the curse of the evangelical turkey

Last year about this time, I met Lucifer himself.
He came to me in the form of Pat Robertson.
He gave me a tv.

I didn't have electricity, so it sat in my room unused until it was stolen by the migrant workers building our new campus.
(That's how Lucifer works, by the way)

He and his host of dark powers had seen fit to grace our devastated school with gifts. (Yeah, yeah, I know....gift horses, mouths...whatever...but this was Pat fucking Robertson, ok?)

One day, just before Thanksgiving break, two of his minions, a middle aged, corn fed, blond couple, eyes wild with Jesus, burst into my classroom, bearing frozen turkeys in their hands and frozen smiles on their faces.

Terrifying.

They bounded into my room like two golden retrievers, smiling maniacally, eagerly offering their frozen turkey to me...while I'm in the middle of a sentence.

Nothing irritates me quite as much as being interrupted in the middle of class. I can get kind of pissy at times, believe it or not.

"Here's a turkey for you!" They both exclaim, wild eyed with Jesus. "Blessed Thanksgiving to you, brother!"

"Ummm...thanks," I responded. "Can you put that in the freezer for me."
I smiled back stiffly and refused to take it from the husband's outstretched hands.

"Oh no, this is for you!" he insisted.
They wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm sure I sounded a bit rude, but what the hell was I going to do with a frozen turkey at 11 am?

Typically, when the school had given us turkeys (our holiday bonus)in the past, I'd given mine to the food drive, which we always had at the same time. I planned to do the same, but the scary Christians weren't having it.

So I took the frozen turkey and let them smile their way on out.

It sat on my classroom floor, next to the 1920's radiator until 4 pm.
It's been in my mother's freezer ever since.

She insists upon cooking it this year...despite my warnings.
Waste not, want not, right?

Pray for us.