What the government doesn’t want you to know about Thanksgiving’s darkest secret.
Each Thanksgiving, the President ceremoniously pardons a turkey, sparing it from becoming the centerpiece of someone’s dinner table. It’s a tradition steeped in Americana, wholesome values, and—according to insider sources—a ticking time bomb of poultry chaos.
This year’s pardoned turkey, “Cornelius Gobblesworth,” seemed like your average, slightly plump, and camera-shy farm bird. But beneath those feathers lay a cold-blooded criminal mastermind, ready to wage war on society. Hours after his nationally televised pardon, Cornelius embarked on a crime spree that would leave law enforcement scrambling and citizens clutching their leftover pumpkin pie in terror.
It all began in the quiet town of Gobbler’s Knob, where Cornelius was supposed to enjoy his post-pardon life at a luxurious animal sanctuary. However, a local convenience store clerk, identified as “Steve,” would soon regret selling scratch-off lottery tickets to the seemingly harmless bird. According to security footage, Cornelius waddled into the store, grabbed a Slim Jim with his beak, and stared down Steve for several tense moments.
When Steve asked for payment, the turkey reportedly pulled out a stolen handgun, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “gobble mob rules,” and fired a warning shot into the ceiling. Witnesses claim Cornelius stuffed his Slim Jim into a reusable tote bag before fleeing the scene in a stolen convertible, leaving Steve unharmed but very, very confused.
Authorities quickly issued an APB for a convertible containing “one large turkey, armed and extremely dangerous.” Cornelius, meanwhile, had already hit the freeway, weaving through traffic at speeds clocking up to 95 miles per hour. Passersby reported him hanging out of the sunroof, firing wildly into the air with what officers later identified as a stolen paintball gun—because even outlaw turkeys need to accessorize.
Highway Patrol Chief Martha Peck described the scene:
“We’ve seen runaway llamas, escaped emus, even a rogue alpaca or two, but this turkey takes the stuffing. He’s evaded spike strips, outmaneuvered three squad cars, and threw what appears to be cans of cranberry sauce at the squad cars to deter pursuit.”
Here’s where the story takes a darker twist, folks. Several experts in shadowy poultry operations—like Dr. X, a noted avian conspiracy theorist—claim that this is no isolated incident. The so-called “Pardoned Turkey Program” has long been suspected of secretly training turkeys for covert missions under a government project known only as “Operation Fowl Play.”
According to Dr. X, turkeys pardoned by the President aren’t truly “pardoned.” They’re recruited.
“Think about it,” he insists. “Turkeys are pardoned every year, but where do they go? Animal sanctuaries? That’s just a cover. They’re groomed for black ops and, occasionally, rogue missions like this one.”
Dr. X even alleges that Cornelius’s Subaru escape was part of a premeditated turkey coup, aimed at destabilizing the supply chain for canned corn. “If you connect the dots, it’s obvious!”
As of the latest reports, Cornelius is still on the run, last seen near a truck stop, where he allegedly traded two bags of stuffing for a tank of gas. Law enforcement warns that he is armed with questionable judgment and a lot of seasonal rage.
What does this mean for the American public? Perhaps it’s time to rethink the pardoning tradition. Perhaps it’s time to consider the untold costs of giving criminal turkeys a second chance. Or perhaps it’s time to simply stay off the freeway until this situation is resolved.
One thing is certain: this Thanksgiving, the only thing more dangerous than undercooked turkey might be Cornelius Gobblesworth himself.
So, dear readers, if you see a convertible speeding past with a turkey at the wheel, don’t wave. Don’t try to help. And definitely don’t offer him gravy.
Wake up, America. The turkeys are out of control.
