I saw three wild turkeys this morning as I was headed into work. Along 118, there, at the new rent-all place – you know the one I'm talking about? It's just before you go under the railway trestle.
Well anyway, two of the turkeys were inside that fence and the other turkey was on the outside. You should have seen them. They were desperate to get to each other, running back and forth alongside the fence, gobbling and flapping their big, awkward wings. I felt like stopping and saying, "Just fly over the fence, you stupid bird! You got wings! Use 'em!"
Lately I've been feeling a whole lot like that turkey on the outside of the fence.
The kid's name in the movie is Possum. I turned to Dave and I said, "Dave? Will you call me Possum?" He was half-asleep. He mumbled, "yeah," but he hasn't called me Possum. Not yet, anyway.
If I could have any name I wanted I think it would be Possum. Maybe Scout, from To Kill A Mockingbird, cause that's pretty good, but Possum is better. Cute and cuddly, just like me. With whiskers, just like me.
No rat tail, though. Just turkey feathers.
|I don't know if it's Scout I have a thing for or Gregory Peck.|
Wait. I totally know the answer to that question...