Cold Turkey

More thoughts from a decaying brain

Cold Turkey

When he came to he found himself trapped in a small, damp and oppressively hot space. He tried to turn but his movement was severely restricted. He tried to work out how he could have ended up in inside wherever he was but he couldn't remember anything before waking up.

He lay panting and then finally with a much energy as he could muster he raised his head. His nose bashed against the side of whatever was holding him. It seemed to give a little. He waited to get his breath back and then tried again. There was definite movement. With a new sense of energy he raised his head one last time and a gust of cool air entered through the tiny hole he had made in the side with his nose.

But wait, not just air but light. He felt rejuvenated. There was a way out. It was as if he had gone mad as he repeatedly bashed his head against the side until finally his head was out. By wriggling his shoulders and pushing with his feet he could fit his whole body through the gap he had made.

Finally he was free. He sat panting taking in huge gulps of the beautiful cool air. As his eyes adjusted to the light he could see he was not alone. He was surrounded by three of the ugliest things he could imagine and they were all staring at at him. Suddenly they let out the most awful screeching sound and seemed to vibrate from side to side with their hideous mouths gaping open.

He feared for himself until he realised they were screaming at a large grey shape descending towards them from the sky. He found himself screaming with them as it landed right next to them and bent over with its enormous ugly hooked nose.

"Oh you're awake then," it said straight at him.

"I beg you're pardon," he heard himself say.

"You're awake at last," the voice repeated, "You're brother and sisters have been out for days."

He found his mouth dropped open at the idea that this, this ... thing, whatever it was, could think he was related to these creatures.

"I beg you're pardon," he heard himself say again.

"Well who's a sleepy head," said one of the creatures nestled in the twigs beside him.

"Can we name him Mama?" said another, "before Father returns?"

"Yes that would be wise," said the large creature, "he is rather awful at choosing names. Now let's have a good look at you. I know, I know, we shall call you Vernon."

He stared at the creature as if she was mad. "Vernon!" he said in his most sarcastic voice, "Vernon! My name is Chris."

All of the hideous animals seemed to scream and laugh at the same time letting out the most awful sound. "Chris," they kept shouting as though it was the first time they had ever said the word. "Chrees, Chreeees, Chreeeeees," they giggled.

Don't be silly said the massive creature. "No one of us has a name like that.  Our names always begin with V. Your father is called Victor, as was his father was before him. This is Little Victor and your sisters Valerie and Veronica and I am Violet."

"And I am Chris," he shouted with such fury that it silenced their giggles, "and what make you think I am related to you." It was then he dropped his head and saw the enormous claws that grew from the end of his feet.

"Because you are a vulture like all of us," said the large creature in a voice that was as soft a caring as it could ever sound.

It was as if he had punched in the stomach and head at the same time. His head dropped once more and he could see what appeared to be grey stubby feathers growing from his skin.

It was at that moment that a giant shadow fell upon them all and in a rush of wind and noise an even bigger creature landed by them.

"Now who have we here?" said the massive bird

"Well," said the other large bird who was clearly his wife by the way they nestled next to each other, "He is clearly a little confused at the moment.

"I am Chris," he heard himself say with a voice that sounded far more confident than he felt inside.

"Chris!" shouted the big bird, "Chris!"

"Now calm down dear, calm down," said the mother vulture, "he's a little confused at the moment."

"Was this your idea?" the father vulture turned on his wife. "You have always had this stupid ideas about being different. How could you call him Chris! We will be the laughing stock of the Colony. He shall have a name beginning with V and that is my final word.

"My names is Chris," he heard himself say in a calm and controlled voice. "It was nobody's decision but mine so you had better get used to it. My name is Chris. You can call me what you want but I will not answer to it, And before I finish can I make it quite clear that, whilst I don't know what has happened I am not, most definitely not, a vulture." with that he turned his back on them in the most gracious way he could manage.

While the three little vultures quietly laughed at him and said his name in increasingly funny ways he could hear the two elder birds talking to each other. The mother seemed to be sobbing a little and saying that it was because of the father that none of their children ever came back to see them. He was explaining that that was how vultures lived, a new family each year. The mother was getting angrier and saying it just suited him that way. Finally after some raised voices and tears they both turned to the three younger vultures and the father said, "Children, say hello to your brother Chris. Now let's get down to some food."

In the cheering that followed no one heard Chris say again that he wasn't a vulture and to be honest the promise of food had almost taken away his voice. In all the strangeness he had not realised quite how hungry he was. And he really was very hungry, that was until he saw the food. He couldn't work out whether it was the smell or the fact that the father bird was vomiting the contents of his stomach into the mouths of the others that made his hunger disappear in an instant to be replaced by nausea.

"Come along then dear," said the mother vulture, "open wide."

"What the hell is that?" said Chris with undisguised disgust.

"It's finest water buffalo," said the mother, "four days old and right on the turn."

"Let me get this right," said Chris as watched the three young birds gulp it down without the slightest nod to table manners. "If I am to be a vulture I am expected to eat rotting meat thrown up by my father?"

"Or by me," said the mother proudly, "but it won't be long before you are picking the meat from the rotting corpses of dead animals yourself."

Chris could feel himself gagging. "I am not a vulture and I will prove it," and with that he leapt from the tree and fell like a stone to the floor below.

Although it hurt it was worth it. He dragged his damaged leg over to the water and leant over with his eyes closed.

He waited until he was prepared and then opened his eyes and looked at his reflection. It took a moment for his sight to adjust but yes, yes, YES - he was a bloody vulture. Same hideous nose, same beady eyes, same evil countenance. "Oh god," he thought as felt a part of him die inside, "I am the same as them."

But then he shouted, shouted to the world. "I may look the same as them on the outside but that does not mean I have to be the same on the inside. I shall eat fruit and berries and seeds. I shall not be the same. I shall show everyone that however, whatever and wherever you are born you have a chance to be different, a chance to change."

A young leopard who had been listening nearby approached cautiously. "Is that true," he said quietly, "Do you really believe that we could be different, behave in different ways, eat different things."

"Yes I do," said Chris proudly. When he woke he found himself trapped in a small, damp and oppressively hot space.

"Hey," shouted Lawrence the Leopard, "I've just tried Vulture for the first time."

"What does it taste like?" said his father lounging near by.

"Turkey," said Lawrence a little disappointedly as he yawned and lay down