Subject: Mister Turkey stooped into a bow
Posted on: 2017-07-20 23:19:41 UTC

it was slow, subtle, majestic. In a moment, the clumsy, pottering bowling ball had disappeared, and what remained was mysterious, tempting, esoteric. 'Call me-' And then all the lights went off, and he released a panicked grunt and stumbled somewhere and bumped someone who, also, released a panicked grunt, stumbled somewhere, hit someone else, causing them to release a panicked grunt, until the darkened room was echoing in a chain of panicked grunts and stumbles. He watched Cal's entire presentation, glanced at her red lipstick and thought 'how typical of Calliope!'

And when the lights came back on all the dignified grace he had somehow built up had long dissolved, and he looked up at the stranger and said: 'Uhr, I'm Mister Turkey. But not, bloody, the warbling chicken-thing Americans celebrate sometimes, it's when you get three strikes in a row. In bowling. So it's victory. I've essentially called myself "victory."' He wondered, for a moment, why he didn't just call himself 'victory,' as opposed to a warbling chicken-thing Americans celebrated sometimes. He looked back at the stranger. He grinned, took their hand, shook firmly. 'So what am I meant to call you?'

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