White House, Washington, D.C. — A reprieved turkey named Wishbone reportedly tweeted the Turkey-In-Chief that she wanted to die just hours before disappearing. The aggrieved turkey was demanding a kinder fate than letting Mr. Trump put his tiny hands all over its breasts and thighs.
Within hours of the pleading tweet, the unserved entrée disappeared, leaving behind a few plucked feathers and a bloodstained note FBI agents are currently examining.
“Feeling me up like livestock ain’t making it anymore,” the note said in barely legible hen scratch.
Two congressional committees and the Department of Justice Special Prosecutors Office are demanding copies of Wishbone’s final missive.
The note is an apparent reference to Honest and Abe, two turkeys pardoned by former President Barack Obama in 2015. Those birds are now leading pampered lives in Virginia.
The turkey sharing a berth with the doomed bird on the way from Minnesota reportedly said “Screw that” after learning that as Wishbone’s designated backup, he will now spend his days cavorting in Alabama with Judge Roy Moore instead of being stuffed with cornbread and oysters.
“I don’t even know that chick, or whatever it was,” the gobbler named Drumstick communicated with representatives from the National Turkey Federation who raised him. “Kill me, please!”
The early morning, back-channel tweet was reportedly received while Mr. Trump was mulling a bulleted brief from White House chief-of-staff John Kelly detailing the differences between a turkey and a chicken in anticipation of the annual pardoning ceremony. Kelly, a former Marine general, told the Chicken Hawk – In – Chief that a “turkey” in idiomatic American English is an ignorant moron, and a “chicken” is a weasely little puke who hides cowardice behind phony patriotism. In the background, Silver Star recipient and National Security Advisor Maj. Gen. H.R. McMaster was reportedly overheard urging Kelly to “show him the kindergarten reader with the big color pictures.”
“Ask Dirty Hillary what she did with her chicken, um . . . turkey, whatever,” Mr. Trump responded from his throne room after his post-tweet wanking and morning ablutions.
In a separate tweet, Mr. Trump told the Keebler Elf to round up the usual suspects and grill them if he still wanted to have a job after the holidays. Twelve leftover Obama staffers close to the White House scullery have already been questioned, and all admitted seeing all kinds of white turkeys in the West Wing, according to investigators investigating leaks.
Turkey proponents told The Shinbone Star that ever since Benjamin Franklin was rebuffed for offering the noble turkey as a better candidate than the bald eagle for the national bird, turkeys have been treated in the most barbaric ways. Few care. Two times a year, Americans wash down trainloads of the big, really stupid birds with tank cars of gravy. Except for the PITA people drooling down their fronts for a cold turkey sandwich slathered in Miracle Whip with potato chips squished in it while watching the Detroit Lions lose.
Before 1948, turkeys sent to the White House staff were scarfed up faster than starving dogs can gulp a rump roast. The annual indulgence only happens at all because former President Harry S. Truman was forced to introduce the pardoning ceremony to appease insulted poultry producers angry that the White House had suggested Americans forego poultry dishes on Thursdays, unfortunately not considering that Thanksgiving and two other holidays fell on Thursday that year.
“If I can fry whole cities like chicken, I can damn sure order a baked turkey on Thanksgiving,” thundered “The-Buck-Stops-Here” Truman after the poultry crisis erupted.
Immediately after the startling news broke Tuesday, just hours before the traditional pardoning ceremony was held at the White House, 14 former stars and starlets marred the event with reports of sordid affairs with moderately famous Hollywood turkeys. Two darlings with Slavic accents claimed Mr. Trump rubbed them the wrong way in Moscow, and one former starlet revealed that her three-minute basting from a “fat, old butterball named Harvey or Harold something, was even better than the icky, wet-lipped, tongue-darting dabble that Al Franken slipped me” at their USO dinner.
“It was like he was nibbling my giblets. Yuk!” she explained. “I feel so violated.
The Shinbone Star was unable to confirm almost all this story.