Slowly, she removed the lid from her dish. Her perfectly roasted turkey was adorned with a laminated photo of my face, pinned dead center into the breast.
A collective gasp rippled through the room while Gloria stood there, beaming. “It seemed fitting since Stephanie’s been such a turkey this year!”
But this time, I wouldn’t let her win. “Wow, Gloria, you really outdid yourself.” I took a photo with my phone, letting the flash illuminate her smug expression. “Everyone’s going to want to see this.”
Gloria blinked, clearly unsure of what to make of my reaction.
She thought she’d won, but she had no idea what was coming. Gloria wanted attention? Fine.
I’d give it to her. Later that evening, I created an event on Facebook titled “Gloria’s Annual Turkey Roast,” tagged all her friends, and uploaded the photos I’d taken of her masterpiece. The caption read: “Need a centerpiece for your holiday table?
Gloria’s custom ‘turkey selfies’ are the talk of the season! Book now for Christmas!”
The comments started pouring in within hours. One of her neighbors asked if Gloria could make a turkey with her ex-husband’s face on it so he could “get a good roasting.”
Even her church group commented, but those were less enthusiastic.
Some members remarked they’d be praying for Gloria. Another asked if Gloria would be bringing a “turkey selfie” for the Christmas potluck. By morning, the post had gone viral in our local community.
“Oh, Gloria, I thought you’d love the attention! Everyone’s raving about your creativity.”
“Those people are INSANE!” she spat. “I’ve gotten dozens of calls!
Someone asked me to roast a turkey with their cat’s face on it. Their CAT!”
I bit back a laugh. “Well, maybe next time you won’t use my face for your centerpiece.
Actions have consequences.”
“You never should’ve made such a big deal about that turkey on Facebook. My church group is expecting a turkey with MY face on it for the Christmas potluck. You’ve humiliated me in front of everyone I know!”
Mark, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke up.
