The office Thanksgiving party 'Food To Bring' list was posted in the break room. I signed my name next to 'turkey'.

Little did I know it'd be prophetic.

Wanting something other then the usual bland meat, I'd seen advertisements on tv for Cajun Fried turkey from a fast food place that usually sells fried chicken.

I inquired. $35 plus tax. I ordered one filling out the paper work stating the pickup date of November 24, 11 - 11:30 a.m.

The morning of the party, I was at the chicken place at 10:50. I showed the lady at the counter my pre-paid receipt. She disappeared to the back.

While waiting the smell of cooking food reminded me I was hungry. Hmmm... maybe I should sample a bite or three of the turkey before returning to work... My mouth watered.

"Here you are, sir. Hope you enjoy it!" She handed me the bag.

"Thanks!" I reached, one hand clutching the top of the bag, the other at the bottom for support.

"Huh?" The bottom felt cold.

My hands roamed the bird. Sure enough, not only was it cold, it was frozen. "What's this?" I asked the smiling lady.

"It's your turkey."

"It's...it's not cooked!"

"Sure it is!"

"No ma'm, it isn't." I thumped it announcing the sound and hardness of a bowling ball.

She peeled back the bag, pointed to the plastic wrap next to the cooking instructions, 'Cooked Turkey, Cajun Style' "See, it's cooked! You just have ta warm it up. Takes about two hours."

Two hours!" I screamed. You don't understand. Twenty people are suppose to be eating off it in thirty minutes!

"Not this one," she patted it like it was a lone lost relative, "it'll take two hours."

"Wha..." I'm stunned. "You sell fast food. When I order chicken it's hot, not luke-warm, or cold. Especially not frozen. It's cooked, ready to eat!"

"Sir, it's cooked."

I rolled my eyes, here we go again. "Ma'm, nobody is going to be eating it in thirty minutes, much less ten. What am I going to do?"

"You want the turkey or not?"

I grabbed the fowl, feeling fouled. I was cooking, not just warmed up. I was frying.

Steamed. Burnt beyond well done.

I sat in my car wondering what to do. How am I going to face everyone at work with a frozen turkey?

I did something I should have done at the start. I prayed. I didn't expect God to zap the bird with the spiritual micro-wave of his hand, but it'd be nice...

No, I asked for help, and wisdom as to what to do. I started the car and headed for work.

Exiting the highway I spied a Bar-B-Q restaurant. I wonder if they have a way or method of cooking something quickly..." I went in, explained what happened.

'Willie' nodded sympathetically, "We use an oven." He closed one eye, looked at the turkey mentally guestimating the cooking time, "Take two hours, maybe an hour and half. Sorry."

I leaned back against the wall, disgusted. I looked at the clock, 11:20. That'll mean it'd be ready about 1, not in time for the party. Another prayer.

After opening my eyes I noticed he was slicing a turkey loaf.

My answer was right in front of me, Thank you, Lord! "Willie, how many of those do you have?"

"Bout thirty."

"How much will I need to feed twenty people?"

"Most people eat can five ounces, some eight--"

"Give me five pounds. That'll tie them over until the bird is done!"

And it did.

One more thing to be thankful for...

Copyright Al Speegle

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Appearing in Nov/Dec 2006, issue #208 of The Wittenburg Door, The Veggies of Veggie Tales-One Bad Apple. Watch for my book, God Allows U-turns, Left Turns from the Far Right Lane, and the Occasional Running of a Stop Sign, coming out in 2020.