Disappearance

Lately someone from this mercenary unit has taken it upon themselves to distribute literature demanding the whereabouts of one white goose who seems to have run into a bit of foul play.  The goose, it’s been said, always traveled with two other white geese (perhaps marching in goose step) and has now vanished without a trace.  Notices have been posted meticulously on every telephone pole on the Venice Canals in the hopes that anyone with knowledge of the missing geese whereabouts would step forward with information.  There must be far more productive things these duck huggers could be doing with their free time than conducting geese census and search parties.

Here are some possible scenarios of what has become of Mr. Francois Goose:

Maybe he was tired of being a third wheel.

It is possible that a homeless culinary master got hold of him and decided to Goose l’Orange for supper.  In other words, his goose is cooked.

He could have tied a large empty bucket to his foot, jumped in the canals, carefully let the bucket fill with water, and committed gooseyside.  I say we drag the eight canals until we find some explanation.

He may be squatting inside a vacant canal home, living decadently on brie and Akmak.  Of course, if this were the case he is obviously no stranger to How I met Your Mother and NCI Miami.

Always fancying himself a Swallow, perhaps he packed his bill and headed of San Juan (Capistrano that is).

He’s playing hide and goose.  Watch your ass.

He was actually an undercover duck trying to crack a stolen sack of grain case.

He’s hustling customers for Jodie Maroni’s Duck Sausage on the boardwalk.

He just stepped out for a pack of smokes.

He dove into the canal with the sole desire of meeting Mr. Limpet.  He is now an animated goose about to sign a deal with Showtime to become their mascot.

It was a rare case of spontaneous internal combustion.  His fellow geese tell the story late at night around camp fires.  “One minute Francois was joking about razzing some tourists, the next moment he made a popping noise and nothing remained but smoke and feathers.  It was as if someone had inserted a live fire cracker into a down comforter.  Poof.  Then we all sneezed.”

He is invisible, like the Mayans.  He is a very high goose.

He’s just gone man, like Jim Croche, Amelia Erheart, and Eddie and the Cruisers.   Now get a grip.