Peanut Gallery Satellite of Love Bots Meet Peanuts on Turkey Day and There’s Not a Dry Eye in the House, and not just because Tom doesn’t have eyes and neither does Crow… 

It’s Turkey Day and the Satellite of Love 

Hangs heavy in the sky, so very far above. 

While the Mads down below, consumed with festive cheer, 

Have neglected to push the button, 

So Crow T. Robot says, “Look here, 

It’s nearly the season, so why don’t we try, 

This old VHS tape of Mike’s, 

Let’s hang this one out to dry.” 

So Crow and Tom Servo settle down in their seats 

Ready with the riffing, with comic cuts and beats. 

And they get some way 

With the animation and the score 

‘cos, yeah, it’s dated, 

They don’t make this stuff anymore. 

But Linus starts reading, 

After the Christmas tree reveal, 

And the Peanuts gang are singing, 

And what is this? Sincerity? Are they for real? 

So Tom Servo turns to Crow, says they should give it a rest, 

There have got to be worse films they can put to the test, 

And while he’s about it, 

Surely not? 

Is that something in his eye? 

Would that – could that – be a tear he descries? 

Crow shakes his head as the closing credits roll, 

And Charlie Brown and friends bow out with a Noel. 

“Course there’s something in my eye,” he tells his fellow bot, 

“It’s a ping-pong ball, you fool, don’t be such a clot. 

Now, while you’re about it, now we’ve done the sincere, 

Go fetch some Joe Don Baker, 

The biggest Thanksgiving Turkey in any old year.” 



Mike Hickman (@MikeHicWriter) is a writer from York, England. He has written for Off the Rock Productions (stage and audio), including 2018’s “Not So Funny Now” about Groucho Marx and Erin Fleming. He has recently been published in EllipsisZine, Dwelling Literary, Bandit Fiction, Nymphs, Flash Fiction Magazine, Brown Bag, and Red Fez. His co-written, completed six-part BBC radio sit com remains frustratingly as unproduced as it was the last time he updated this biography. So here it is, line by [almost] line (Part The Last): “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to throw a tent fully erect that distance, miss.” “Sorry, let me just check – you are talking about the tent, aren’t you?” “Let me fetch your glasses for you, miss.” “No. No, I’ll only want to poke both eyes out. It’s best left to the imagination.” “I assure you, ma’am, it really isn’t.”

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