Like any borderline psychotic, I am keening, "If one more thing goes wrong..."
I have just laid out $500 to the dentist and a cap flies right off, giving me a gap-toothed appearance, like Snaggletooth the Lion.
And I'm starting to lisp because of the gap in the top left.
I used to make fun of guys who sounded like me. "Do you thnuff ducks".
I'd go off with a talk baloon over my head. "Friggin' retard."
Now I'm sounding like that challenged person.
The way I am, I might as well go snuffing Canada Geese which are everywshere in town honking for the road( and some of them actually cross on the green light).
But they are monogamous and scrappy, and it's egg-laying season.
Leave my goose and her eggs alone, or I'll cook yours.
"I'll s-s-s-snuff you all right," the gander hisses and chases me all over the park after I'd come across his/her nest. "And what's with the kid leather windbreaker? Did you make it out of your own kid?
Foul mouthed goose!
Ah well. It's about kids. Er, goslings. I almost aborted a couple of his.
Geese, geese, everywhere geese. Some of them have stopped flying South.
"Welfare" is too easy in Newmarket. You're not supposed to feed them, but everybody does.
And now they're everywhere. Laying their eggs in front of the Liquor store, in any patch of tulips.
Exciting the park perv, who finds something erotic in the way they flap their wings. Especially when he goes after them. "Hold her Newt. She's headin' for th alfalfa."
Ah, you can't take the country out of Salem. Newmarket is an old farmer's town suddenly turned yuppie. And so it seems, have the geese. The cornfields are gone, but the hippy geese stayed.
So it's not "beep-beep" as in the roadrunner and the Coyote, but Honk. Honk for the right of way!
I thought in the winter, the geese would get cold feet and fly away.
They all gather under the bridge, waiting "fer to get their pay."
Of course, to the outsider Christma goose "on the web" is a tempting sight.
Better a tourist with a pistol than a foul-mouthed goose.
The poor challenged guy, who also has a touch of Parkinsons and walks with a cane, often chases the same lame gander with his cane. But Jerry is slow-moving and the gander waddles off, craning his neck back to hiss adefiant "F-off"!
I watched the two of them. The goose ahead of Jerry with his little hop.
Jerry immediately behind, with his cane, also doing a little hop.
Both were suffering damnably, but the gander got away.
No Christmas dinner.
I think I saw them both heading for the foodbank right downtown.
"Hey, save some for us!" as they saw me filling out the form."
Now I can't even eat food bank food. There is usually no bread (At the Food bank?) and they give you crackers.
Crackers. With no teeth.
Well, there is a goose with an attitude in town. Jerry's goose.
"My name isn't Sarah, it's Sam. And I don't want a cracker, I want a BJ.
Gander definitely has an attitude.
And I can't even eat a cracker.