The Plumpest Turkeys in the Land
Issue 7, Volume 113
Ah, Turkey Day. Its position on our calendar is inauspicious, sandwiched between some real end-of-year juggernauts—Halloween on one side, and Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever your preferred late-December holiday is on the other. For this reason, most sadly choose not to give the Day of Turkeys the time of day it deserves, instead letting Thanksgiving pass without fanfare and only using it as an excuse to voraciously consume those three cans of cranberry sauce that wait so patiently in the back of their cupboard year-round. However, there still are a few loyal so-called “turkey enthusiasts” that keep the spirit of the Giving of Thanks alive, mainly by cramming as much material into a dead animal’s carcass as they possibly can, before proceeding to consume it. This article is a celebration of these beautiful individuals’ equally-beautiful turkey-stuffing practices.
Stuffing #1: Whipped Cream, and a Lot of It
After many years of suffering, I, and many others, have grown convinced that whipped cream is one of the only worthwhile components of our existence. In a world with so much strife, some yummy fluffy white stuff provides a brief escape. If consumed in excess, it can literally be an “escape”—if that’s the way you want to put it—from existence, too. In other words, you will die. But who cares! This is the Day of the Giving of Thanks, and everything, from glasses of wine to stacks of golden, fallen leaves to the girth of your uncle’s belly, is in excess anyway. So pry open that turkey, grab your Reddi-wip, and get to spraying. Save some for me, of course.
Stuffing #2: A Huge Bottle of Mezcal
Now, a simpleton like yourself may look at a Thanksgiving turkey and see what? Nourishment, maybe? A curvaceous carcass? While yes, those are indeed truths, I’m asking you to broaden your ideas, to think outside of the box a little. For what I see in a turkey is potential—potential to be a gift box. It’s pretty much the best gift box of all time. I mean, I’d take some crispy, golden-brown skin over some tacky Minions-inspired wrapping paper any day of the week. Any gift could fit in a turkey if you try hard enough. So why mezcal? Because it’s mezcal (for those of you who don’t know, mezcal is pretty much the more seductive version of tequila). In the grim case that someone accidentally consumes or chokes on a part of the gift, a bottle of mezcal makes one quick to forgive. Speaking from experience.
Stuffing #3: Another Turkey, Inside Another Turkey, Inside Another Turkey
It’s simple, really: turkey-ception. Think of how amused your family will be when you pull the fourth, comedically diminutive turkey out of the third, slightly less miniature turkey. Yeah, it might be a little tricky to find turkeys that incrementally get smaller at a constant rate, but the punchline would be worth it.
Stuffing #4: Coagulated Porcupine Blood
Okay, hear me out, alright? Just think of the shock factor. Aunt Agatha takes a nice, full bite of her turkey, and is greeted with the most grotesque, slimy, and rancid foodstuff the human mind can think to create. There are a couple of reasons you might want to do something like this. First, it’d probably be funny. Don’t lie, you know it would be. Second, it’s a perfect revenge plot. For example, if Aunt Agatha, for one reason or another, had begun to get pretty stingy in recent years with your birthday payments, maybe a little reality check is in order.
Stuffing #5: Salt, Pepper, Rosemary, Thyme, Ginger, and Citrus
Because sometimes a Humor article oughta be sensible and teach you a thing or two.
Stuffing #6: A Pipe Bomb
If Thanksgiving in your household has grown to become a stale, dull shell of its former self, maybe you need to take initiative and inject some excitement into the engagement. With this stuffing, you can turn dinner into a real-life Defuse the Bomb game. Something about the threat of a bombing seems to be conducive to bonding, so the familial ties in your household will definitely skyrocket. Honestly, in my opinion, this is the best stuffing yet. I see no flaws in this plan.
Happy belated Turkey day, Stuyvesant. While it may be too late to adopt these practices for the great year of 2022 (the pilgrim’s feast’s anniversary last month was clearly an epic fail due to how unmemorable it was), 2023 is still on the table. Four-day weekends are a rarity at Stuyvesant, so maybe you should show some respect and give thanks to the holiday that makes them happen.