There wis this turkey leg that wis swimming aboot in gravy n huving the time ae her life. Lipstick wis on, eyes awe painted wae that eyeshadow stuff n the likes. Making the best ae her new life efter being lynched, cooked, n separated fae the rest ae her wee turkey body so she wis.
“Senga dae ye want tae mooj, ya cow?” said a roast tattie wanting some ae that gravy action. “Am fucking freezing.”
“Awain suck ma boaby red raw till ma baws faw aff, ya wee prick.”
The sweetcorn n carrots wir singing Christmas songs n pissing that tattie right aff. Senga welcomed them intae the gravy n that wis the last straw fir the tattie.
“If am no getting in, none ae yeez ir! Bastards!”
It jumped on the corner ae the plate and tipped them awe on tae the floor where a wee dug proceeded tae much fuck oot ae them. But Senga managed tae escape the jaws n bolted oot the windy tae freedom. A Christmas miracle it wis. Christmas Miracle!
Did that craft turkey leg ken that the tattie would dae that? She did, didn’t she? Wow! A hope she made it oot ae Muirhead n found a nice wee spot in Crowwood woods tae huv a lovely wee Christmas n live oot her days in peace. But something sadly tells me a mad gypsy dug will huv her in its chops before she even gets past the pub.