Read Talk Turkey for Free Online

snow wasn’t a solitary activity.
    Carson sighed and stood, flicking on the lamp on the table as he went. The living room still looked pretty good like that. Maybe he’d get more lamps and stop using the fluorescents altogether.
    There was no other choice but the overhead in the kitchen, and he squinted a bit when it hummed to life. Terry had been fully defrosted when he’d woken up this morning, so now he just had to figure out where to stuff the herb mix his mother had talked him through making earlier.
    The pamphlets Tom had sent a few weeks ago were still scattered over the kitchen table, which was pretty damning—both in that it showed how little Carson used the table and how often he’d read the damn things. It was stupid, especially since it wasn’t like Tom had written them, but reading them made Carson think about Tom, and thinking about Tom made him smile, so the pamphlets had become something of a permanent fixture.
    They were also how he knew he was going to have to take the wrapper off Terry and reach inside to grab the bag of God only knows what that was inside. Who in their right mind would want that bag of disgusting turkey parts? The pamphlet said they were good for making gravy, but Tom had told him to make gravy out of the drippings in the pan, and he hadn’t mentioned turkey necks or whatever else was in there.
    Carson rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and hauled Terry out of the refrigerator and plopped it in his sink. Unwrapping a turkey that large was a bit unwieldy, but he made it work. How was he supposed to get that bag out, though? The hole was tiny.
    He gritted his teeth and worked his fingers in, hoping the hole where Terry’s neck had been would open up a bit with some pressure. His hand slid in with a disgusting squelch.
    Carson felt around tentatively, sighing in relief when his fingers closed over plastic. He’d been a little worried that the neck and other things were just going to be shoved up in there, even though everything he’d read said they’d be tied up neatly just like this.
    He grabbed the bag and started to pull his hand out, wincing when the hole didn’t open up for him the way he’d expected it to. He tried again, his panic rising. He even let go of the bag and squeezed his fingers together to make his hand as small as possible, but there was no way it was coming out.
    His hand was stuck inside Terry. Jesus Christ.
    Carson braced his free hand against the turkey and kept pulling until he could feel the skin on his stuck hand start to chafe where it rubbed against the hard ridge of Terry’s neck opening. He bit his lip, holding in a laugh that was just this side of hysterical. How was this his life?
    He scanned the kitchen, wondering what he could try next. Maybe he could lube his hand up with olive oil or butter or something? Though, it was wedged in tightly and he wasn’t sure how he’d get it down in there where it could actually help.
    His knives were right there in the block, but Carson didn’t like his chances with that route. He was shaky at best with his left hand, and it would take a lot of force to cut through Terry’s bones.
    What else could he do, though? Run next door to the neighbors he still hadn’t met, brandishing a turkey on his arm? They’d probably call the cops.
    His gaze fell on his phone, which he’d left charging on the counter. Tom. He could call Tom. Tom would know what to do. Tom probably talked people through having turkeys on their hand every day.
    Carson wiped his left hand on his pants and reached for his phone. Unsanitary, but he had bigger problems right now than turkey diseases. Scrolling was awkward, but luckily he hadn’t made too many calls since the last time he’d talked to Tom. He hit dial with his thumb and held the phone to his ear, praying Tom or someone else at the hotline was still there.
    Shit. Tom had been planning to fly to the West Coast for Christmas, which meant he probably wasn’t there. Would Tom’s