“Carving the turkey is a fine art, my friend.” John moved the sharp knife up and down with great proficiency, stripping the bird to the bare bone. The thin slices of meat piled up on the edge of the tray, invitingly. The interplanetary exchange student observed silently. He dared not utter a single word, although he fervently wanted to. “See.” The guest did see. Suddenly, the horror, right next to the slices of meat was one of John’s fingers. I saw that coming, thought the guest, this is a strange art. I am glad we don’t have this type of thing in my planet.