Gobble! Gobble!

Sorry but I can't take any chances -- I'm not eating tainted turkey. And neither is any member of my beloved family (no, not even the in-laws).  With the recent outbreak of salmonella, I'm in desperate search of  good, sound turkey -- from somewhere out of state.  "Uh, there's bad turkey in 26 states, sir."  Doesn't matter -- I'll go international if I have to.  "How do you say 'turkey' in Turkey?"  I have  various strategies planned out, too, in my quest for edible turkey:  "Excuse me, Mr. Turkey, I don't mean to pry but... have you been tested for salmonella lately?"  That's right, I'll start with the kind and considerate approach and hope that works:  "Uh, Mr. Turkey, it would be an honor and a privilege to have you over for dinner."  Now, if  the "Mr.Nice Guy" move doesn't work, I'll have to turn to less subtle measures, something more direct... "Honey, where's my musket?"  That's right -- I'll hunt down the damn bird myself if I have to!  I have no other choice -- I need my turkey club sandwich, see?!  Lots of protein and tryptophan for a good night's sleep.  Beside, the kids have to eat something other than corn dogs once in awhile, right?  "Daddy, aren't you supposed to thaw them first?"  As head of the household,  it's my duty and obligation to bring  home the bacon -- in this case, turkey.  "Hey, it's nothing personal, Mr. Turkey."  Why, I'll do whatever's necessary to put the nervous bird at ease, in a so-called 'happy place':  "Hon, where's my pilgrim's outfit? -- and you may want to put on an apron and bonnet yourself."  Trust me, folks, I know what I'm doing.  I'll go to the far reaches of the earth for my family... "Daddy, I'm craving a juicy snake sandwich..."  Snake... uh... "How 'bout some cotton candy instead?"