You're a Turkey

I am in Hilton Head, South Carolina, for Thanksgiving. Twelve years ago Bob joined me for Thanksgiving in Hilton Head with the in-laws. That was when we developed the "game" "You're a turkey." In honor of that monumental occasion I have composed a brief recreation.
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: ...
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: ...
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [furrows brow]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [continued brow furrowing]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [add "huh?" mouth to brow furrowing]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [attempts to ignore Bob & Sarah in the hope they will stop or go away]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [returns to reading book]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [concentrates on book and ignoring Bob & Sarah]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [scowls at book]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [looks up from book scowling]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: >sigh<
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: >mumble< >sigh<
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: [stares at Bob & Sarah in disbelief]
Sarah: You're a turkey.
Bob: You're a turkey.
David: STOP IT!

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