Saturday, Nov. 22, 2003 | 3:51 PM

Dear Turkey Lurkey the Thanksgiving Goblin,

My stupid mom won�t take me to the mall to sit in your magical lap and ask you for stuff. She says now that I�m 26 I should drive myself down there. But that would mean having to buy gas, so I�m writing you a letter instead and mailing it to the Indian Reservation in the center of the earth where you and Pocahantas and Sasquath and all the other elves make glorious cranberry breads and pumpkin beer.

Turkey Lurky, for Thanksgiving this year, I would really really like a snoopy snowcone machine and a Yankee Candle�one of the Pamela Anderson scented ones. Also if it�s possible, could you ask God to make sure I don�t have to sit next to Aunt Betty at the family dinner? When she farts I get a girly hardon, and it�s really really embarrassing.

Most importantly, I really hope you can slide world peace down the chimneys of all the kings and presidents and prime ministers and cabinet members and judges and army guys. We�ve been fighting Cobra Commander for so many years, never quite winning and never quite losing either. So far nobody�s died but Lady Jane passed out once and gave everyone a scare. It�s time for all the violence to end. This is something I�m sure you understand Turkey Lurkey, being the leader of the Pilgrims and the Puritans and the minute men who defeated the tyrannous British and freed the Indians from the terrible scourge of peace and prosperity that was the Unites States of America when it was just one big anarchic island and not even divided into like, states yet. (By the way, which state is your favorite? Mine�s West Virginia because it�s like Virginia but westier.)

Thanks for taking the time to read my letter. Have a happy holiday and cockledoodledoo!

Sincerely,

Your friend and lover,

Anna