cbishop

How Tom Turkey Saved Christmas Despite Himself

Executive Conference Room of Holiday, Incorporated

Tom Turkey slammed his feathery fist on the oak conference table and gobbled furiously. "This is outrageous!" he fumed. "Who does that Fat Man think he is?!"

A small cherub midway down the table who was fluttering just above his chair looked to the bird officiating the meeting and said, "Now Tom, name calling is no way to..."

"Back off, Cupid!" shouted the furious fowl. "No one ever encroaches on your holiday, do they?"

Cupid landed on his feet in the chair, then sank to a sitting position, only the top of his head visible over the table. Sadly, he mumbled, "Just Hallmark."

They all groaned, and Father Time said, "We've all been there."

"Exactly!" shouted Tom. "And how did it make you feel?" he asked Cupid.

There was no answer from the little winged man. He just plucked his bowstring forlornly.

"How 'bout you, Lucky? Anybody ever mess with March 17th?" Tom challenged.

"Aye, boyo, dey're always after me..."

"NOBODY ASKED ABOUT YOUR LUCKY CHARMS, LEPRECHAUN!" screamed the turkey.

Clearly trying to control his anger, Lucky looked at the ceiling. With his voice shaking, he said, "Ye do a few commercials, and..." he shook his head as he trailed off. Looking back to Tom, he said, "I was going t'say, 'me pot o' gold,' ye daft duck."

"Which you made doing those commercials," Tom sneered. Then remembering something, he reached into his pocket, and said, "Oh, by the way, here's that piece of gold I borrowed last year."

"Oh yeah," chimed in the others, and everyone slid a gold piece across the table to the leprechaun. Cupid's coin sat on the edge as that's as far as the hand peeking over the table could reach.

Lucky raked the gold coins in quickly, then put one knee up on the table as he stretched to reach the one in front of Cupid. As he scooted back into his chair, he said, "Ye're just mad, Tom, because de only company dat ever calls ye fer a commercial is Tyson."

Tom gasped in exasperation. "They wanted to pluck my feathers and slather me in butter!"

"Mm," came a voice from the far end of the table. An old man with bushy eyebrows smacked his lips a couple of times before saying, "That reminds me. Did anyone else skip lunch?" He looked around at the group with a grandfatherly smile as he quietly typed into a laptop.

Turkey glared at Father Time and said, "I'm really glad you go on vacation in a couple of months. Baby New Year is so much easier to deal with."

"Oh, surrre," balked Father Time. "Little brat's always introducing new resolutions and making promises he doesn't keep. Swell guy."

"I like him," came the muffled voice of Cupid from below table level.

Father Time just raised his eyebrows as he continued keying.

"You like everybody!" scoffed Tom.

"Yes, he does," said a snowman sitting next to Cupid. "Even you."

"Oh, shut up, Frosty!" barked the turkey. "The only reason you're even here is that Santa couldn't be bothered to show up! Again! Too busy stealing holidays, I g- obblegobblegobble!" the bird squawked as a snowball hit him in the face.

Lucky laughed. The others snickered.

Tom slowly wiped the snow from his face, breathing heavily with anger. Suddenly, his hand darted out and grabbed the carrot off of Frosty's face.

"Hey!" shouted Frosty. "Dad's nod ride! Gib dad bag!"

"Got your nose," Turkey sneered, ticking the carrot in front of Frosty like a metronome. The eyes of Santa's stand-in followed it back-and-forth a few times before Tom suddenly swiped it upwards, flicking the brim of the snowman's hat and tipping it backwards off of his head, causing him to go inanimate. Tom bit off the end of the carrot, then jabbed the rest into the side of Frosty's head, causing the large snowball to list slightly to one side, and one of the coals that made up his eyes to pop out of its socket and bounce onto the middle of the table.

The room went silent. All looked at the immobilized snowman in shock, not knowing what to say. The silence was only broken by horrified gasps when Frosty's one-eyed head tumbled into the chair next to him, burying Cupid in a pile of snow.

Further muffled by the snow, the small voice of the cherub called out, "I'm okay!"

"Enough," said the voice of quiet horror, sending chills down the spines of everyone there.

All turned to the one member of their conference that hadn't spoken until now. His eyes and mouth danced with firelight from within, and his pumpkin head burned with an unearthly flame. His neck creaked like a dry branch as he looked around the table at the group.

"Oh, how rude of me," remembered Tom. "You all know Jack O'Lantern? He's heading up Halloween while Sam Hain is on leave."

The group mumbled their greetings in unison. Licking his lips, Father Time added, "Now I want pie."

Jack looked at the old man silently. Small flames flickered in his eyes.

Time just shrugged and became very interested in his laptop, still typing steadily.

With a voice that seemed to echo from within his hollowed out head, Jack's voice floated through the room, "I have to agree with Turkey. Claus is overstepping his bounds. Christmas commercials even ran before Halloween this year. He must be dealt with."

Tom sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say that. You're used to horror, O'Lantern. I think the job should fall to you."

Jack's neck groaned as his head snapped around towards Tom. "Me? You want..." He sputtered and coughed violently with the surprise, the wind of it blowing out the flame in his head. His voice suddenly went normal. "No! I couldn't possibly!"

Tom looked at him with displeasure.

"It's not in our budget! Myers and Krueger are killing us with all of the litigation their actions have brought on the company! I simply can't," his voice broke. Hoarsely, he added, "Hain would have me back in Sleepy Hollow so fast I'd lose my head!"

"Fine," said Tom, reaching behind his back. Bringing his hand back, he now had a shotgun. Cocking it, he seethed, "I guess if I want something done, I'll have to do it myself!"

"Does that mean the meeting's adjourned?" Father Time asked as he typed.

"Yeees, we're adjournnned," Tom mocked. "Just what in the world are you typing over there anyway?" demanded Turkey.

Time stopped. Then he smiled and said, "Why, the minutes, of course."

Standing abruptly, Turkey raged, "Ooooooo!" and stormed out of the room. All watched silently as the glass door clicked shut behind him.

Pulling a stick lighter from his pocket, Jack stuck it in his mouth and snapped the trigger, relighting his flame. "I think I could go for pie now too. I'm buying. Who's with me?"

Father Time paused with his laptop half closed, looking a little sick.

Cupid stood in his chair, waist deep in the snow from Frosty's head, and looked at Jack with disgust. "Dude!" he chirped in his childlike voice.

"What?" said Jack.

Lucky answered, "Isn't dat like... cannibalism, lad?"

Jack gasped sharply and his flame went out again, "What?! No! Omigod! NO! I...I mean..." He stuck the lighter back in his mouth and snapped the trigger again. "How could you even think...? I want pecan pie!"

"Ohhh!" they all said, smiling with relief and nodding their heads. Then they all gathered their things and headed out the door, discussing their plans for the holiday.

As the door swung shut behind them, Father Time called out, "Is it okay if I still get pumpkin pie?"

***

North Pole, Santa's Workshop

Santa sat at his desk behind a mountain of paperwork. He was correlating letters of children around the world from his Inbox with the names on his Naughty and Nice lists. The letters from children on the Nice list were placed in the Outbox for the elves to process, and the letters from children on the Naughty list went into the trash. It didn't matter what they wanted- they were getting coal. Oh, he still read them for expressions of remorse or possible selfless requests for others, but most of the time he was met only with disappointment.

Gazing out his window at the mountain of coal behind the reindeer stables, Santa thought to himself, It seems that the Naughty list gets longer every year. He shook his head sadly as he looked back at the pile of letters on his desk that he still had to go through. Even in disappointment, his eyes still had a twinkle to them, if dimmed just a tiny bit.

He hated to admit it, but that mountain of coal only made everyone's jobs easier: it wasn't as hard for the elves to keep up with the toy orders; he had less stops to make on Christmas Eve; it wasn't as much weight for the reindeer to carry; and the coal was packaged mechanically and delivered by UPS. He preferred Fed Ex, but he felt the gloomy brown uniforms put an extra note of disappointment on the deliveries for the naughty. Something for them to think about for next year.

Santa sighed deeply, took off his glasses, and tossed them on the desk. He rubbed his eyes with his fists and yawned softly with an "Oh. Oh. Ohhhhh."

Just then, the front door slammed open and a cold wind swept in. Santa's head jerked up in surprise. "TOM?!" he shouted. Tom Turkey shuffled in stiffly, clutching his wings around himself, teeth chattering wildly, and shivering uncontrollably. "Tom! Tom, my dear bird! What on Earth are you doing all the way up here? Why didn't you call?" Santa fretted as he ran to the door. He pushed the door shut quickly and ushered Tom in towards a plush couch in front of the fire. Taking his coat off, he draped it around the the bird's shoulders, put his red hat with the white ball on Turkey's head, stoked the fire with the poker, then sat in a wing chair at one end of the couch, angled towards the fire.

Pouring a cup of hot cocoa for his unexpected guest and one for himself, Santa said, "Goodness, me, Tom! Why are you up here in this weather? I was not expecting a frozen turkey tonight," Claus chuckled.

Tom shivered heavily as he attempted to turn his stiff neck towards Santa. "Ha," his teeth chattered several times, then, "ha," he finished. He sipped on his cocoa, which helped his shivering to subside noticeably, then leaned a little closer to the fire. "I'm f-freezing my t-tailfeathers off, and y-you're making j-jokes," he said.

"Nowww Tom, you know I didn't mean it, and you'll thaw out soon enough. But sit right there! I'm glad you came! You can save me a trip! Just let me grab my lists!" said Santa excitedly, and quick as a dash, he headed into his office.

Hurriedly, he shuffled the long papers through his hands, scrolling through the lists for everyone at Holiday, Inc. He found Baby New Year, Cupid, Father Time (of course, the old rascal), Jack, Lucky, and Sam. Confused for a moment, Santa thought, Where is Tom? Could it be? No, certainly not. Not Tom. Still, he picked up the Naughty list and scrolled quickly to the T's. He gasped when he saw Tom Turkey's name, and dropped the list with horror on his face when he saw why. "Frosty?" he choked. Turning quickly to the door, there stood Tom in Santa's coat and hat, with a shotgun pointed right at him. Whether still shivering from the cold, or from what he was about to do, it was hard to tell.

"Tom, please," said Santa sadly. "You don't want to do this."

"Yeah, J-Jelly Belly, I d-do." He shivered hard, then said, "C-Christmas has been p-pushing Thanksgiving out of the w-way for f-far too long, Claus! That's going to s-stop tonight! And I-I'm going to have a v-very," he shivered, "happy Thanksgiving."

Santa shook his head as he reached into his pocket. Withdrawing his hand, he was holding a lump of coal and a card. "Take these," he said. "It's the last things you'll get from me. Add them to the fire and warm yourself up."

Tom sneered. "You'll b-be warm where y-you're going t-too, Fatty. Ho, h-ho, ho!" he mocked, and then he pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed in the small office, and Santa fell hard to the floor after hitting the wall. Tom glared at the fallen Claus, then walked over and kicked the body. "It's p-past time I did th-that!" he shouted. He headed for the door muttering, "Good for n-nothin', lousy-" but stopped when he kicked the coal Santa had dropped from his hand. Noticing the card, he picked both up from the floor and walked out to the fire.

Pulling the coat around him with one hand, he tossed the coal on the fire as he sat down, and turned the card over in his hand. He read what was on it, and jumped up in surprise. "No!" he exclaimed. Then he dropped the card, fell to his knees, and shouted, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The card lay in front of the fireplace, soft light dancing over the face of it. It read:

If something should happen to me, put on my suit. The reindeer will know what to do.

Tom's screams echoed into the night.