by BobA. Troutt
*****
Leftover from the Holidays
A Thanksgiving Mystery
“Help, help, help!” sounded the cries from all over the little town of Long Hungry.
“What are we going to do?” cried one man as he ran out into the street waving his hands as the others ran around in circles crying for help.
The chaos was so bad it woke Mayor Spivey.
“What on earth is going on?” cried out the mayor as he jumped up and ran to the window. “What is it, my man? What on earth is wrong?”
“It’s gone, sir. “It’s gone,” he yelled. “What are we going to do?”
“What is gone?” asked the mayor.
“The gobble is gone, sir. The gobble is gone out of the turkey,” he cried.
“Oh, is that all,” replied the mayor.
“Is that all?” he screamed. “No gobble in the turkey is a disaster.”
The mayor hurriedly got ready.
“We have to call a town meeting,” he mumbled, “right now, right away.”
The news quickly spread throughout Long Hungry. As the city officers met behind closed doors, the town waited patiently outside to hear from the mayor what they were going to do. Thanksgiving was only two days away. They couldn’t have Thanksgiving turkey without the gobble. Anxiously, the people waited outside city hall. There were people of all ages; men, women and children, young and old, were whispering, wondering and talking amongst themselves about what they should do.
“What are we going to do?” yelled Councilman Jones. “We can’t cancel Thanksgiving, can we?”
“Oh, no,” mumbled some members, “we can’t do that.”
The others shrugged their shoulders and had puzzled looks on their faces.
“Does anyone have any idea what we can do?” asked Mayor Spivey.
The room fell quiet; you could hear a pin drop. Mayor Spivey eased over to the window and looked out at the worried faces of the townspeople. The crowd stood quietly, with little or no hope, and patiently waited for the council’s decision.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to cancel Thanksgiving,” said a shaky and weak little voice from across the room
The mayor and the other council members dropped their heads; all was silent again.
“Wait, I have it!” screamed the mayor as he ran back to his desk. “I have it,” he cried.
“What is it? What is it?” the council members asked as they jumped to their feet.
“We will hire Tom J. Turkey to investigate this Thanksgiving mystery,” shouted the Mayor.”
“Oh, is that it,” they said as they fell back down in their seats and started laughing.
“Are you kidding me?” yelled Councilman Smith. “That old turkey is too old. Besides we need someone who can jump right on it. It’s only two more days before Thanksgiving and we need an answer now.”
“Yeah, Mayor Spivey,” said Councilwoman Flynn.
“You may be right, Mr. Smith, but he’s been able to slip through all these years. He’s a pretty slick bird.”
“You’re right mayor,” spoke up another councilwoman.
“I think Tom J. Turkey is the one for the job. Shall we vote on it?” asked Mayor Spivey. “All in favor of Tom J. Turkey raise your hand,” instructed the mayor. “All opposed, say nay.” Bang went the gavel on the desk as Mayor Spivey yelled, “It is unanimous. Send the word for Tom J. Turkey to see me,” cried the Mayor.
Immediately, the call went out for Tom J. Turkey. It spread through the town like wild fire. When they found old Tom J. Turkey, he was asleep in his bed.
“Tom J. Turkey,” cried the little messenger boy, “the mayor wants to see you immediately.”
He slowly arose from his bed, stretched and sighed.
“Oh, me,” he mumbled as he smacked his lips.
Slowly, he picked up his glasses and carefully placed them on his face.
“Hurry, hurry, Tom J. Turkey, it’s an emergency!” cried the messenger.
“Now, now, now, my boy, what seems to be the problem? It can’t be that bad,” replied Tom J. Turkey.
“The mayor wants to see you now. The gobble is gone out of the turkey and the council is thinking about canceling Thanksgiving.”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” laughed old Tom J. Turkey. “You have to be pulling my drumstick. The gobble can’t be gone out of the turkey. Foolish men,” he laughed.
“But, Tom, if we don’t have the gobble in the turkey we can’t have Thanksgiving.”
Tom’s smile quickly dropped to a frown. His laugh became a loud scream.
“Oh, no!” he screamed.
Quickly, he jumped into his clothes and ran out the door. He rushed across town and pressed his way through the cheering crowd.
“Go, Tom, go. Go, Tom, go. Hurray,” they cried at their hero.
He made his way into city hall. Tired and out of breath, he leaned on the mayor’s door; he was exhausted. Without warning, the door flew open and Tom J. Turkey fell into the mayor’s office. His glasses flew across the room when he fell flat on his face. The council members and Mayor Spivey jumped to their feet and rushed over to help him. The mayor picked up Tom’s glasses and handed them to him as he was picking himself up off the floor.
“Glad you could drop in, Tom J. Turkey,” said the mayor. “We have a severe problem.”
Clumsily, Tom J. Turkey tried to place his glasses on his face, but he kept dropping them.
“Phooey,” he said as he shoved them into his pocket. “Now, mayor, what is this I hear about Thanksgiving being canceled?” Tom J. Turkey asked.
The mayor and the council members explained everything to Tom J. Turkey.
“I’ll take care of it,” Tom J. Turkey said.
“We don’t have much time, Tom J. Turkey,” said the mayor. “We need to get this solved quickly.”
“I’ll take care of it,” replied Tom.
Now I need a disguise, he thought, so I can go undercover and investigate this matter.
Hurriedly, Tom went home and dug through an old trunk of clothes, shoes and other things.
“Here we go,” said Tom. “This old Halloween chicken suit will do just fine. I’ll show those young turkeys a thing or two,” he laughed as he put on the chicken suit.
It wasn’t long before old Tom J. Turkey was sticking his head up here and there at the hungry looking farm crowd. He tried listening for a gobble from the other turkeys. He tried questioning them about what had happened to the gobble. But, every time he got close to them, they would walk away or just stand there and look at him with a long, sad face. He searched and searched about the barnyard. He asked questions, but got no answers. He looked in nests, bushes and treetops for the gobble. Unfortunately, he could not find it anywhere.
“Where could it be?” Tom mumbled. “Where has it gone? Why can’t I find it?” he screamed.
The other turkeys whispered amongst themselves and giggled at the sight of old Tom J. Turkey. The chickens and hens got mad and sulked up at him. But, one old hen went cluck, cluck, cluck in his face.
“There will be no fowl language around here,” Tom J. Turkey said as he shook his head at her.
The day passed on and Tom’s endless search ended in a day of hopeless despair. Whatever happened to the days when birds of a feather flocked together? he thought to himself.
Back at city hall, the mayor and council members waited patiently to hear from Tom. But, they heard not a word. They were worried he wouldn’t be able to find the gobble and Thanksgiving would have to be canceled.
“If we don’t hear something by tomorrow at noon, we’ll have no choice but to cancel Thanksgiving,” stated Mayor Spivey.
The people all went back to their homes and waited. Tom J. Turkey worked all through the night trying to find the gobble. He even went as far as to hire an informant, but he still didn’t come up with anything. What am I going to do? he said to himself. The mayor and the whole town are count
ing on me.
As he sat there on a block of wood with tear filled eyes, his head fell into his hands; he cried himself to sleep.
“Cock-a-doodle-do,” cried the old rooster as old Tom’s eyes slowly opened.
“Good grief,” he yelled as he jumped to his feet and flew across the barnyard. “Hey, Jo Turkey,” he yelled.
“What’s going on, chicken?” asked Jo.
“Oh, nothing,” he cackled.
“What’s the deal about the gobble?” asked Tom J. Turkey.
“I don’t know,” replied Jo. “I heard it left town.”
“Left town,” replied Tom J. Turkey. “Where did it go?”
“Over yonder,” Jo replied.
Tom J. Turkey bent over and whispered something in Jo’s ear and slipped him a five-dollar bill. Jo smiled real big and nodded his head yes.
“Thanks, Jo,” squawked Tom J. Turkey as he rushed over yonder.
“What a turkey,” laughed Jo. “That will cook his goose. Hey, guys,” yelled Jo to the other turkeys, “Can you imagine how Tom J. Turkey is going to feel when he finds out we have all been playing possum and holding back our gobble to stay alive at Thanksgiving.”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” they all laughed.
While Tom J. Turkey searched the hills and hollows for the gobble he cried out, “Gobble, gobble, gobble.”
But, there was no answer.
“Gobble, gobble, gobble,” he went again.
He stopped gobbling and listened for a moment. But, there was still no gobble to be heard. The time quickly passed as Tom J. Turkey wandered about the hills and hollows searching for the missing gobble. As he searched, he got turned around and ended up lost.
Meanwhile, back at City Hall, Mayor Spivey and the townspeople waited nervously to hear from Tom J. Turkey. But, he never showed. So, the mayor had to address the townspeople.
“Friends of Long Hungry, we can’t wait any longer,” stated the mayor. “After careful consideration, the council and I have decided to cancel Thanksgiving this year because of the missing gobble.”
A hush fell over the crowd as heads dropped and tears filled everyone’s eyes. Then suddenly out of the clear blue sky, the voice of a small child cried out from the crowd.
“Why don’t we eat chicken instead?”
Quickly, everyone looked at each other. They started whispering and gibbering.
“Why, chicken for Thanksgiving!” yelled a man. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”
“Yeah, no chicken,” cried another.
As the mayor tried to calm the crowd, he looked over at the council. They just nodded their heads.
“Why not, it’s better than no Thanksgiving at all.”
The mayor agreed and declared that everyone would eat chicken for Thanksgiving.
“Thanksgiving will not be canceled!” shouted Mayor Spivey.
“Hurray,” yelled the crowd as they headed home.
Finally, Thanksgiving Day came to the little town of Long Hungry. Families and friends gathered together in their homes to eat dinner and have fun. Everyone was happy and they didn’t mind having chicken instead of turkey.
But the story of all stories is told throughout Long Hungry even to this day. That Thanksgiving Day before Mayor Spivey carved the chicken, he told his family the story of how the chicken ended up on the table. He told them while he was hunting in the hills and hollows over yonder, he saw the biggest chicken he had ever seen wandering around the woods. He knew that day nothing would stop him from having that chicken on his table. As they all gathered around and gave thanks around the big chicken, Mayor Spivey sliced the bird and tasted it.
“Huh!” he said with a puzzled look. “It tastes like turkey, but it can’t be.”
He just laughed to himself and continued eating. As they sat around eating, laughing and giving thanks, Mayor Spivey spoke up.
“You know, I wonder whatever happened to old Tom J. Turkey,” he said. “I haven’t seen him lately.” He took a big bite of the chicken leg and said, “It’s a tough old bird, isn’t it.”
Tom J. Turkey was stooped down outside the mayor’s kitchen window laughing; he had heard everything the mayor said.
“I knew I could trick old Jo Turkey into wearing that chicken suit,” he laughed. “His goose is cooked now.”
Later that evening, right before the sun set across Long Hungry, you could hear the soft sounds of gobble, gobble, gobble.
