About 6-7 years ago, my dad received a phone call from the elders that were serving in our ward in Nebraska. I was close by and I could hear frantic noises in the background.
I wasn't able to glean much of what was going on. After the brief phone call my dad told me how their phone call went.
"Hey Boshop Kemper, do you know how to dress a turkey?"
"Of course, what's going on?" My dad replied with wonder.
"We just got one and we didn't know what to do with it. " The elder on the phone was freaking out.
"Is it dead?" My dad asked, he was half joking.
Their frantic reply met my dads sarcasm, "We don't know!"
My dad's simple wisdom told them, "Bring it over and we will check it out."
A few minutes later the missionaries Malibu came down our driveway. When they got out neither one wanted to open the trunk. After some coaxing from my dad, the elders opened up their trunk to a very dead turkey.
My dad is very much like the Pharisees of old, he is a big rule follower, so it totally freaked him out to dress the turkey without knowing if he was treading over the law. But that was the quickest I have ever seen anyone dress a turkey.
After the deed was done, my dad called his good friend, Tom to see if keeping a hit turkey was legal. It turned out that it wasn't and Tom told my dad to throw it all away.
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