey. Oh well, I guess I was going to be forced to have a carcass sitting in my refrigerator for weeks. Flipping it around, I found the price. “$36.95! You’ve got to be shitting me.” For $36.95, I want to know where my turkey came from, who were his parents, who were his friends, about the farm, if my turkey had a good education and a good home. Was my turkey in AP classes or in an IB program? Was my turkey at least college bound? For that amount, I wanted a full lineage from Bottom line, I wanted to know if my God-forsaken turkey was precious if I was going to spend a fortune on this annual, aviary delicacy. I put my turkey decision on the back burner as I shopped for the Thanksgiving dinner accoutrements.

The sneers continued, but like I said, I didn’t care. I’m just not one for keeping up with the Joneses. I stopped by the tasting station for a sampling of creamed kale. Sorry, but there are some shrubs you don’t eat unless your life depends on it and this was not in the least bit comforting. Everything was ridiculously expensive. Sixteen ounces of organic milk for $2.99. You know what? I’ll take my chances. The only cost effective product in the entire store was dog food. Go figure. Something was not right. I made an immediate decision. “You can take your sneers and turkeys and shove them up your arse. I’m outta hear.”

I had already walked 1.2 miles. There was not a single, cancer, pesticide or chemically modified grocery store product provider in sight. Perhaps, if I walked along Woodhaven toward Queens Blvd. where the poor and gastronomically challenged and doomed residents live, I would find a suitable grocery store that met my financial means. After about a 1 ½ miles, I came across one. For $66.00, I got all I needed and properly priced expensive dog food. We will probably all die on Black Friday, but, but I will have eaten a delicious meal knowing that my mistreated, abandoned, cancer ridden, abused turkey awaits for me in Heaven. Happily ever after, I left for my 2 mile walk home.  Happy Thanksgiving folks.

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