[ WP ] On a farm , the animals worship humanity as gods . Among the turkeys , being chosen for Thanksgiving dinner is seen as the highest possible honor . Write from the perspective of a male turkey who is jealous of his sister , who has been selected to be slaughtered .

On the misty knolls around Lochshire Farms, we turkeys gathered to discuss salvation. 
 
 Father Boewak, the oldest among us and wise in the ways of things, gathered us in the center of the northern field. A grassy spot far away from where we receive our daily gifts of corn, filled with a light and chilly mist. He made his way to the center of the flock and spoke to us. 
 
 `` Gobble to us all! The changing of the leaves brings good fortune to us all, for Thanksgiving is at hand!'' 
 
 `` Gobble! Gobble!'' cried the flock. 
 
 `` And thanks we give! That in our sacrifice, we shed our mortal forms and seek to be made anew in the Fields of God. That with the Offering of our bodies do we receive the gift of an ever stronger soul!'' 
 
 `` Gobble! Gobble!'' cried the flock. 
 
 `` Now for some community announcements. I'm happy to report that in these final two weeks, our corn allotments will increase by 20 %. Humans be praised!'' 
 
 `` Gobble, gobble!'' we cried again. Gatherings were usually of this nature, but I could feel in old Boewak that he had something bigger. We all could feel it, but we endured his bawkings for some time until finally, quiet fell on the flock. 
 
 `` Finally... I have some quite important news for you. It seems that the Farmer has selected one of us to be offered... early.'' 
 
 Deadly silence of anticipation fell on the flock. Early? To be chosen and ascend to a new life so soon? 
 
 `` And through my translations of the Farmer's voice, I have learned that... Gobellia gol Spotted Beak... you have been chosen.'' 
 
 My heart thumped in my breast. Of course... *she* would get picked. 
 
 Gobellia stepped forward, swinging her breasts in mock-modesty. `` Goodness! I..I do n't know what to say! I'm so thankful to be able to do my part for the flock! Farmer be prasied!'' 
 
 That bitch. She never cared about the Farmer. All she cared about was preening feathers and eating. She swung her large frame and accepted all kinds of congratulations from the flock. When she came to me, she pulled my head to hers in mock-embrace, `` At least one of us will make Momma proud'' 
 
 I could feel the spots on my own beak burn. 
 
 Much later, as I was prepared to be offered, I noticed my dear departed sister being carried away to a large white truck, with the insignia of a large boar's head on its side. 
 
 I smiled in the way that only a turkey does. Even the proud can be reduced to naught but coldcuts on the whims of the Farmer 
 
 EDIT: Spelling 

