11-16-2018, 02:55 PM
It was difficult to pinpoint when the icon of a turkey originated for the autumn holiday, considering the inaugrual Thanksgiving didn't feature the plump pheasant whatsoever from his memory. If anything, waterfowl was the main dish, but he was sidetracking himself again. Giving his head a violent shake to refocus, Beck observed the three-legged medic's antics from afar, glossy eyes unable to discern the turkeys' deformed heads from the rest of the feathery blur even if he squinted. Although he didn't care what she was attempting to do by corralling birds with brains the size of a garden pea, she made for good entertainment as he lazed under an empty porch's shade. He nearly drifted off into a dangerous trance, staring beyond Delilah and her turkeys at nothing -- thankfully, her meek voice managed to bellow out her intentions, snapping Beck to reality with a wince before he begrudgingly dragged himself over.
Wordlessly flopping down behind the small -- yet still taller -- wolf with his broken ankle jutting out from under him, the poltergeist gave an exaggerated yawn, "Do we ha-ave to?" His schedule was quite cramped, including resetting his freshly-replaced traps, wallowing in hatred, catching an unfortunate critter and feeding Audrey III, then wallowing in despair, then perhaps sharpening some of his knives... well, there was a bit of space to fill. Glancing over the earthen pen as best he could to peek at the chorus of gobbling fools, his dark brow quirked at the better glimpse of their multiple heads. Obviously mutated, he could have assumed, but these were all amusing specimens all waiting for slaughter like sitting ducks. A frightful glint returning to his honey-brown stare, he straightened from his slouch and fought back a giggle. Just one of those turkeys would be a great trophy to add to his steadily growing collection of mutated wildlife, stuffed and beady-eyed. "We can kill 'em, right? Let 'em out alre-eady!" Beck impatiently rasped, rising back to his gauze-bound paws and beginning to twitchily rock on their pads.
[align=center]»――➤Wordlessly flopping down behind the small -- yet still taller -- wolf with his broken ankle jutting out from under him, the poltergeist gave an exaggerated yawn, "Do we ha-ave to?" His schedule was quite cramped, including resetting his freshly-replaced traps, wallowing in hatred, catching an unfortunate critter and feeding Audrey III, then wallowing in despair, then perhaps sharpening some of his knives... well, there was a bit of space to fill. Glancing over the earthen pen as best he could to peek at the chorus of gobbling fools, his dark brow quirked at the better glimpse of their multiple heads. Obviously mutated, he could have assumed, but these were all amusing specimens all waiting for slaughter like sitting ducks. A frightful glint returning to his honey-brown stare, he straightened from his slouch and fought back a giggle. Just one of those turkeys would be a great trophy to add to his steadily growing collection of mutated wildlife, stuffed and beady-eyed. "We can kill 'em, right? Let 'em out alre-eady!" Beck impatiently rasped, rising back to his gauze-bound paws and beginning to twitchily rock on their pads.