Wild Turkey Boyz In Da Woods

[Scene: Three turkey gobblers—Tom, Jerry, and Clyde—are hanging out in the spring woods near the edge of a green wheat field, nervously glancing around. The distant sound of a hunter’s shotgun echoes in the background.]

Tom: [Pacing nervously] Man, I swear, every spring, it’s the same thing. One minute, we’re strutting around like kings of the forest, and the next—BAM—Earl is destined for a place of honor next to a bowl of mashed potatoes.

Jerry: [Sighs dramatically] Earl was a fool, Tom. He was out there doing the “Look at my feathers, ladies” dance on opening morning. Rookie move. If you’re gonna strut, do it at lunchtime when hunters are taking a nap.

Clyde: [Pecking at the ground] Yeah, yeah, yeah. We all know Earl wasn’t the sharpest spur in the flock. Remember when he tried to fight that lawn flamingo? Thought it was a rival. I miss him, but come on—survival of the fittest.

Tom: [Stops pacing] Okay, but let’s be honest—we’ve all done the dumb, “Look at me, I’m a big deal” strut. Especially when all the hens are watchin’ and peckin’. We hear Brenda purr, and suddenly, we’re all out here like we’re in a Vegas revue.

Jerry: [Rolls eyes] Please. As hens go, Brenda’s overrated. She’s all yelp, no substance. “Oh, look at me, I’ll put a big gobbler smile on your face.” Girl, please, that so doesn’t matter when you’re dodging HEVI-Shot.

Clyde: [Laughing] Facts, Jerry, facts. I’m sick of these hens thinking they’re influencers or something. Like, “Follow me back to my roost.” Nah, girl, I’m not trying to get ambushed by some fool in Realtree while you post thirst traps on the log pile.

Tom: [Shaking his head] Y’all act tough, but I see you out there, Clyde, fanning those tail feathers every time Carol walks by. “Oh, hey Carol, I didn’t see you there. Just airing out my plumage.” Pathetic.

Clyde: [Defensive] Hey, first of all, Carol’s different. She’s got that natural, wild look—not all puffed up like Brenda. And second, it’s called asserting dominance, Tom. Learn it.

Jerry: [Snorts] “Asserting dominance.” Yeah, that’s exactly what Earl was doing last week, and now he’s a casserole. Assert dominance, get blasted.

Tom: [Eyes darting around nervously] Look, I’m just saying, spring gobbler season is open. Every leaf crunch and twig snap sounds like the Grim Reaper’s footsteps. And every yelp could be a hunter with a load of Number 5s. Y’all can argue about hens all you want, but I’m staying low. No struts, no gobbles, no tail fans. Survival mode, boys.

Clyde: [Smirking] Oh, so now you’re “Tactical Tommy Boy”? Please! You were gobbling so loud last week, I thought you were starting a podcast.

Jerry: [Laughing so hard he stumbles] “Welcome to the Wild Woods Podcast. I’m Tom, and today’s guest is a face full of tungsten shot!”

Tom: [Glares] Y’all think it’s funny until it’s your drumsticks on the platter. I’m telling you, we need a plan. We stick to cover, move in silence, and absolutely no flexing until turkey season ends.

Clyde: [Rubbing his beak thoughtfully] Hmm, sounds good. But counterpoint: What if I look really good right now? Brenda’s over there by that oak tree, and I feel like she’s been giving me “the look.” I’m just saying, maybe I do one little strut.

Jerry: [Deadpan] Yeah, yeah, Clyde. Do it. Win her over. Win a date with a side of cranberry sauce. 

Tom: [Facepalms with his wing] I can’t with you two. I’m over here trying to survive, and y’all are auditioning for the forest edition of The Bachelor.

Jerry: [Raises a wing] I’d watch that. “One gobbler, 10 hens and only one gets to share his roost.” I’d bet my beard on Carol. Brenda’s too clucky.

Clyde: [Snickers] Nah, Brenda’s good TV. She’s out here starting drama like, “I just think it’s funny how…”

Tom: [Shakes his head] You two are hopeless. I’m scratching out a hidey-hole until the season is over. If you need me, I’ll be not dead.

Jerry: [Calling after him] Yeah, yeah, see you at Sunday dinner, Tom. We’ll save you a wing.

Clyde: [Shouts after him] Tell Earl we said “Hey!”

Gunshot echoes in the distance.

Jerry: [Pauses] … That wasn’t Tom, was it?

Clyde: [Squints at the horizon] Nah. That sounded like Steve. He never shuts up this time of year, so of course they popped him first.

Jerry: [Nods solemnly] Rest in peace, Steve. He had a great tail fan, though.

Clyde: [Sighs] He did. He really did.

They both sit in silence for a moment, pecking at the ground as another gunshot echoes.

Jerry: [Looking at Clyde] … Still thinking about strutting for Brenda, aren’t you?

Clyde: [Nods slowly] Yeah. Yeah, I am.

Jerry: [Shrugs] Can’t save ’em all.

Gunshot echoes. Silence.