Falling flakes swirl in the Detroit sky, layering the streets and sidewalks in a crunchy coating. The wind whipped through the alley, creating snow drifts that seemed to climb the walls. Moose, after drawing the short straw, was stuck outside as doorman for the festivities.  You see, every year, the ford factory has this big thanksgiving party for their workers, and every year friends of ours have opened up a bar next door and made a killing. Several Detroit tough guys were already inside getting buzzed when something strange began to occur across the country.

The bell tolls twelve and a witches cackle echoes across the streets, followed by the sound of slamming doors.

Moose had his hands cupped around a cigarette for warmth. He checked his watch before scanning the alley, the frost must have stuck the gears as his read 10:30, surely a sign he'd been out there too long. He see's a man in a monkey suit strutting toward him. Moose knocks on the door before engaging him, convinced this is a hallucination brought on by hypothermia.

"Trick or Treat!" The monkey man begins eyeing Moose up and down before locking on his watch

"It's Novemb-" CRACK Moose's sentence is cut short as a blinding pain flares in his shin. Sending him to the ground, getting a face full of snow and gravel. He quickly stands to find the monkey man skipping up the alley twirling the watch in his fingers. Moose reaches for his .45 in his jacket pocket and lets a round off

ZIP

It grazes his shoulder, the monkey grabs at his wound before another shot lands in his leg. Determined to make his way to the edge of the alley, the monkey doesn't stop. He limps mercilessly, pushing himself towards freedom. Three more rounds tear into his back, the Trick or Treater now lays lifeless on the ground. Moose walks over to him reclaiming his possession. The noise had attracted some of the workers and muscle from inside the speakeasy. Joej and SneakyPeach saw the scene and immediately began moving the body to a more private location.

Moose, frozen from both temperature and confusion takes in everything and asks the only question he could pull from his brain

"Did I just shoot a monkey at high noon?"

"Uh, I think it was just a guy in a monkey suit" Joej replies. Deciding to lift the corpse with their back instead of their legs.

"Sure... That makes- That makes much more sense. I don't know how much weirder today can get" Moose says, shaking a smoke from his pack and into his mouth

The three wrap up what is left of the crime and the booze house, and split ways, along with the earnings of half a successful party.

Moose ducks into a taxi headed for "anywhere as long as the heater was running" and began to take in the snowy wonderland, baffled by the sheer amount of crazy people in the city adorning halloween outfits.

Boom, Boom, boom

Hissing, and screaming, and what could only be explained as small explosions could be heard coming from 12th Street. Moose told the cabbie to head toward the noise, to which the cabbie replied with pulling over. Moose, now on foot, discovers the source of the noise at the 12th Street Public Toilet. His jaw drops, the hairs on the back of his neck stands up, every thought between his ears tells him to turn and run, but he just stares in abject horror.

A twenty-five foot tall Turkey, it's wings fully spanned, a gutteral gobble eminating from its beak.  a red collar wrapped around it's neck, with a pendant inscribed GGDT. Clawing, pecking and knocking over all of the public toilets. The stench, the sight, the freezing cold. An unholy trinity of Armageddon had decended upon Detroit. LittleSi weeps, both for the destruction of the public landmark and the insatiable bloodshed he was certain must follow.

From an overturned toilet a voice can be heard. It's BigTed an unfortunate victim using the facilities when it was used as the turkey's personal bowling pin

"MY SUIT, UGH EVICERATE WHOEVER IS RESPONSIBLE"

In an instant, all of the spectators of the horrendous gobbler open fire, hundreds of bullets piercing it's skin before falling over. Blood, brass, discarded chocolate (at least I hope that's what it was) covered the streets, turning what should have been a peaceful thursday into a blood soaked, family bonding experience.

"So, I'm just thankful I don't have dreams like that anymore, what about you guys?"

"You're not allowed to say grace anymore, shut up and eat" SlimRagnarok says before the crew digs into their Thanksgiving feast in the HQ immediately forgetting about... Whatever That was..