http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2008/11/20081126-3.html
It's holiday season again. Many students will be back home to enjoy the Thanksgiving dinner. Enjoy your turkey.
I remembered back in high school I wrote a fairy tale for 10th grade English class. I posted the story below and hope you will enjoy it.
A Turkey on Thanksgiving
by Richard Zhang
Nov 27, 2003
Having a turkey for dinner on Thanksgiving is an old tradition of America. Every year on Thanksgiving, millions and millions of turkeys have to give up their lives. However, a ceremony began in l947, when President Harry Truman gave a "presidential pardon" to a live turkey on Thanksgiving day. Succeeding presidents have continued the practice faithfully. Our story begins with Monica, a turkey who was released on Thanksgiving of 2003.
Monica was born in a small farm in California. She had nine brothers and sisters. Under her parent’s unconditional care, she and her family grew up happily. Monica loved this world has to offer: unlimited supply of food, blue sky and polite humans. She was so closed with her family. She felt that the most important thing in her life was to live with them.
It was a blazing hot day. The sun burned down in a clear, cloudless sky. Monica and her family enjoyed the sunshine at the farm.
“You guys are all strong enough to leave us and have your own lives. ” Mother told her children.
“No! We can live together forever!” Monica shouted out.
“We can live together forever!” Her brothers and sisters shouted out together.
Mother’s smile mixed with the sunshine. They were all hugging and kissing.
On an afternoon in early October, Monica was surprised to find out her mom was crying alone.
“What’s going on, mom?” Monica asked.
Mom sign and looked down at Monica. “I’m afraid I have some very bad news for you.” She spoke really slowly. She told Monica there was something that Monica had to know. Last Thursday in November was the people’s Thanksgiving Day, a holiday. On that day, every family was going to have a Thanksgiving turkey dinner. Thanksgiving Day was a holiday for people, but it was also the Turkey Day, the end for all turkeys’ day.
“Thanksgiving holiday is just a holiday. Why do people want to eat turkeys?” Monica was angry.
“It’s a tradition of the American people. You can’t change it.” Mom petted Monica’s head softly.
After Monica spread this bad news to every family member, everybody surrounded Mom and Dad. From time to time, they looked at one other, but with their future such a mystery they could think of nothing to say. Then they were silent. Terrible silent.
At bedtime, Monica tossed and turned all night, scarcely getting any sleep between the loud snoring of dad and her own worried thoughts. The worst time in your life is the time before you know you are going to die and you can’t help it. It’s a crunch time for millions and millions turkeys.
On the afternoon of November 26, 2003, Monica’s whole family were packed in an enormous box and moved into the kitchen in the White House.
“Here we are,” A worker said, in a voice undoubtedly meant to be cheerful. “Your new home.”
Monica looked out and saw the prettiest house on the block. The while bricks had been cleaned very well, and through the wide window one could see an assortment of well-groomed plants.
“You turkeys are going to be a part of the Thanksgiving dinner for the First Family. What an honor!” The worker petted Monica’s father, who was moving from side to side.
“Who is the First Family?” Monica asked her mom.
“The First Family is the family of the president of the United States. His family is the First Family. His wife is the First Lady. His dog is the First Dog,” Mom explained to Monica.
“Are they going to eat us?” Monica asked again.
Mother nodded her head with sorrow.
“Why can’t our family eat his family?” Monica felt cheated.
“My poor girl, turkeys never eat people. We have no choice but to die.” Mother smiled with some bitterness.
“I hate here!” Monica said. Her voices rising as she got more and more upset. “I hate this house! I hate this world! ...”
“I hate it too,” dad said, and Monica looked at her dad with relief. Sometimes, just saying that you hate something and having someone agrees with you, can make you feel better about a terrible situation. “I hate everything about our lives right now, Monica,” dad comforts her, “but we are together.”
They spent their last night at White House. This building was like a jail.
At the morning of Thanksgiving Day, two men appeared in the kitchen. There was a bald man with a very long nose, dressed in a long black robe. Behind the bald man there was a man with very long and skinny arms, at the end of which were two hooks instead of hands. Monica had already been staring and shrieking while they were examining her family. The bald man reached over and held Monica, bringing out of the box.
“This one, okay?” He pointed at Monica.
“Excellent,” the skinny man agreed.
Monica was crying. She didn’t want to leave her family. Her mom was also crying with despair.
The skinny man picked Monica up in one scraggly hand and raised her so she was staring at him in the eye. Needless to say, Monica was too scared to even try to bite the hand that held her. She struggled, trying to escape but not avail. The hand was as powerful as the pliers.
“What’s the matter with you? You are chosen to be released by the President. You should feel lucky!”
They brought Monica to the White House Rose Garden. Monica had a chance to see the so-called “President”, who had just flown back from Baghdad. There were dozens of reporters surrounding him.
The president rubbed his hands with great glee. He moved toward Monica with smile on his face. Then he opened the box, petted Monica’s head.
“Now you are free,” the President told Monica.
Monica hesitated a second, then jumped out of the box. Nobody tried to stop her. She then danced in the grass. The grass glistened wetly, and the ground beneath her was soft and moist.
Everybody applauded. Everybody was trying to take picture for her.
Monica wandered around the building. Everybody she met smiled at her.
She wanted to see her family, but they didn’t let her go into the kitchen.
At nightfall, the First Family was having dinner together. She walked into the dining room looking for her family desperately, hoping against hope that her family members were still alive. But all she saw was her dead mother lying in a dish. Her mom was watching her with a dull look on her face.
“Dad, look! There is a turkey wandering around!” The First Daughter said as she saw Monica.
“That’s the turkey your dad released today. Maybe she wants to give us thanks on Thanksgiving Day. What a miracle!” The First Lady told the First Daughter.
“You don’t have the right to release me!” Monica cried.
The First Family never knew a turkey could talk. They were all staring at Monica.
“YOU KILLED MY MOTHER!!!” Monica said each word with hatred.
“Your mother?” The President was confused.
“Yes. My mother,” Monica pointed at her mom. “This is my mother!”
The First Family gazed at each other.
“Kill me! Please kill me! I must be with my mother,” she begged.
A drop of the First Daughter’s tear plopped down on the dinner table.
Monica tensed her leg muscles, took a deep breath and prepared to jump. Nobody moved. Monica jumped on the table. She wanted to be with her mother.
The First Lady screamed out loud.
One of the security guards hurriedly took out the gun and shot at Monica. Monica covered her mom with her wings before she died.
The next day, the president spoke with the new governor of California.
“Last night I saw a turkey who spoke to me in English. I’m not kidding,” the president told Arnold.
“Yes, Mr. President. You are not kidding. But be careful somebody is going to recall you if you keep saying it.” Arnold shrugged.
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