# THE TURKENING [INTRO — RAIN ON WINDOWS. KNIFE SCRAPES CERAMIC. DISTANT THUNDER. THREE CROOKED COUNTRY FIDDLE NOTES.] [FEMALE VOICE — LOW, OMINOUS, SPOKEN.] We thought we'd eaten him. We thought the worst was through. But something in the cornfield Kept a little list of who. [TRANSITION — ELEVEN MONTHS LATER. WIND HOWLS THROUGH DEAD CORN. DRY LEAVES SCRAPE THE PORCH. DISTANT HALLOWEEN BELLS. BACK DOOR SLAMS.] [VERSE 1 — CREEPING APPALACHIAN COUNTRY HORROR. SPARSE CLAWHAMMER BANJO, UNEASY FIDDLE, UPRIGHT BASS.] Daddy picked the bird out, Mama stuffed him full, Grandma basted him with butter, tied his little legs tight, Then shoved him in the oven to roast that bird just right. But when we opened up the oven door, that son of a bitch had escaped. He tore across the kitchen, left the gravy on the wall, Went flying through the screen door, feathers floating down the hall. We laughed until the morning. Said he'd never make it through. But that bird remembered everything. And he remembered YOU. [PRE-CHORUS — HEARTBEAT BASS. FIDDLE SCRAPES. WIND RATTLES THE WINDOWS.] Eleven months of hiding. Eleven months alone. Now the witches ride the midnight wind, And something's coming home. The jack-o'-lanterns flicker. The scarecrow turns its head. Trick-or-treaters run screaming When the turkey leaves the shed. [SHORT FIDDLE BREAK. THREE QUICK BANJO NOTES. BAND STOPS DEAD.] [CHORUS — EXPLOSIVE CREEPY COUNTRY. WILD FIDDLE, RAGGED BANJO, WALKING BASS, HONKY-TONK PIANO, STOMPING BOOTS. STRAIGHT, DRIVING RHYTHM. NO DUB OR REGGAE.] THE TURKENING! HE'S BACK AGAIN! HE KNOWS YOUR NAME, HE KNOWS WHERE YOU'VE BEEN! THE TURKENING! THERE'S HELL TO PAY! YOU HAD HIM FOR SUPPER — NOW YOU'RE ON THE MENU TODAY! RUN, DADDY, RUN! BETTER LOCK THAT DOOR! MAMA, HE'S SCRATCHING THROUGH THE KITCHEN FLOOR! YOU THOUGHT HE WAS DINNER, YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD WON! NOW THE BIRD'S GOT A HATCHET AND THE HUNT'S BEGUN! [INSTANT SILENCE. WIND. A LOOSE SHUTTER BANGS.] [VERSE 2 — SNEAKY BACKWOODS COUNTRY. DRY BANJO, WALKING BASS, CROOKED FIDDLE.] The kids came up for candy, but the porch was dark and bare, A scarecrow in Daddy's denim jacket stood and watched them from the stair. The pumpkin on the railing had a carving sharp and mean: Two little beady turkey eyes and the words, "YOU OWE ME GREEN." Daddy finds his truck tires slashed, his shotgun's gone, A trail of feathers through the fog leads where the graveyard lanterns shine. Mama finds her wedding dress nailed up against a tree, With two little turkey footprints where the veil used to be. [CHURCH BELL. TWO LOW PIANO NOTES. FIDDLE SLIDES INTO DISSONANCE.] Grandma's in the pantry with a carving knife in hand, The turkey's at the window like a preacher making plans. He taps the glass three times, then leaves a note in red: "YOU SAID A LITTLE PRAYER BEFORE YOU ATE MY HEAD." [BREAKDOWN — MUSIC STOPS. THREE SLOW KNOCKS. FLOORBOARD CREAK. LONG SILENCE.] [TURKEY — DEEP, ALMOST HUMAN WHISPER. SPOKEN.] Daddy? [PAUSE. FLOORBOARD CREAKS.] Remember what you said? [FEMALE WHISPER.] He said a little prayer. [TURKEY — AMUSED SOUTHERN DRAWL. SPOKEN.] Well, bless your heart. [DOOR HANDLE TURNS. HINGES GROAN. DOOR OPENS. DEAD SILENCE.] [FINAL CHORUS — FULL, ROWDY HALLOWEEN COUNTRY. WILD FIDDLE, BANJO, HONKY-TONK PIANO, THUMPING BASS, STOMPING BOOTS. BIG DOWNBEATS.] THE TURKENING! THE DEAD OF NIGHT! THE TURKEY'S OUT AND THE MOON IS WHITE! THE TURKENING! NO TRICK, NO TREAT! THERE'S A HATCHET-WIELDING BIRD ON YOUR HALLOWEEN STREET! DADDY'S IN THE CHIMNEY! MAMA'S ON THE ROOF! GRANDMA'S GOT A SHOTGUN BUT THE BIRD'S GOT PROOF! YOU BASTED HIS BODY, YOU STUFFED HIM WITH SAGE! NOW HE'S COME TO COLLECT AND HE'S FULL OF RAGE! [FINAL BAND HIT. INSTANT SILENCE.] [OUTRO — WIND THROUGH DEAD CORN. DISTANT CHURCH BELL. FREEZER HUM. SLOW FOOTSTEPS.] [FEMALE VOICE — COLD, SPOKEN.] We found Daddy's jacket hanging in the hall. We found Mama's footprints climbing up the wall. We found Grandma's carving knife stuck into the door. But the turkey... [LONG SILENCE. FREEZER HUM GROWS LOUDER.] ...wasn't hungry anymore. [FREEZER DOOR CREAKS. COLD AIR HISS. SILENCE.] [TURKEY — POLITE, ALMOST HUMAN WHISPER. SPOKEN.] Trick or treat? [ONE LOW, DISSONANT COUNTRY FIDDLE NOTE. HARD CUT TO SILENCE.]
