loge
Random word list:
besprinkled
finalizations
byworks
Haynes
loge
Word chosen: loge
Definition: the front section of the lowest balcony, separated from the back section by an aisle or railing or both.
Free association word list:
balcony
seat
chair
couch
potato
root
tuber
turnip
roommate’s grandfather
grocery store
shopping
mall
outlet stores
Christmas madness
Black Friday
Thanksgiving
friends
family
long distance
missing them
mostly
Word chosen: Thanksgiving
Writing:
Dammit. He’s coming for me. I know he is. Where do I hide? I saw what he did to Frankie with that axe two weeks ago. The Kid doesn’t know how to swing that thing. At least George was lucky. The Old Man did him in with a single swipe. The Kid had to chop at poor Frankie five times before Frankie stopped thrashing. I don’t want to go that way. It’s horrible.
Shit. There’s The Kid. I don’t know if he’s seen me or not. I don’t think so. Maybe he has. It’s so hard to tell. The Kid has that lazy eye, and he’s a bit slow up top. He could be trying to fake me out, but I’m sure that he hasn’t seen me. Maybe if I stay here in the shadow of the outhouse he won’t see me. He hates the outhouse. I’ve heard that he’s said that he would rather shit his pants than go into the outhouse. I know this is true because of the ruckus that The Old Lady makes when she has to clean The Kid’s pants out. They should have drowned that bastard when he was born.
Son-of-a-bitch. He’s seen me. I’m in for it. Maybe I can outrun him. The Old Man tied Frankie down when The Kid came for him. I’m free to move. Maybe that club foot will slow down The Kid enough for me to make an escape.
Mother-fucker. He’s coming my way now. I have to make my move. Here goes…. I’m off! Ok. We’ll run around behind the outhouse to get out of sight. Now I’m going run straight into the woods. The Kid is afraid of the woods. Something about wolves. I’d rather be eaten by a wolf than chopped at by that imbecile. Ok. I’m in the woods, now to get up enough speed to try to flap over the ravine. Here comes the ravine. I’m almost there. Just a little faster. That’s it! I’m in the air. Just a little further and I’ll make the other side.
Fuck me. I hit the other side! I didn’t make it. Now I can’t get out of the ravine. There’s no place down here to hide. I guess I’m done for. Maybe if I throw my neck at the axe blade I can help The Kid take me down in one fell swoop. Maybe. I guess I’m going to have to try that. I was always raised with the knowledge that I would end up on the dinner table. I’ve accepted that fact, but I’ll be damned if I allow The Kid to butcher me first.
Blood Hell. He’s coming. I can hear his clumsy footsteps stomping through the woods. He’s heading right for me. The end is near. One last glimpse at the sky that I’ll never fly through even though I have these feathers and wings. If only… He’s closing in. Wait! There he is. He’s not slowing down! The sorry bastard is going to bowl into the ravine! He did it! He plowed into the ditch head first.
Asshole! The Asshole is dead! At least, I think he’s dead. He managed to fling himself into the ditch, and landed square on the blade of the axe. What a moron! I think he managed to kill himself. He’s not moving. I’m going to get closer. I can hear some gurgling coming from that wound in his chest. That can’t be a good sign. Well, I can’t get out of this ditch without help, so I’m going to sit here and wait. Interesting, that gurgling is getting more shallow. I wonder if frothy blood is supposed to come out of humans’ mouths. I don’t think so. Oh shit! He shuddered. That scared the piss out of me. Oh. He stopped gurgling. Maybe he’s gone now? Huh. Well, I’m just going to hop up on him and proclaim myself to be The Slayer of Humans. I’ve earned that right. All turkeys will worship me from now on! This victory is for you, Frankie!
… and this is how Farmer Tucker found his retarded son dead in a ditch with an axe wound in his chest. The turkey that was sitting on him was warbling to the skies as if he owned the place. Somehow, Tucker was not saddened by this loss, but he was perturbed that he had to chase the turkey away from his son’s corpse in order to pull him out of the ditch. It was as if the turkey had taken credit for the horrible accident that had relieved the world of Little Billy Tucker.
Sorry for the cussing in this one. I’ve always though of turkeys as being fowl mouthed. Get it?
