Posted inGorelets: Unpleasant Poems
The Gobbling
THE GOBBLING It was a normal Thanksgiving meal like any other, until I heard the gobbling from the kitchen, where my mother was checking on a pie. The sound refused to cease. One by one my family members stood up from the table and went to investigate while the rest of us ate with bemused expressions on our faces and gravy on a few of our chins. Gobble-gobble-gobble. I presumed that high pitched chortling was just some goofy turkey day sound effect, like the phony screams that plastic door knockers make on Halloween. But when only my brother and I…