Tis the season for this kind of recipe:
Rest assured, this wasn't OUR turkey, but I imagine the person this happened to was... moderately surprised.
But, fun anecdote: Thanksgiving of 2016 was my and my girlfriend's first time cooking the turkey. My mom, sitting on a stool in the kitchen, agreed to walk us through the process. My mom's an accomplished cook who speaks in terms like "a dash," "a pinch," "some," etc., and I knew this going in, so I told her "you need to be
very specific with us; we don't want to mess this up." She agreed. The prep went fine, and the last thing she told us was put it in the oven at 250 degrees right before we went to bed, then she and my father drove back to their hotel. We went to bed around 10pm, and the turkey went into the oven.
The next morning, the house smelled wonderful. We had a cup of coffee, smoked a cigarette, watched some TV. Around 9am, I figured my mom would be awake, so I called her to ask what time to take the turkey out of the oven. There was a long pause, then she finally said "you haven't taken it out of the oven yet?!?" I blamed her for omitting that step in the process, then ran to the oven. The turkey wasn't burnt, but it was pretty dry; nothing that some gravy couldn't fix, but it was certainly "well-done."