Thanksgiving morning has its own sound. The parade's murmuring on the TV in the other room, the oven door creaks open every twenty minutes, and somebody's already arguing about whether the stuffing goes in the bird. It's cold enough outside that the windows fog up, and you're in the warmest thing you own, holding a coffee, staying just far enough from the kitchen that nobody hands you a potato peeler.
Then he walks in. A tom turkey in dark shades with a boombox up on his shoulder, gold music notes drifting off the speakers, and a full fan of copper, rust and gold tail feathers, rebuilt in chunky pixel art like he strutted straight off a game cartridge. Underneath, JIVE TURKEY in copper title-screen lettering.
I made it for the long, cozy stretch of the holiday: the touch football in the yard, the nap on the couch, the leftovers at midnight. Pull it on in the morning and keep it on until the last slice of pie is gone.
