What started with #TheSagaofGary and continued with #TheSagaofFred is about to become a new, as yet untitled saga about an unmet bird who has probably met its demise and is now chilling in a grocer's freezer as I type.

Will it be better than those? Probably not. Will it be as stupid? Definitely. Will it be as random and perplexing? I'd guess so. I would defer responsibility, but it's definitely my fault.

And so it begins. Turn away if you aren't into eating dead birds.

For a little context, it is tradition in my family for me to prepare the Thanksgiving turkey, and it's a job that I take a little too seriously.

For all of the context, search for the #TheSagaofGary or #TheSagaofFred, find the first instances of those hashtags, tap on the Show Thread link below them, and scroll all the way to the top.

I apologize in advance.

This year's bird has not yet been selected, but I am pretty sure it has already met its demise. Probably. That it might still be alive is a fun premise, so we will leave that to be an unlikely possibility.

If so, it's very unhappy, bound in industrial plastic, and freezing its ass off.

It definitely didn't sign up for any of this.

I haven't even seen it yet, but I'm picturing the bleached combination of fluorescent and LED lighting scrubbing the shadows out of a frozen trough that is filled with turkeys of various sizes.

They're watching the passersby, trying to get their attention and hoping that they'll go to a good home. It is known among the birds that there are bad homes, with unskilled cooks who will ruin their preparation and render their deaths to be in vain.

One among them is mine, and soon to become a legend.

It's probably pretty sad right now. It's been hoping to be chosen all day, and no one has grabbed it.

That's alright. It'll be okay. Probably.

I bet they can tell who the unskilled cooks are just by looking at them, and whisper among themselves about the poor turkeys who ended up going home with them.

They don't have names yet, so they probably address each other by weight, and laugh and laugh when one of them gets accidentally dropped by a careless shopper.

I'm pretty sure they judge the contents of everyone's carts as they pass by, especially if they aren't buying turkeys.

That's right Alan. They're in shocking disbelief that you're about to purchase six cans of Hormel chili, and they're both mocking you relentlessly and praying that you won't come back for any of them.

(Oh, you can choose to mute this conversation if you've seen enough. I won't blame you. The unmet birds won't either. How could they?)

The biggest bird is probably having an especially difficult day as various spouses demand its return to the freezer.

The last one was heard muttering, "of course the oven is big enough" with a scowl as he opted for a marginally smaller bird.

There's always one that thinks it knows more than the others.

Last night, all of the frozen turkeys listened to a pep talk that was held in the seasonings aisle. The keynote was given by Morton's Kosher Salt.

The fresh herbs were invited, but refused to attend because they're kind of elitist.

Listening to speeches is hard for frozen turkeys, on account of their having lost the ability to nod their heads in agreement.

Luckily, the Morton's are very familiar with their condition, so they don't feel too bad when they receive zero applause.

Turkey No. 29.6 is much larger than the rest of the birds in the freezer bay. He was especially moved by the part about "being one with the brine," and is currently practicing his mediation so that he will be ready for his last bath ever.

It is a little known fact that turkeys also have elections.

This year they had a chance to make duck the traditional poultry served, but a little over half of them voted for turkeys on the basis of 'making turkey great again.'

They didn't regret their decisions until the very end.

To be completely honest, none of them can remember exactly what that one turkey said, but he seemed like a charismatic fellow who tells it like it is.

Sorry I forgot to hashtag that one for the folks who are trying to avoid turkey politics.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's as dark as it is amusing, if you really think about it.

I keep a Turkey Captain's Log that tracks everything I have ever done to every turkey since Gary. Gary himself was not logged, but that's mostly because the crafty f*cker made me sign an NDA first.

In case you're wondering, yes. #TheSagaofGary definitely violates Gary's NDA, but it was a calculated risk.

His legal representation sucks. I mean, they're all turkeys. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm trying to decide when exactly to pick up this year's bird. I'm thinking either later tonight or very early tomorrow.

The longer I wait, the bigger the risk. I'm sure there are plenty of birds, but they're probably part of a secret turkey underground that has them whispering secrets for how to sabotage Thanksgiving.

Turkey No. 14.6 just told Turkey No. 12.1 that if he's really quick about it, he can hurl a chunk of carrot directly at the oven's "bake" button, thereby turning off the oven.

14.6 is sure that this would give them enough time to escape before being cooked to their second demise, but 12.1 is pretty sure that 14.6 is completely full of shit.

(In case you forgot, they don't have names yet, so they refer to each other by number of pounds.)

Some of these arguments would definitely come to blows, you know. If they weren't tightly wrapped in industrial food packaging and confined to their risque yellow plastic netting.

These two will go on and on back and forth like this until someone collects one of them.

Odds are pretty good that they won't get brined at all. #womp

The ideal weight of this year's bird is about 14lbs. Gary was about 12.5lbs and Fred was a giant at 23lbs. By the end of Thanksgiving last year, we had about half of him left.

Don't get me wrong, he was delicious, but there's definitely a limit to the enjoyment of turkey leftovers.

You definitely want the leftover turkey sandwich. Twice, if you can manage it. Turkey tetrazzini is also a good bet, but right about the time you're making fried leftover turkey tacos is when you really start to question the wisdom of cooking up Big Bird.

I've been thinking this whole time that Thanksgiving is this coming Thursday.

I haven't even chosen the bird yet and it's already messing with my faculties. From the grocer's freezer. Miles away.

That checks out. The turkey gods are probably very unhappy with me.

It is a lesser known fact that turkeys hate Mondays too.

Some people have ham for Thanksgiving.

This thread would probably be a lot funnier if it were about pigs, but nah.

This post is a brief moment of silence for the potatoes that are also going to be murdered for the sake of Thanksgiving.

Unless you read it aloud, then it's not.

Frozen turkeys also get into raucous disagreements, which is kind of unfortunate because in the end, none of them wins.