A Wild Turkey For Thanksgiving ~ A Denny's® Story

A Wild Turkey For Thanksgiving ~ A Denny's® Story

Beginning Note:

Some of the people in this story may seem familiar or real, I guarantee that they are all figments of someone's imagination, well most of them anyway. Some of them may be real, they maybe not. Have fun figuring out who is and who isn't.

 My name is John Q. Public, and I am a fourty something semiretired Tech Guru. I finally got fed up with the Silicon Valley Rat Race, sold Investment Business for Boo Koo Bucks. I pulled up my roots and headed to the Pacific Northwest. I wasn't worried about money as I was taking my Website Creation & Management Business, as well as my Technical Consulting Business with me. All I needed to run those businesses was a good Internet connection, and I was good to go.

Since I didn't have a spot to settle down in mind, I purchased a fully loaded Motorhome and headed north. I decided to take the scenic route and headed towards Reno and then north towards Winnemucca, and then to either Boise Idaho or Portland Oregon.

I barely made it to Winnemucca before I crashed. I found a casino that had RV spaces and pulled in. I took a short nap, and then headed into the Casino for some dinner, maybe a show, and some slots. I had a wonderful dinner, Prime Rib, with Stuffed Baked Potato, and Balsamic and Bacon Brussels Sprouts. A glass of a very good California Cabernet topped off the meal perfectly. Unfortunately, the combo of the meal and the wine started me yawning, so I decided to call it a night and headed back to my RV to sleep. I had picked up a few dollar coins on the way in, so I thought I'd drop a few in one of the $ Slots by the door. Well, it seems that I was destined to stop there; I was getting ready to head out the door as I dropped my last dollar coin in. I stood there in absolute shock as bells, and whistles, as well as a bunch of horns and flashing lights,  went off. I swear that I almost needed a new pair of pants and a pacemaker. The cacophony of sounds and lights was astounding. Just before I passed out from sensory overload, a Manager and several Security Guards arrived; the Manager quickly inserted his key, and voilà peace and quiet. Well, relative peace and quiet, this was a casino after all. The Security Guards quickly formed a cordon around the Manager and me. One of the Security Guards started picking up the coins that were spilling out of the now silent machine. Before the Manager could get a word out a waiter handed me another glass of the glorious Cabernet I had with my dinner. The waiter just said compliments of the house and vanished as quickly as he had appeared. I took a sip of the wine to give me a few moments to get my thoughts together.

'Why is the Manager here I could have handled the coins myself? I mean it is only a few thousand dollars...'

My musings were interrupted by the Manager speaking,


"Public, John Q."

"Mr. Public, My name is Boudreaux Cajun, and if you would follow me to my office, you can sign the paperwork and collect your Cheque, or you can give me your deposit information, and we will electronically deposit the rest of your winnings in us the necessary taxes and fees of course." I interrupted Mr. Cajun by asking,

"What do you mean the rest of my winnings, isn't this all of it?" I then pointed to the mountain of coin filled containers.

"Oh no, Mr. Public that is only pocket change...."

"If that is pocket change, and by the way how much is the pocket change?”  I asked him now getting tons of butterflies in my stomach.

"The coins total $5,247.00 and that is really only a pittance of the total Jackpot that you won. Now if you would please follow me to my office, we can conduct the rest of our business in a more private and secure location. My Assistant AC will go with the Security Guards to the Cashier and cash the coins in for you. Would like Cash, Chips, or Casino Credits?" Mr. Cajun inquired with a warm-looking smile.

"Ah cash will be fine, which way is your office, I really need to sit down." Mr. Cajun or Boudreaux as he asked me to call him led the way to his very plush office buried deep in the innards of the Casino. Over an hour later I left his office even more shell-shocked than when I went in. Not only did Boudreaux deposit the rest of my winnings into my checking account he also sent all the pertinent information to my accountant. Not only that, but he made a phone call, and one of the Casino's legal beagles/bean counter came in and filed all the tax forms for me as well. Once all that was done, Boudreaux handed me a Gold Credit Card and welcomed me to the Casino's Platinum VIP Club. He told that the card had a $50,000 credit balance, and that there would always be a VIPP Suite waiting for me whenever I care to visit. As he had finished explaining that, his Assistant AC knocked, and the entered and handed me a very expensive looking leather case. The case looked like my old Daytimer case.

"Here is your cash Mr. Public." With that, AC pulled his vanishing act again.

Boudreaux then got out of his plush office chair and came around his desk to shake my hand. He then went on to say blah, blah, blah. He then escorted me to the Casino floor and said goodbye and good luck with my future endeavours. As I started towards the exit AC magically appeared again.

"Mr. Public, it would be my pleasure to escort you to your RV as a further token of the Casino's gratitude."

We quietly walked to my RV and when we reached the RV, we shook hands, and said our goodbyes. I then turned around and unlocked my RV, I turned around to ask AC a question and he had vanished, just as if he had never existed. I crawled into bed and the world didn't exist for the next fourteen hours. Once I was awake enough, I started the coffee and then headed toward my new shower. I took a quick one because the water heater wasn't very large. I then took care of my other morning rituals. Now clean and feeling on top of the world I headed to the Casino for their free Buffet Breakfast, however, I never go there. As soon as I walked into the Casino a gentleman in a snazzy suit walked up to me and introduced himself as Mr. Eggy and that he was the MOD, or Manager on Duty and that he would like to escort Mr. Public to the VIP Dining Room and that Breakfast was on the house. He ended up having a stupendous breakfast of Southwest Eggs Benedict, the Canadian Bacon, Poached Eggs, and English Muffin were topped with a slice of Extra Sharp White Cheddar Cheese, and an exquisite velvety smooth Chipotle Hollandaise Sauce. Since he was going to be driving after breakfast, he begged off the Mimosas and settle for a Grande Mocha Latte. While eating he was reading one of the Travel Magazines lying around. He found an article about how Halfway Oregon, had become Halfway.com Oregon, the town sounded interesting, so he decided to skip Boise and head to Halfway.

Halfway.com Oregon:

Three months later found John completely settled in, he had purchased a good-sized farmhouse just outside of town on a few acres. Halfway still had their FIOS up and running, he had signed up and now had a great Internet connection and his businesses were going like gangbusters. He never had to visit his clients he just had video conferences with them.

Life was going well so far, he was enjoying the slower pace of life, and the beautiful countryside. In fact, he had bought a horse and took many rides around the area when he didn't need to be sitting in front of his computer. In fact, now that Thanksgiving was nearing, he was severely missing his older brother Patrick H. Public. Over the years since they had graduated from college, they had established a 'family' tradition of sorts to celebrate Thanksgiving. No matter where they were, they always met at a Denny's® for Thanksgiving Dinner and celebrated with a snort or two of Wild Turkey. They were determined to keep up the tradition no matter what. In fact, two of the years they actually used FaceTime on their iPads while they ate, so they could celebrate together. During the meal, they enjoyed a nice glass or three of Pinot Grigio. While they were enjoying their hot apple pie with a slice of extra sharp white cheddar cheese, they toasted each other with a glass of Wild Turkey neat.

Unfortunately, this year would be John's first year without Patrick Henry around to celebrate. John wasn't going to give in to melancholy his year though, he was still going to eat Thanksgiving Dinner at the local Denny's®, it seems that they built a Denny's® in town during the  Dot Com heyday and it was still running, well; it had the same name, anyway. As far as John was concerned that was good enough.

John entered the sparsely occupied restaurant and took his usual seat; it was just before five pm and an hour before closing. The waitress Flo flounced up to the table and leeringly asked for his order. John replied,

"I'll start with a Wild Turkey."

Flo gave him the strangest look and then said,

"I think we are out, but let me check with the Kitchen," She then wandered off shaking her head the whole way.

Meanwhile, John was sitting there perplexed as all get out. He couldn't figure out what Flo's problem was. Surely a bottle of Wild Turkey wasn't that big of a problem, or was it?

Finally, about ten minutes later, Flo returned carrying what looked like a rifle bag. She sat the bag on the table in front of me, and then said,

"If you want a Wild Turkey go get it yourself." She then turned around and headed back to the kitchen.

I unzipped the bag and in it was a double-barrel shotgun.

So that was how one Thanksgiving Dinner Family Tradition ended and a new one began.


P.S. I got my Wild Turkey that night ;)

Author's Note:

Part of the story is true, and a lot of it isn't. It is partially based on a story told to me by a friend, however, the rest of the words are my fault. I had a lot of fun writing this story, and I didn't have any Wild Turkey. L

Happy Thanksgiving,