People: I hate when you make me lose control. Because even though I’m sure to tenderize your delicate organs should an encounter devolve to fisticuffs, there’s a lingering disquiet following the frenzy. A sense that you’ve somehow gotten the better of me. But I’m forced to retaliate.
This is what happens when you tell me I can’t drink in public
Don’t even get me started on the fascism of establishing “Animal Control” as a necessary force. According to the Internet Center for Wildlife Damage Management, my flock and I are somehow a nuisance. As to possible signs of a goose problem, the website had this to say:
“Usually pretty obvious, flocks of geese and plenty of droppings.”
Woah there, Nature-Haters, don’t trip over any of my ubiquitous shit while running around your gated community warning people who never leave their houses that my molted feathers are “fouling” your “green space areas.” Those green space areas are mine now. Just come down here and try to take them. I’ll be here, tearing up grass by its roots. Assholes.
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