Gobble Gobble: A Tale of Thanksgiving Terror
tractor’s massive rear wheel. The tractor hops gently as it crushes and mangles the poor woman’s
“Nooo, God damn it!” Joe yells out as he rips the cloth of his coveralls and jumps off the
tractor. He furiously turns towards Bertha who is moaning in pain, but it is too late. He is simply
not fast enough. Time comes to a near standstill, yet there nothing he can do. He watches, in slow
motion horror, as the round blades of the tiller behind the tractor slide over Bertha’s body, slicing
and dicing her, from the neck down, like a piece of meat. Before he can even react a loud “pop”
from the tractor silences its engine bringing it to a stop.
The sudden noisy stop snaps Joe back into real time. He stares frozen in horror at Bertha
trapped under the tiller. A whimpering groan snaps him into action. She is still alive! He rushes
next to her head which looks nearly decapitated from the machine-mangled body.
“Joe.” Bertha manages to blurt between her sniffles and moans.
“I’m here darling. I’m here,” shaking, trembling, his voice breaking. “don’t move. Oh God. I
love you.” As he starts crying, “Don’t move. I won’t let you die. I promise. I’ll never let you die.”
Becoming infuriated. His voice deepening. “Never! I swear to God, damn it, we will be together
The night is as still as can be. The air is thick with fall mist and fog. The dead forest floor
seems alive, painted with eerie shadows from the iridescent black and white glow of the full moon.
The gnarled leaf-less branches of the autumn forest seem timeless, when suddenly… two small
lights flicker out of the dark, side by side, like two candles in the night. They flicker, and then they
move. The two points of light slowly start creeping out from behind a bush… revealing the
silhouette of a cougar, and it seems to be stalking something.
The cougar is looking at a farm house in the distance. It glows in the moonlit mist. The animal
is frozen still, watching, observing, preparing.
There is movement at the Farm House. In one of the dark corners something is moving. It is
the silhouette of a man, squatted down, doing something. He stops, slowly rises to his feet and