The Cave Guy tells the witch his dream.
"I dream that I am in my house and someone comes up the stairs. It is X," one of the Flying Monkeys, "with a delivery. I open the box and it is a Thanksgiving turkey. It still has the head and the feet on, but it has been plucked.
I am trying to make room for it in the refrigerator when I realize that it is not dead. It is watching me with one eye slitted open. It is cold.
I realize that it is very cold and half frozen. I wrap it in a blanket and pick it up. I find some rabbit food and feed it and then sit in my chair holding it, trying to warm it up. I think, I didn't plan to have a pet turkey."
The witch laughs, "You are so nice. The turkey was expecting you to whack its head off and eat it."
The Cave Guy grimaces. "I'm not that nice."
The witch laughs more, "I'm the turkey. Plucked, injured and paranoid and came to you for help. We'll see if you like me when I grow my feathers back."
The Cave Guy shrugs and won't answer.