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Hogspore News
National Society of Newspaper Columnists
2008 First Place Humor Column
                                                                      11-19-2018
                                              Hogspore News from the Ozarks
                                                               By Clet Litter

                                       Introduce your frozen turkey to fresh air


  
  If you bought a store-bought frozen bird, today you should introduce that chap to
some fresh air. Me and Punkin paid Hardy Barkins for a farm-raised Tom that’s still
enjoying some sunshine and good times till Wednesday afternoon.

  
  Hardy had a productive season; he must have a hundred plump birds at his farm.
They can sense that something’s wrong cause he greets them each morning with half
a foot grin on his face. He’s feeding them extra food and talking nice to them.   
 
  
  Them turkeys are mostly worried about a coyote or fox breaking in to eat em.
They’re mighty appreciative that Hardy is protecting and taking care of them. Not one
of them is contemplating the possibility of an obese Hogspore family fighting over who
gets to pull the wishbone this year.  

  
  Back to reality, this ain’t no PBS children’s show. Folks are laying in supplies of taters,
yams, flour and lard for biscuit making, plenty of sweet tea, rolls of paper towels for
napkins, a bib for Great Grandpa, and enough tax-free whiskey to take the edge off any
mother-in-law.    

  
  I been thinking a heap about the Thanksgiving meal, so I dreamed about it. I had
dispatched the hollerday fowl and dressed him out for the roasting pan. He’d been
cooking about an hour, when I checked the oven. Even though he was without his head
and neck, he talked to me, “Hey, you big dumb Pilgrim; I’m alive in here.”

  
  I can’t tell you that I was flabbergasted, cause in my sleep bubble, the doctor had
already removed my Flabber when I was a little feller. Being in a somewhat altered
consciousness, I sez, “Thanks for the update,” and stabbed him in the stuffing hole.

    I brushed butter on his goodness, shut the door, and raised the temperature like
I was an impatient warden increasing the voltage to a rowdy prisoner’s electric chair.
I’m not apolergizing for the violence. I weren’t awake and couldn’t help it.

    I checked the oven again later and the turkey said, “Is this all you got? I’m getting dry
in here. I need more butter. Bring it on, Julia Childs. Is this the baste you can do?”

  
  I woke right up and reckoned that this was really a nightmare … no dream ever ends
with a bad pun.

  
  Today is “Have a Bad Day Day.” It sposed to encourage us to wish a bad day to
everyone we meet. Sounds like an event fashioned by the political party, that weren’t
in power at the time.
 
  
  Mumford Pickens says, “I had a high school English Literature teacher that was so
depressed, that to cheer herself up, she would read The Outcasts of Poker Flats.”

  
  You can contact Clet Litter at bobsimpson1947@yahoo.com.

                                                       
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  Contact:
  
  BobSimpson1947@yahoo.com
  
  Largo, Florida
  
  727-596-3458
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