Tur-kenstein!

When I was in the Navy, I worked in the Hospital Corps. While stationed at Charleston, SC, one of the doctors there allowed me to put a couple of sutures in the chin of a very drunk, very loud and obnoxious chief petty officer. I was supervised at all times and followed the doctor's instructions to the letter. What I lacked in experience, I made up for in enthusiasm. Somewhere in this world is a 70-plus-year-old retired Navy veteran with a slightly crooked scar on his chin, just under his lower lip.
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Fast-forward to Thanksgiving, this year. I'd like you to meet Tur-kenstein, the guest of honor at our dinner.

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Whoever butchered the turkey slit the skin across its breast. Knowing that the flesh underneath the split would dry out during roasting, I used some of the trussing needles to pin the skin back together to prevent that from occurring. As you can see in this photo, my suturing skills have not improved with time.

This bird is huge (we like lots of turkey leftovers in this family), filling the roasting pan almost from edge to edge. In fact, I had to remove the parson's nose (tail) after I stuffed the bird to get it to fit easily in the pan. I had set the nose atop the bird to do something else and was amused by the sight I beheld when I returned to the turkey.

With all those needles and the suture-like trussing down its breast, the parson's nose on top made me think of Frankenstein, all cobbled together from various body parts, stitching scars everywhere. Immediately, the bird was named Tur-kenstein.

I never listened when Mama said 'don't play with your food, Martha,' so I borrowed Ball's googly-eyes (weren't doing him any good, anyway) and gave Tur-kenstein the appearance of sight.

Really creeped me out, after I stopped laughing.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
(c) M. C. McLemore, 2008