Stop The Presses!

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Stop The Presses!
October 16 2002 at 8:58 AM
Tom Turkey  

“Bad enough I need to manage HoD’s lists,” Tom grumbled to himself. “My own lists are getting out of order.” He gazed at the sheer volume of names crossed off HoD’s list. “I gotta catch up!”

Tom continued scribbling until his feathers hurt. He stretched his wings and yawned. Then he smacked his upper and lower halves of his beak together and waggled his dry tongue.

“Gee, I’m thirsty.”

And that’s when the solution popped into his avian mind.

Kat, CJ, Manto, Shiva, Castalia, Daemon, Bt, Orlena,
Pandora, Kalypso, Channdrah, Lyrical, Raindrop, axman,
Maigrey, Sairah, and Aquillea ran around the orchard, gathering apples.

Tern, Whisper, Raindrop, KateP, Kendaa, Roiche, Shambalayogi, Lyrical, Romana, and SheElf already sat around the edge of the hay wagon, bags full and waiting to be brought back to the guesthouse.

Lyric, Birdly, Thalia, Intrigue, Lorelei, Lorel and Aeakos had already completed their run, and they were eagerly preparing apple pies in the kitchen.

“It’s so fun to bake again!” Lorel declared.

“Yes,” agreed Aeakos. “We’ve gotten too lax with the DebU chefs cooking our food at the caf.”

“Well, except Falafel.” Birdly commented, and everyone readily agreed with her.

“How nice of HoD to suggest an early Thanksgiving while we’re all here together in one place!” said Maigrey. “Of course, it’s not early for us Canadians, it’s right on time!” she added.

“Look at all these apples!” Sairah said. “We’re gonna need a really big turkey for this meal!”

“How big is big enough?”

They all turned to observe a giant turkey completely blocking the doorway.

The human specters being left speechless by his appearance, Tom filled the void.

“You know, you should save some apples.”

“For what?” Kalypso wanted to know.


All the hapless ghosts found themselves standing on great plateau of solid rock.

“How odd,” commented Lorel.

Aeakos made his way to the edge of the rock. “Look, there are trees below us.”

“Those aren’t trees,” Manto said. “It looks like grass. Just sorta large grass.”

“Hey, I don’t think this is natural,” said CJ. “Look at this trench right before the edge. It runs all along the edge of the plateau.”

“And it’s way to close to a perfect rectangle to be a natural formation,” added Bt.

Before they could continue their observations, the sun was blotted out. It was sudden, and dark. They all gazed skyward.

“It’s an eclipse,” said Daemon. “But, wait. There’s no solar eclipse today!”

The giant rectangular stone that had blocked out the sun crushed down on them, pressing them into pulp and their ghostly juices sluiced along the trench.

The last sound they heard was the voice of Tom Turkey.

“You need to save apples for the cider, of course.”
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