I was driving back to Chicago from southern rural Illinois. I decided to stop for the night in a small town. I can’t even remember the name of it. I stopped at a motel and checked in. Then I went to the diner next door.

It was called “The Turkey’s Delight Diner”, I think because there was a turkey farm nearby. It had red flocked walls and dim lighting, about 20 stools and 10 booths, a nice place.

I grabbed a menu and noticed, Turkey fries on it as an appetizer. I asked the pretty waitress if she could tell me what Turkey fries were.

She smiled and said:

“Well, sir, they’re kind of hard to explain. You get a whole bowl of them and you dip them in a sauce.”

“Are they part of a turkey?”

“Oh, yes sir, they are part of a turkey.”

The man two stools down drawled:

“I’ll tell him, darlin’. Mister, they’re turkey balls.”

“You mean they are the testicles of a turkey?’

“That’s right, bub, you got it in one.”

The waitress laughed and said:

“That’s what they are. We sell a lot of them. You want to order a bowl?”

“I think I’ll have the spaghetti bol, instead.”

The man two stools down, wearing a string tie, a Stetson and full cowboy gear, leaned over and said:

“You ought to try some, they’re very good.”

“I’m sure they are. But the doctor told me to avoid fried foods.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Very unusual dish, though, tell me, how do they obtain the delicacy?”

“I guess, you just catch a turkey and, snip, snip.”

“To serve them by the bowl, you would need many turkeys and a lot of snipping.”

“That’s right.”

I began to wonder about the people that have this snipping job. A young man’s girlfriend would ask what he does for a living and when he told her he’s a turkey ball sniper, that might scare her off!

As I paid my bill, the man with the string tie asked:

“Where do you come from?”

“Chicago.”

“You don’t serve Turkey fries up there?”

“No, just French fries. And fortunately, for the Frenchmen, it’s not quite the same thing!”