Turkey Rasslin'

Got my Thanksgiving turkey today. A 19 pounder frozen solid. Ever notice just how freakin' heavy a frozen turkey is? The big turkeys always migrate to the bottom of the pile which necessitates me leaning over the freezer chest, butt in the air, shoving aside smaller birds while trying to find one large enough to feed the men. Since turkeys don't come in ostrich size, we'll have to make do with a 19 pound one. Which is good because I could hardly haul that one out of the freezer.
There I was, hand gripping the handle of the net bag that enclosed it, leaning backward at an unseemly angle hoping to drag the turkey out. As the angle narrowed I had visions of the turkey suddenly flying up and out of the chest, over my head, and onto the floor, sliding down the aisle with me being dragged along behind it, scattering little old ladies as I went.
There are a lot of little old ladies in this grocery store. Little old ladies who stand in the middle of an aisle, gaping at the shelves, not moving. Are they thinking, had they forgotten what they were looking for, or had they died and just hadn't fallen over yet? So knocking them over like bowling pins would have been likely if the turkey had gotten away from me. It didn't, get away from me I mean, and I won. The turkey now resides in my freezer downstairs.