Boris the Sock and the Underwear Stealing Ghost presents
Let’s Talk Turkey
by Fern S. Davant and Cynthia Stout

Boris is the resident entertainer. His talents include song, dance, and overall mischief-making. His manager, Miss Fern S Davant, and his owner, Miss Cynthia Stout, bestow their utmost love upon their darling sock. Fern sold him to Cynthia over the enchanted sock black market at a horribly marked up price, but Cynthia and Fern have been friends and co-owners since then, training him to be a performer and anxiety reliever for all residents of Gryffindor Tower. His adventures are sure to provide hours of entertainment as he haplessly walks into trouble at every turn of his Hogwarts experience.

"I want a big plump juicy tender one. With everything that is associated with all that, " Missa said grinning at Boris, Cynthia, and Fern. After having tried to steal Missa's C-4 they now had to make a large authentic Thanksgiving Turkey as punishment. "Oh, and I want it basted," Missa added with a cheeky wink, "Basted with 'butterbeer' if you know what i mean."

Thus began Cynthia, Fern, and Boris's Thanksgiving holiday--in the kitchen. They were to make a Thanksgiving banquet fit for the queen of Gryffindor without the use of house elves (Missa had decided that they just weren't big enough to suit her needs).

"OOOOH what's this?" Fern inquired, bustling around the kitchen and being a general nuisance. Cynthia had tied on an apron and was trying to look intelligent in the way of all things gourmet.

"Don't touch that, its the baster, and here's the baste." Fern leaned towards the bowl Cynthia had in her outstretched arms, sniffing it delicately.

"OMG, what's in it," Fern coughed, "It smells like it could set water on fire."

"'Butterbeer'," Cynthia said with a wink, as Fern grabbed the baster and went for a taste. "Well, I know all Gryffs enjoy their bit of 'butterbeer' every once in a while. Just be careful Fern. A little bit can go a long way," cautioned Cynthia as Fern drowned herself in the fiery concoction.

Cynthia turned around to work on the turkey a bit more and when she turned to ask Fern for some herbs, what did she spy but Fern bathing herself in the baste. "Oh no, no, no! That's not what you do with the baste! That rum was really expensive black seal!"

"Donch shoe worry Syn, I can handle meh 'butterbeer'", Fern hiccuped. She grabbed the large plump turkey laying on the counter and began inspecting it. "Hey, look Cyn. They people from the turkey company gave us a present," she said holding up a large bag of turkey innards. "I found it in this secret compartment!!"

"FERN!!! Those are the giblets, and that secret compartment is where turkeys.....turkeys...that’s where babies come from!!!" Boris said as he hopped up to the kitchen counter. Fern let out a high pitched scream and flung the giblets, where they hit Cynthia in the face as she preheated the oven.

Cynthia whipped around shrieking. "You two need to cut it out! Some of us are serious about getting some of this work done! Now jeez! Fern, go sit in a corner where you can't hurt yourself. Boris, would you mind helping me with this turkey? It's ready to be put in the oven but it's a bit too heavy."

"WAIT!!!" Boris said shaking his head, "Haven't you two girls ever made a turkey? You have to stuff it first!”

"Oh, well yes, I guess that would be right. Would you two mind helping me? This is the fun part Fern! I don't think even you could screw it up!"

"Stuff it?" asked Fern taking another generous gulp from the baster, "Stuff it where?"

Boris shook his head slowly, "Why do I have to be the brains of this operation. Stuff it in the 'secret compartment' of course!"

Fern let out a shriek, "I'm not sticking my hands in there! Can't we just put a broomstick in there to make a quidditch motif?"

"But Fern, that's illegal in thirty-seven states. Are we sure we want to put the broomsticks there???"

"Missa's liberal, she won’t mind."

"Well then, if you're sure, let's stuff it in! Come on! These babies are BIG! I need all the help I can get," panted Cynthia as she attempted stuffing the broomsticks into the turkey's rear.

"Here, use my broomstick Cyn. It’s a Nimbus 2000. This baby has so much power it'll blow right through that turkey at take-off,” offered Fern, holding out her broomstick.

“Haven’t you two had enough bad experiences shoving sticks up rears?" Boris interjected.

"Well Not really Boris, please share your infinite wisdom in that matter," Cynthia replied.

"Put the broom in AFTER the cooking, otherwise you'll have a flaming pointy stick up your turkeys rear!!! Now help me get this greasy bird in."

Boris grabbed Fern's wand, as she was unable to use it herself. Using it, he attempted to coerce the turkey into the oven. All of the sudden, however, the turkey up and started dancing, spewing "butterbeer" all over the place. "GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE" Fern jumped up, removing her face from the basting bowl. Cyn stepped back suddenly afraid of the perilous bird. Boris was not so lucky however. Scrambling to get away, the killer turkey tripped over him and sat down hard on him. When he got up and started chasing Fern and Cyn around, there was no sign of Boris, except for cotton strands on the end of the turkey's rear.

Cyn chased the bird around, tripping over cords, potatoes flying every which way. Finally, after having accidentally running into the shelf of spices, the turkey was overcome with a sneezing fit. Cyn took this opportunity to corral the turkey into the oven, Fern giggling in her corner all the while.

"Goo shjob Syn!" Fern slurred, trying to get up. She staggered and ended up on the floor, drooling.

"Aw, poor Fern. She's all tuckered out,” Cyn said as she covered Fern's head with a sheet.

Two hours later, Cynthia levitated the turkey and the slightly unsteady Fern into Missa's dorm room with a large grin on her face. Missa was seated at a large table already digging into mashed potatoes. "Here it is," Cyn presented placing the turkey gently on the table, and Fern not as gently on the floor. Missa took a large carving knife, and began cutting the bird, careful to avoid the large broomstick sticking up into the air. Suddenly, from out of the turkey came a charred and chagrined Boris.

"Boris!!" Cynthia screamed in surprise.

"Mmph" Fern murmured from the floor.

"Oh Boris! I wondered where you'd escaped to! When the turkey tripped over you, Boris, he must have sat on you and absorbed you into his secret compartment! Oh no! Poor Boris! We must have mutilated you with the broomstick poking! We're so sorry! We were just trying to make a pretty turkey for Missa!" Cynthia frantically explained.

"UGH," Missa moaned, an angry glint in her eyes, "I wanted a normal thanksgiving, instead I get a freaky one."

"But Missa," Fern groaned in a far-off voice, "You are a freak." Missa looked angry for a bit, but as she turned this over in her head she smiled. "Come on everybody," Fern said as she staggered up from the floor, "Let's get the baster!!! We can still make the most of this Thanksgiving yet!"

And so, the three friends, and the devil, all retreated into the happy world of alcoholic turkey basting. Later, as Boris nursed his headache he was sure that this was the best Thanksgiving he had ever experience, but then he was only a year old.