Also, every morning, his wife would admonish him: “One of these days you’re going to burst your guts out.”
It’s Thanksgiving morning. The old man is sleeping in, and the old lady is in the initial steps of preparing the turkey. While she has a handful of turkey innards, she gets an idea:
She tiptoes up the stairs and into the bedroom.
She carefully pulls back the waistband of her husband’s jockey shorts and loads him up with warm turkey guts.
An hour later, the woman hears him stirring.
She hears his feet hit the floor and the expected boom-laugh sequence. The laugh stops abruptly and is followed by a scream and then 10 minutes of utter silence.
The man eventually comes down the stairs. His face is pale, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and bewilderment. He sits down at the breakfast table without a word, his usual cheeky grin nowhere to be found. His wife struggles to keep a straight face as she pours him a cup of coffee.
Finally, after a long sip, he breaks the silence.
“Well, you were right,” he mutters, his voice trembling. “All these years, you told me my guts would burst out one day, and… and this morning, they did.”
His wife bites her lip to stop herself from laughing. “Oh, dear,” she says, feigning concern. “What did you do?”
He looks at her with the solemnity of a man who has just faced death itself. “I shoved them back in,” he whispers. “I shoved them all back in.”
At that, his wife couldn’t hold it in any longer. She bursts into laughter, tears streaming down her face, while her husband stares at her, slowly realizing he’s been had.
“That’s it!” he says, shaking his head with a grin breaking through his initial shock. “Fifty years, and you finally got me good. But just you wait—I’ll get my revenge!”
From that day forward, Thanksgiving wasn’t just about turkey and pie—it was about who could out-prank whom before dinner was served.
