Decapitation…tion…tion…
So, last night my boyfriend was watching a movie for homework (I will blog another time about the fact that 75% of his homework is watching movies….) and there was a pretty graphic cow slaughter scene in it. As I was dozing off, I realized that that bloody scene reminded me of a weird, suppressed memory from childhood.
I grew up in a small, rural area. The houses were all spaced at least a quarter of a mile apart. From a young age, our “socialization” consisted of biking around a dirt road, visiting neighbors that we didn’t really care too much for. It was on one such outing that the Great Decapitation occurred. I guess I should say “DecapitationS”. There was a whole herd, flock, gaggle…whatever the hell you call a bunch of turkeys… of them.
[Hold on. I am googling “bunch of turkeys” to get the correct name. Answer? A rafter or a gang. http://www.npwrc.usgs.gov/about/faqs/animals/names.htm Hmmm. How about that?]
Anyhow, so we go to this “farm” down the road that some gross people lived at. My dad was a friendly enough guy to want to stop and I am sure there was a part of him that was interested in how his 2 young daughters would react to what was going to happen there, so there we were.
[It is now that I realized that we were 5 and 6 or younger at the time of this story. My brother was either not born yet or was too young for this kind of adventure.]
We get there and my younger sister is kind of delighted by the animals. I don’t care much for them. Cows smell like cow shit. Pigs smell like pig shit. Turkeys smell like turkey shit. And so on and so on…
As sis is marveling at the wonders of farm life, my dad heads behind the barn and calls me over. There is a “rafter or gang” of turkeys back there, gobbling and clucking and dancing like Cliff Huxtable all over the place. (Authors Note: Cliff Huxtable dances by moving his head back and forth like a turkey.) Soon, the farm owner grabs a little Cliff, slams it onto a stump and CHOP.
That little thing keeps dancing, though admittedly looks LESS like Cliff with NO HEAD.
Blood is gushing from it’s neck hole and it runs around for what seems like forever. Then, the next turkey gets it. Then, the next. The guy seemed to be rushing it so that there were many (or a rafter or gang) of headless turkeys running around.
The whole thing was sick.
And I had forgotten about it. Until last night.
