Very Short Story: The Turkey

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The Turkey

“Donna!”

Summoning her will just piss her off, a voice whispered in his head.

Sammy, was young, long and lean, and curly blond-haired man of twenty-six. He looked to his right toward the kitchen at his wife from the sofa. It was not a close distance. They lived in a big house. It was a large, two-story frame house built in the early nineteen hundreds. She was in there doing something at the cooking island. He looked back at the TV. They didn’t have a lot of furniture and the TV was way over there on the opposite wall of the spacious living room.

“I was thinking,” he said loudly, “if I may – you do go to work, tomorrow, don’t you?”

She walked toward him carrying something. She straightened up the coffee table in front of him as her long brown hair dangled, stood and tossed her hair back, then turned and walked away. She turned into the long hallway toward the stairs.

“I just need to ask you something,” he said as she turned out of sight. “Shit!” he said as he stood up from the couch and walked after her.

Down the long hall he trailed after her, “Donna, I just need to ask you…” she casually rounded the staircase and climbed. As she took one step after another, he watched her sexy tail swish back and forth in her blue jeans up the steps. She had a shapely butt, but her chest was flat as Kansas.

Deep in the back of his mind a whisper arose. She’s more than you can handle.

She went into one of the empty rooms upstairs. They planned to have kids. Sammy thought about that as she turned in that room. That was to be a kid’s room. That was their dream. When they bought the house, they said they would need the room. No kids have come yet, but they were still young, in their late twenties. Following her into the room, the noises they made echoed in the emptiness. He knew that she knew he had followed her in there, but she didn’t stop to acknowledge it.

She’s disappointed in you, that voice whispered.

But, surprisingly, she quickly finished in there and she squeezed past him and back out into the hall. “Will you slow down for a minute so I can ask you?” She kept on walking. “Are you mad at me about something?” She walked on down the hall. He picked up his step.

She’s doing this on purpose, the voice said. She’s ignoring you.

She turned into their big bedroom. Inside, there was a big king-sized bed, a dresser, and a vanity. There was a big oval rug under the bed, and besides that, there was enough room to roller-skate, backwards. Donna went to one of two walk-in closets and pulled out the dirty clothes basket. She hoisted it before Sammy could offer.

“Stop and talk to me.” She’s ignoring you!

She walked out of the bedroom with the basket. She turned and headed toward the staircase.

Bitch is IGNORING you!

“You’re starting to piss me off,” Sammy said at the top of the stairs. Donna rounded the bottom and turned. He knew where she was going with the laundry basket. The combo mud room and laundry room was off the kitchen. It led to the back door and then to the back porch. He stomped down the stairs fast.

She blames me for no kids, the bad sex, everything! Miss high and mighty wants better than me!

Sammy grabbed the post at the bottom railing and pivoted around to the hall. He got to the kitchen and heard the washing machine clunking and went into the mud room. A cool breeze wafted through the curtains to the left of the back door. She had opened the window because of the dryer, of course. He turned and ran smack into her facing him.

She frowned. “Sammy, you have your fist raised to me.”

He looked down. To his surprise, she was right.

Her hand gently pushed his fist down as she searched his eyes. He started to speak. “You can’t talk yet, you’re in a boil. Just listen. If you want to ask me something, just ask it. I’ve got ears. Don’t come yapping at my heels like a puppy.” As she said it, she smiled and pulled a shoulder up coyly and stepped closer. “The energy in this house is unsuited for kids just now. It’s lopsided. I’m settled, Sammy, but you are still in a swirl. I punched your man-ticket, got under your skin, with only my body language and that means that you are way too…sensitive. Calm yourself. You’re a grown man. If you want to ask me something, ask me. If you want to love me up, then love me. Don’t beg me for loving all nervous like, just go for it. That’s all there is, you don’t have to do all this fretting that you do. If you do that…just relax…the kids will pop out like toast.”

He laughed.

“See? Better already. Now what was that burning question you had?”

“Um…nothing. It’s unimportant now.”

She touched his face, “Just ask, remember?”

“Could you pick up one of those small young turkeys from the store on your way home tomorrow night from work? I want to cook my butter-basted turkey for Sunday.”

She stepped back as her eyes widened. One of her eyebrows went up so high he thought it was going to slip off her forehead. “Turkey,” she said as her face reddened.

Don’t wait around for this, the voice whispered.

“All that for a…for FUCK’S SAKE!” She reached into the laundry basket and grabbed a pair of his underwear and threw them at him.

Run, the voice said. This time, he obeyed.

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