Snippets Sixty-One: Bobby Learns About Turkeys

A week before Thanksgiving, Bobby got off the phone with Ellen Harvelle, making plans for the holiday.  William and Ellen were coming to spend a few days.  William wanted Ellen to rest because she was four months pregnant.

The hunter stood at the foot of the stairs and called Dean’s name.  The older boy appeared at the top of the stairs.  Bobby smiled and told him to get himself and his brother ready. 

The two boys were downstairs when Bobby came out of his room.  He smiled and waved towards the door.  Dean grabbed Sammy’s hand and headed out to the car.

Once both boys were strapped in, Bobby started the car and pulled out of the salvage yard and headed towards town.  They pulled into the shopping center and parked close to the local super market.

He put Sam in the child’s seat of the buggy.  Dean walked beside him.

“We’re gonna have company for a few days.  You’ll like them.  Bill and Ellen Harvelle.  She’s expecting a baby.”

“Did they ask for a boy or a girl?” Dean queried.

“I don’t know, Dean.  You can ask her when she gets here.”

Bobby bought food for the holiday and the weekend.  He turned down the meat aisle.  Dean was looking over the edges of the refrigerated sections, eyes big.  He watched Bobby put different kinds of meat in the buggy.  When the hunter put a large turkey in with the rest, Dean frowned.  He stood on his toes and touched the big bird and asked, “What?”

“It’s a turkey, Son?”

“I don’t eat turkey.”

Curious, Bobby asked the boy, “Why not?”

“Cause it tried to kill me.”

“What?”

“Dad shot one and another came after me.  I won’t eat it.”

After the groceries were bought, Bobby put the perishables in a large ice chest in the trunk and drove over to the diner.  They went inside.  He ordered Sam’s usual and two turkey dinners.

“I won’t eat it, Unca Bobby.  It’s meat.  It tried to kill me.”

The waitress brought the meals.

“Are you telling me you don’t eat meat, Dean?”  Bobby asked, knowing the boy had no idea what constituted ‘meat’.

“No, I don’t.”

“Okay.  I’ll get you a salad.”

“I wanna cheeseburger.”

“A cheeseburger is meat, Dean.  It’s dead cow.”

“Really?” the boy asked.

“Yep. Cow.”

Dean thought about it for a few minutes, than picked up his fork and took a bite of the turkey.  Bobby was right.  The boy would not give up his cheeseburgers.