In the oven, the turkey smirks,
its golden skin glistening like polished brass.
The gravy simmers, brown and sly,
plotting a coup behind the mashed potato mass.
I dip the ladle in, ready to serve,
but the gravy leaps: a slippery curve!
It lands on the green beans, then pirouettes,
takes down a stuffing tower in daring pirouettes.
The cranberry sauce waves a red flag,
“Stand back, mere mortals, this gravy will nag!”
Silverware rebels, forks somersault in fright,
while the dog dons a bib, ready for the fight.
Aunt Marge attempts rescue with heroic flair,
yet the gravy dodges like it just doesn’t care.
Grandma grabs a spatula, Dad a tea towel,
the kitchen’s now a gladiator’s foul.
And in this arena of chaos, mess, and delight,
we cheer as the gravy takes flight.
No bonus, no paycheck, no tidy display:
just the sticky, glorious, messy ballet.
INSTANT NOODLES 