A story:
It was a gray September afternoon when I went for the interview. I didn't know then that my life would soon become like a warm pumpkin pie, deliciously perfect.
I had driven by McPherson's Turkey Farm nearly every day for the last six months as I commuted from my small one bedroom apartment to my small cubicle where I sat in front of a small computer for eight long hours. It wasn't until I was oh-so-conveniently downsized about half a year after I was hired that I even considered searching for employment at that local palace of poultry.
I pulled into the dusty parking lot outside the front office, poked my head in and asked if they were hiring. The plain-faced girl sweeping the floor responded curiously, "Hiring what?"
"Uhhhh..." I hadn't really thought that one through. I just needed some money. The place was close to home and I figured since November was just few dozen flips away on my page-a-day calendar, the old turkey farm down the road may need an extra pair of hands. I hadn't had any particular turkey-related experience except, of course, for my ten-year-running wishbone victory streak at the annual family Thanksgiving feast. But I guess you might say I was feeling a bit plucky, so I decided to give it a try.
"Hiring what?" She asked it again, annoyed this time, anger surfaced on her once-simple face.
"Uhhh, employees?"
"I'll go get Mickey," she said and passed through a back door.
Two minutes later a large bald man wearing overalls entered the office and reached out his hand to meet mine. "Mickey McPherson, nice to meet you. So cap'n, my little sweet potato Sally Mae here tells me you'd like to be Turkey Minder?"
"Well, actually, I... uh...don't exactly know wha -" I couldn't finish, he cut me off with another question.
"So tell me do you have a girlfriend, cap'n?" I was confused. Why was this man calling me captain? Why was he asking me about my present relationship status? How could someone who had so little hair on the top of his head have so much of it growing from his nostrils? What's the difference between a sweet potato and a yam? The endless questions flooded my head. I felt disoriented and lost; as if I were suddenly thrust into large suffocating vat of cranberry sauce, the world was squishy and red.
"Well, uh, gee sir, not really, but I don't really understand why, what you're going for? What do you mean, Turkey Minder?" The question seemed simple enough to me when I asked it.
"Oh, you joker, you crack me up, cap'n Bob. What's a Turkey Minder? Ha! You start tomorrow, 6 a.m. Don't be late. If you're late, the turkeys start to get suspicious and I hate suspicious turkeys. I can't stand that look in their eyes; you'd think I was planning on eating them or something! Oh, wait a second, I am planning on eating them.! Ha! Ahhhh! Ha ha!" His whole gut shook hypnotically as he laughed, alive with joy; no darkness, no snide sarcasm, just pure and simple joy. "So like, I said, cap'n Bobby Boy, don't be late!"
I didn't know what to expect, but because I had nothing better to do and Mickey McPherson intrigued me, I decided to give the whole Turkey Minder thing (whatever that was) a shot. The sun was slowly rising as I arrived, and the few clouds in the pink morning sky were fluffy and light, a celestial stuffing in the big banquet of nature. I walked around back to find the large turkey pens. At least 200 plump, chaotic turkeys filled an area no larger than half an acre. In the far corner stood a young woman. She, too, wore overalls, and her long flowing blond hair fluttered in the soft morning breeze. She was singing softly. Her beautiful, sweet, silky voice filled the void, melding perfectly with the rumbling clucks and gobbles that echoed across the vast New England valley around the farm. She looked at me and smiled but didn't stop. I moved closer, trying to hear what she sang: "Gobble-dee Gobble-dee Goo. Cluck-etee Cluck-etee Coo. Turkeys Turkeys Turkeys, I love-etee love-etee you. Gobble-dee Gobble-dee Goo." She was relentless. I was lost, drawn in by her beauty, her smile, her deft fluency in that mystifying language.
"Hello," I said.. She stared me down, still smiling. Her head bobbing back and forth brought my attention to her bright cheeks, her full lips, her long neck. She pushed my outstretched hand away and gave me a soft, wet kiss right on the mouth.
It lasted but a few seconds but it seemed as if an entire autumn had passed. Pulling her moistened lips away from mine she looked deep into my eyes and softly hummed, "Gobble gobble." I was smitten. The words went right at my heart. Like a simple plastic turkey baster, the words sucked away any glimmer of doubt I once had, and replaced it with infatuation. This was the love I had been searching for.
"Oh cap'n, my cap'n, we found each other at last. Will you be mine?" I asked.
She replied, quickly, "Gobble-dee gobble-dee." There was a glow in her eyes; she meant it.
And so months later, we still sit here together, singing, soaking in the cool autumn air, minding our turkeys, and forever giving thanks.
