the smuggler’s bible

Turkey Tom

Smile. Wave. Toss some candy from the parade float. Pretend there isn’t a gun to your head.

Turkey Tom looks at his reflection in the stubby little glass. It’s like peering into a well. A long, long way down, sure, but nothing compared to the distance he’s already come.

“There isn’t a gun, really,” he says. Nobody is listening, but he continues anyway. “It’s all finished. Why would he threaten me? What’s left to take?”

Dignity.

“Uh huh,” Turkey Tom says to his reflection. “Put that between yourself and the sleigh when it comes hurtling down the calendar at you.”