Jimmy's Thanksgiving

Jimmy was annoyed. For multiple reasons.
Reason number one:
Every year, school was cancelled for the week preceding Thanksgiving, A holiday Jimmy found almost entirely useless, excluding the break, of course, and here he was, wasting it helping his dumb parents make dumb pumpkin pie and bake a dumb turkey and rake dumb leaves instead of going to his dumb friends houses.
Reason number 2:
Today was his birthday. And it totally sucked. Not only was it completely overshadowed by the looming, noisy, sticky, monotonous, Oh-look-how-much-you’ve-grown-since-I-last-saw-you shadow of Turkey day, (Jimmy had heard this saying from his friends, who hated the holiday equally as much as he did.)
But he had also not gotten the only thing he really wanted, An SNES. All of his friends had one, And all of the coolest games for it. Meanwhile, here he was, stuck with the same old crummy Gameboy he’d had for two years. The dumb thing wasn’t even really his, he still had to share it with his dumb little sister. She didn’t even know how to play with it right, she would just smash the buttons randomly. He had made the unfortunate mistake to try and show off his skills at Tony Hawk to his friends without checking the cartridge first, and had ended up playing his sister’s copy of Kirby’s Dreamland, a mistake he had never lived down. The SNES was his last ever chance of regaining his lost popularity, but all of his pleading and nagging had been for naught. He couldn’t even show his face around school now. He told this to his mother, but she just blew him off and said some crap about his friends not being his real friends if they judged him by his material possessions.
Reason number 3:
Ok, well, there wasn’t a reason number 3, but I didn’t think two reasons would qualify for “Multiple.”
Anyway, Jimmy was annoyed. Life was unfair. He didn’t want to be stuck in the dumb house all freaking day with his family. Naturally his attitude didn’t improve at all. In fact, it got worse and worse as the day wore on. Eventually, when his mother asked him to take out the trash, he responded with something crude, and was given a stern talking to. His parents told him that they understood why he was annoyed. They had tried their best with the video game system, But money had been tight that year. And they knew that no kid wanted to be stuck indoors all day doing chores, but that was no excuse to be rude. They had told him that he would be thankful tomorrow, when thanksgiving dinner arrived, and he would reap the fruits of his labors. Jimmy said that was a load of horse s**t. This went on for a bit. Jimmy got his mouth washed out with soap, and was told to go to his room until he could be thankful for all of the things he already had. He sat in his room for the rest of the day, sulking. He certainly couldn’t see anything to be thankful for. Just what was he supposed to be thankful for? “I’m thankful that soap bars aren’t laced with cyanide?”
Eventually he fell asleep, as it was getting pretty late.
He woke a few hours later, which was the first of several strange occurrences. His awakening was strange, because Jimmy was usually an incredibly sound sleeper, his entire family were. They often made jokes about it at the dinner table. It was also strange because after they had had a fight, his parents would usually come up to his room and talk to him, after he had had a chance to calm down. Jimmy had only now realized that they hadn’t done that this time. Boy, they must’ve been really mad this time. Jimmy still didn’t think he had done anything wrong, but he figured it would be wise to apologize to them anyway. He slowly got out of bed, and he glanced at his Garfield alarm clock, (just thinking about the concept of a Garfield alarm clock made him chuckle) when he realized that it was eleven thirty. This struck him as being odd, due to the whole heavy sleeper thing I have previously detailed. He sat for a moment longer, wondering about this, before he decided to get out of bed anyway, for a snack, if nothing else. He was hungry, as he had been sent to bed without dinner.
Jimmy casually walked down the stairs, finding it a bit disorienting to find the house so dark, at such a contrast from the mid-sunset light it had been illuminated by when he had fallen asleep. He made his way into the kitchen, groped for the light switch, flicked it upward, and proceeded to the fridge. He opened it, his skin tingling at the sudden temperature drop. In he peered, seeing nothing of interest. Stuffing, Brussel sprouts, the loathsome pumpkin pie he had unwillingly helped to create, Honey glazed ham, and other healthy junk reserved strictly for thanksgiving, not that he would want it, anyway. He closed the fridge and turned to the counter, which provided a more palatable array of edibles. He grabbed a half-eaten bag of Doritos, opened it, and placed a few into his mouth. He turned around, surveying the rest of the house. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Past the counters, he could see the table, and past that, the living room. He groaned as he realized that staying in his room had made him miss the latest episode of Jerry, a show about some stick guy. It was a big deal, too, because before yesterday, there had only been four episodes that the networks reran constantly. Something about the guy who made them being too lazy to do any work. Yesterday had been monumental because they had actually released the first new episode in five years. It had been in the news for weeks. He shrugged it off, assuring himself that one of his friends had probably taped it. He then remembered the whole SNES fiasco, and realized, not only was he probably grounded for life, there was no way he could go over to his friends houses without them bringing up his birthday, and therefore, no way to avoid talking about the SNES, which he had been promising them he had been going to get for months.
As he mulled over the situation, his train of thought was derailed by how horrendously ugly the carpet in the kitchen was. It was green with red stripes. He wrinkled his face in disgust at the mere thought that anyone in this household had even allowed the slightest thought that the carpet could been brought anywhere near their house, let alone inside it.
In fact, the more he thought about the carpet, the more he failed to place the carpet in any previous memories, to the point where he became sure that he had never seen the carpet, nor one like it, in his entire life. His disgust reluctantly began top fade to curiosity, as he wondered where the carpet had come from. Who bought it? Did they buy it? Was it being given away? Did someone steal it? Why on earth would you ever steal such an abomination?
He stepped closer to the Carpet, inspecting it closely. The green color was not entirely unfamiliar, as many of the carpets in this house were that color. However, Jimmy was certain that no other carpet in the house had such disgustingly messy stripes. The carpet didn’t look like it had dyed carefully in a factory somewhere in China, as it’s tag claimed, it looked like someone had spraypainted the stripes on, in a poor effort to reinvent fashion. Heck, it didn’t even look like spray paint, it just looked like regular paint. His eyes followed the stripes up the carpet, and suddenly he realized that someone had painted the carpet. The stripes led right off of it. He shook his head, thinking that his sister must have done it, trying to play some kind of game. He took a few steps forward, and saw his sister, lying on the floor.
At first he thought that her supposed game was more recent the he had thought, but of course, that was silly. His sister, as well as possessing the heavy sleeper trait, had a very strict bedtime, making it improbable that she would have made this mess that very night.
The real solution was much more probable.
Her face was missing.
Jimmy stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend what his eyes had just told him.
And then he screamed.
In place of his sister’s face was a bloody hole, bone and various bits of muscle protruding from it. One of her optic nerves remained in place whilst her other was misplaced a few away from her, along with the chewed-up cartilage from her nose. Her teeth lay scattered about, wrenched free of her gums, which were nowhere to be found. 
Jimmy’s scream devolved into a series of coughs and shuddering breaths as he desperately tried to think, to assess the situation, to do anything other than to look at what used to be his sister. He forced his eyes to work again, and realized he had fell onto the floor, and was staring at the ceiling. He clung to this image and began to study it. There was a lot of dust. A single smoke detector with a small green light emitted from it. An air vent, gently waving a forgotten party streamer from years before. The more Jimmy focused on these small, insignificant details, the easier it became to breathe. The easier it was to breathe, the easier it was to think. He lay there for a few minutes, breathing increasingly slower breaths, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually, he decided that what he had seen in the kitchen must have been a trick of the light. Or a dream. It couldn’t have been real. That would be impossible. It just had to be.
And so, after a few minutes longer, he slowly got up from the floor, being careful not to look back at where the illusion had lain moments before. He decided that he would walk to the light switch, and turn it on. He hadn’t turned on the main light in the kitchen, in case his sister saw it through her cracked door and woke up. He now made his way back to the wall, taking each shaky step tentatively. When he was about two steps away from it, he broke into a sprint, slamming headfirst into the wall. After he was done rubbing his head, he turned on the light. And ever so slowly, he turned and began walking back to the spot.
Step.
He could see the counter.
Step.
The hideous rug.
Step.
The trail of bloo(PAINT)
Step.
He could almost see around the corner now.
He took one final step.
Nothing was there.
Jimmy breathed an immense sigh of relief, a big goofy grin breaking out on his face.
Everything was fine.
At least that was, until he raised his eyes a little further.
As it turned out, his sister actually was there. And she hadn’t disappeared, she’d moved.
Jimmy’s stomach did a backflip, and the barely digested Doritos barreled out of his mouth and onto the floor, along with most of his sanity. Not only was his sister’s mangled corpse still there, but it was now joined by his mother’s, his father’s, and one, very out of place, comedically large turkey. The turkey, who had been tasting a mix of Jimmy’s dad’s intestinal juice and fecal matter, turned its head toward the sound of Jimmy’s retching, and began to approach.
Jimmy abruptly looked up to see the Comedically large turkey charging towards him. He stood there like a deer in headlights and stared as the bloodstained bird, in one swift motion, lowered its head, and drove its beak directly into Jimmy’s right leg. Jimmy’s skull cracked against the linoleum tiles as the turkey approached. It was then when Jimmy’s delayed fight or flight instinct kicked in, and he got to his feet, sprinted around the counter, and into the living room. He desperately whipped his head right and left, looking for anything that could help him. His search proved useless, as the clack of his foe’s talons on the floor behind him. He took one last look around the room, and then bolted for the front door. He grabbed the deadbolt and twisted it backwards, and was about to do the same with the regular door lock when he felt the meat of his leg separating itself from the bone. He screamed again, sinking to the floor, as the turkey hungrily ripped his flesh apart, like jimmy had done to turkey legs at previous Thanksgivings. He clawed for the lock. His fingers slipped. He tried again. He heard the click ad the brass grove gave under the meager weight of his fingers. He grabbed the knob and slid his hand across it, opening the door, and in the process, rolling backwards, under the turkey. The door collided with the enormous avian, startling it, and it momentarily looked towards the now unblocked exit. Jimmy took advantage of this, and began crawling as fast as he could, leaving a crimson trail on the cold concrete walkway. He cried out in pain as his exposed nerve endings scraped across the ground, screaming for someone, anyone to come help him.
Nobody came.
He heard a crunch, and at first he thought it was him placing his hand down on one of those stupid little garden gnomes they had in their yard, but then, as the excruciating wave of pain shot across his leg, he realized that it was broken.
The turkey was chewing off his leg.
He began to feel dizzy. The cracking sounds coming from behind him began to swell with sick enthusiasm as the turkey got its first taste of Jimmy’s bone marrow. Jimmy’s vision began to grow dark, and he groped for anything. Anything at all. Something to feel to keep him conscious. His hand fell upon a rough wood surface, and it closed around it. Barely aware of what he was doing, with the last of his strength, he lifted it into the air, and brought it down on the turkey’s head. A blood curdling screech was heard, and hot, black liquid splattered the pavement, as jimmy blacked out.
Jimmy woke up in a hospital, bright lights blinding his vision. The nurse gave him some cold water, and he drank as if he had been in the Sahara for the past week.
When the police arrived at the house, they found the three corpses of Jimmy’s family members. Various blood trails and stains that the victims had been dragged from their beds and torn apart in the downstairs areas. the bodies appeared to have been picked apart with consideration, almost as if the killer had selected parts for use, too specific a selection for the killer to be an organ dealer. the current hypothesis was that the killer was a cannibal. At the front porch, they found Jimmy’s severed leg, still warm, but too damaged to reattach, an axe they had found jimmy holding when they had arrived, and a large puddle of viscous black liquid, leading into the grass. The liquid, after several chemical tests, was discovered to be made up of a mixture of sodium, iron, carbon, nitrogen, an obscene amount of cholesterol, and strangely enough, a single sprig of rosemary was found floating in one of the samples. No evidence was found to indicate where the liquid had come from, but it was thought that when Jimmy had swung the axe, he had cut through a plastic bag of some sort the killer had been holding containing the liquid.
Jimmy used his parent’s life insurance to buy a prosthetic leg, and was transferred to an orphanage. He continued to visit his Friends, and eventually, one of their parents adopted him. He started working at Circle K when he was sixteen, and quickly rose to the rank of manager. Some time later, He got married and had two wonderful kids. They were fairly standard kids, They liked to hang out with their friends, Mess around, and hated doing their chores, as most kids do. They shared their Father’s hate of the holiday thanksgiving, and often made jokes about it, but always helped their parent’s prepare for it, because it was their mother’s second favorite holiday, next to Christmas. One year, the children were upset, for one reason or another. Their parents told them about being grateful, they said it was horses**t, blah blah blah, you know the drill.
Later that night however, Jim’s wife was awakened by a sound down the hallway. She had never been a strong sleeper, but this sound would’ve woken anyone up.
This sound was a gunshot.
She arose with panic, and realized that her husband wasn’t in the bed any longer.
With dread in her heart, she crept down the hallway, where her children peered with frightened eyes into the living room.
There was Jim, holding a smoking shotgun, standing over what looked to be a very large bird, with a few key exceptions.
Its head was split down the middle, like somebody had sawed it in half, and from each side of the head, blackened gums grew, sporting a double row of shark like teeth, while two tendril like tongues sprawled from the crevice of the head.
It lay on the floor, its eyes glazed over, staring blankly at the children.
They all stood there in silence, until Jim grinned and said jovially,
“Looks like we have an extra turkey for thanksgiving tomorrow.”
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Holidays
Category:Beings
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Pointless Violence
Category:Animulz