It’s your day off. The plan is simple, noble even: sit quietly and finish that urgent sewing job due next Wednesday. No drama, no deadlines other than the one already breathing down your neck. Just you, fabric, and the sweet silence of productivity.
Enter Marilyn …
“Do you like to cook?” she asks, in that deceptively casual tone that should set off every internal alarm.
“Don’t mind,” you reply, because you’re a reasonable person who hasn’t yet realised the trap.
“Great! Can you cook lunch today? That would be so great if you could… it’s the goose.”
The goose. Of course it’s the goose.
You have eaten goose exactly once in your life. It was tough as old boots and about as enjoyable as chewing a leather boots. Goose pâté, on the other hand, is delicious. This distinction suddenly feels very relevant.
Today’s special, then: Puma Seconds (he only broke the neck — such a considerate predator) served as goose curry with turmeric rice. Slow-cooked, because if you’re going to eat something that previously belonged to a large cat, you might as well give it every possible chance.
And… it wasn’t bad. Genuinely. The surprise on my own face was only matched by the visible relief on everyone else’s. No one had to politely push it around the plate. Yay!
Meanwhile the puma is scheduled for an unscheduled relocation this evening, preferably before it samples any more of the livestock. The wild ostriches have already dwindled from a cheerful 28 down to a nervous 13. One of the staff heard the puma last night and gave chase, which is apparently why the prized golden goose was left behind instead of becoming a midnight snack.
Sewing still unfinished. Goose curry successfully eaten. Ostriches still looking over their shoulders. All in a day’s work… on your day off.
