It's the day before Thanksgiving, the worst day to be a turkey. Currently, I'm working part-time at the Foraker Farm in Palmer. The people are nice. My job is to take care of the turkeys and get them fattened up for Thanksgiving. Now, that, normally, shouldn't be a big deal. However, I have bonded with this turkey that I named Giblet. Tomorrow, I imagine myself in the middle of a decorated Thanksgiving table, white booties covering my feet and stuffed with pieces of bread. Why would anyone want to eat a beautiful turkey like me? My body is perfectly round from visiting the trough so many t…
