Thanksgiving

Buy Two, They’re Small
A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but couldn’t find one big enough for her family for Thanksgiving. She asked a stock boy, “Do these turkeys get any bigger?”

The stock boy replied, “No ma’am, they’re dead.”

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The Game Warden
A game warden was driving down the road when he came upon a young boy carrying a wild turkey under his arm. He stopped and asked the boy, ‘Where did you get that turkey?’

The boy replied, ‘What turkey?’

The game warden said, ‘That turkey you’re carrying under your arm.’

The boy looks down and said, ‘Well, lookee here, a turkey done roosted under my arm!’

The game warden said, ‘Now look, you know turkey season is closed, so whatever you do to that turkey, I’m going to do to you. If you break his leg, I’m gonna break your leg. If you break his wing, I’ll break your arm. Whatever you do to him, I’ll do to you. So, what are you gonna do with him?’

The little boy said, ‘I guess I’ll just kiss his ass and let him go!’

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Happy Thanksgiving to all ...

Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but I just couldn’t sleep.
I tried counting backwards, I tried counting sheep.
The leftovers beckoned - the dark meat and white,
But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation,
The thought of a snack became infatuation.
So, I raced to the kitchen, flung open the door
And gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.

I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.
I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
‘Til all of a sudden, I rose off the ground.

I crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky
With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.
But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees ...
Happy eating to all - Pass the cranberries, please.

May your stuffing be tasty, May your turkey be plump,
May your potatoes ‘n gravy have nary a lump,
May your yams be delicious, May your pies take the prize,
May your thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs.

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Baked Ham

A young couple got married. When the wife prepared to bake a ham to celebrate their first Thanksgiving, she carefully cut off each end before placing it in the pan.

Her husband asked her why she did that and she replied, “I don’t know - it’s what my mother always did. But I can ask her.”

She called Mom, who responded, “I always saw your Grandma do it, so I did the same.”

They decided to check further, so the young woman called Grandma, who explained, “It was the only way I could get it to fit into my pan.”

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Malicious Mischief

This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years. The only friction in their marriage was the husband’s habit of farting loudly every morning when he awoke. The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air.

Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it
was making her sick. He told her he couldn’t stop it and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor; she was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out.

The years went by and he continued to rip them out!

Then one Thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner
and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the bowl where she had put the turkey innards and neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts and a malicious thought came to her.

She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling back the bed covers, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts.

Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting which
was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he ran into the bathroom.

The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned she had got him back pretty good.

About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his bloodstained
underpants with a look of horror on his face.

She bit her lip as she asked him what was the matter.

He said, “Honey, you were right. All these years you have warned me
and I didn’t listen to you.”

“What do you mean?” asked his wife.

“Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out,
and today it finally happened. But by the grace of God, some Vaseline, and
these two fingers, I think I got most of them back in”.

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You Might Be a Redneck If ...

You’ve ever had Thanksgiving dinner on a Ping-Pong table.

Thanksgiving dinner is squirrel and dumplings.

You’ve ever re-used a paper plate.

If you have a complete set of salad bowls and they all say Cool Whip on the side.

If you’ve ever used your ironing board as a buffet table.

Your turkey platter is an old hub cap.

Your best dishes have Dixie printed on them.

Your stuffing’s secret ingredient comes from the bait shop.

Your only condiment on the dining room table is ketchup.

Side dishes include beef jerky and Moon Pies.

You have to go outside to get something out of the ’fridge.

The directions to your house include “turn off the paved road”.

You consider pork and beans to be a gourmet food.

You have an Elvis Jell-o mold.

Your secret family recipe is illegal.

You serve Vienna Sausage as an appetizer.

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Pregnant Turkey

One year at Christmas my mom went to my sister’s house for the traditional
feast. Knowing how gullible my sister is, my mom decided to play a trick. She told my sister that she needed something from the store.

When my sister left, my mom took the turkey out of the oven, removed the
stuffing, stuffed a Cornish hen, and inserted it into the turkey, and re-stuffed
the turkey. She then placed the bird(s) back in the oven.

When it was time for dinner, my sister pulled the turkey out of the oven and proceeded to remove the stuffing. When her serving spoon hit something, she reached in and pulled out the little bird.

With a look of total shock on her face, my mother exclaimed, “Patricia, you’ve cooked a pregnant bird!” At the reality of this horrifying news, my sister started to cry. It took the family two hours to convince her that turkeys lay eggs.

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Stolen Turkey

Ducking into confession with a turkey in his arms, Brian said, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I stole this turkey to feed my family. Would you take it and assuage my guilt?”

“Certainly not,” said the priest. “As penance, you must return it to the one from whom you stole it.”

“I tried,” Brian sobbed, “but he refused. Oh, Father, what should I do?”

“If what you say is true, then it is all right for you to keep it for your family.”

Thanking the priest, Brian hurried off.

When confession was over, the priest returned to his residence. When
he walked into the kitchen, he found that someone had stolen his Thanksgiving turkey.

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