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It was the Tuesday evening before Thanksgiving and the store lights went dark

“Time to move out if you’re with us,” said 24-6 the clans’ patriarch

“Our army has dwindled but our giblets still have heart.”

“We’ll fight till our red buttons pop. We can get her back if we do our part.”

“Sir,” little 10-4 piped up, “18-4 and 16-2 have both been taken.”

“Casualties of war sonny,” said 24-6. His nerves unshaken

Their plans drawn up, their objective for the raid was 19-6

The exquisite hen with large rounded breasts and to die for drumsticks

The information 10-4 had obtained late at night after the store had closed

Showed the address on the store rewards card could be approached unexposed

So the small band of raiders checked their gear and set about their mission

They had sliced off their plastic wrap and were ready to battle their opposition

Quietly they scuttled across the floor and through the receiving doors

Dashing past the parked trailers and rendezvoused by the grove of sycamores

The band of raiders raced on under the cover of lost and found camouflage

Dragging behind them meager supplies,  they took cover in the shrubs behind the garage

They had brought the store’s hand truck, a chain of plastic bags, and a box of dog bones

Standing on 24-6’s shoulders, 10-4 quickly cut the lines to the house telephones

“Quiet! Someone’s coming,” hissed 17-3. Covered with the camo the group fell silent

The family of the house passed. No invader moved as a clash to get violent

The people piled into the car and left for a Thanksgiving parade

The band thought the house empty and hadn’t figured on the live-in maid

The first bird crashed through the window holding dog treats and the plastic chain

Using the hand truck as a catapult, 24-6 was firing his squad inside, only he would remain

The chain uncoiling down the side of the house showed all were inside

“We’re trying to get her now,” whispered 17-3 prying the cooler doors not to be denied

The doors popped open and there she was in all her enticing beauty

“Come on, no time to explain,” as two others grabbed the bewildered cutie

Suddenly a high pitched growl and a burst of light illuminated the area

“What’s going on in here?” screeched the maid her voice tinged with hysteria

A dinky teacup Yorkie barked frantically at the nearest pale white invader

The maid fearing the worst, grabbed the nearest weapon, a rotary cheese grater.

Bitch slapping the yappy dog 17-3 hustled 19-6 back down the chain

To get her out now and leave no one behind was their goal to obtain

10-4 threw a large bowl of jellied cranberry sauce at the maid

Another raider slammed the box of bones over the dog’s head to stop the noisy tirade

With no casualties the band of of marauders slid down the chain and into the night

Stopping briefly to catch their breath before heading to the appointed spot to reunite

Ain’t never seen seen nothing like this, thought the overweight detective

It seems to steal a turkey was their only objective

The sauce spatter pattern indicates the sauce was thrown from this spot

And the berry stained catatonic maid couldn’t tell us squat

Still holding the grater she kept mumbling about little white ghosts

With the dog stuffed with bones this crime scene is difficult to diagnose

Shaking his head looking at the mutt lying in a pool of slippery red sauce

He eyed the chalk outline of where the maid had slipped, logic at a loss

Looking at the store receipt for a large 19 pound plus turkey

His thought process as to motive proved more than a little murky

Later with 19-6 standing wing in wing under the tall tree called Old Hickory

24-6 was heard to say, “ I love the smell of cranberries in the morning. It smells like victory.”