Tales of the Malicious Goose (Vol 1)

Credit: Untitled Goose Game

“We know you did it, Mr. Burglar Man!” Detective John Franks declared, dramatically slamming his hands down on the interrogation table.

“My name is Tom, you should know that, and I haven’t stolen anything!” said the man on the other side of the table. “What are you even charging me for?”

“Excessive Tomfoolery,” said the detective with malice.

Mr. Burglar Man visibly paled, drawing a smile from Franks. Detective Franks had been chasing Mr. Burglar Man for ages now. An entire two hours! Not counting the four other times he caught him. Detective Franks was especially proud of catching Mr. Burglar Man in the act of partying when most of the festivities had already wound down.

John Franks is a Detective for the Seattle Police, but is also a prolific member of the Fun Police, having put away many silly doers over the years.

“You can’t prove anything!” Mr. Burglar Man declared with false confidence.

“Oh really?” Detective Franks asked. He picked up a remote, turning on the TV in the corner of the room.

An episode of The Road Runner Show began playing, opening perfectly to the moment when the Coyote's magnificent plan backfired on him, sending him falling into a chasm.

“Wait, no. Hold on,” Detective Franks said quickly as he desperately fumbled with the remote, trying to change the channel. After spamming the button many times, the screen finally switched to the scene in The Titanic where Jack and Rose are on the bow of the ship with the dramatic music playing in the background. Detective Franks paused before trying to change the channel, suddenly enraptured by the movie that was playing. He and Mr. Burglar Man sat together, holding each other as they wept over the finale, and screaming at the screen that the door was big enough for both of the characters to float on. 

As the credits rolled, Detective Franks snapped back to attention, fumbling to get the screen to display the security footage.

“Case closed,” said Detective Franks, slamming closed the mostly empty folder in front of him while throwing on a pair of shades. After displaying all of the evidence (a single blurry picture of a man who could be described as dancing if you looked closely), Mr. Burglar Man confessed in full to having indeed committed tomfoolery after hours. Franks stood up and jammed his knee into the corner of the table before walking directly into the wall. He removed his shades for just enough time to reach the door, then replaced his shades over his eyes and left.

That night–roughly 14 hours, 28 minutes, and 19 seconds later, approximately 6 miles, 74 feet, and 2 inches away–a shadow lurked just off the I-5. This phantom had ambitions. Grand ambitions that it would see fulfilled, no matter who tried to stop it. Lightning crashed overhead from the clear night sky for the sole reason that the malicious goose needed it for its dramatic entrance.

After some time, dawn crept along the horizon. It was time. After a day or two of studying, this goose knew the intricacies of how the loud ones functioned, and this giant stretch of road would soon be full of those massive Noise Makers. This was going to be the most dangerous shenanigan yet, but the goose had no intention of backing out now. It has had to escape from worse.

As expected, the river of Noise Makers slowly filled. The goose stood on an overpass. He had to scare away a crowd of people standing in his way, but that part was easy. They all fled, dropping posters and signs in their wake. The goose would return to punish them for their littering later, but not this day. After some time assessing the threat below it, the goose flapped up and over the railing in a graceful arc, descending upon the Noise Makers like an angel of terror. Those who saw the goose screeched to a halt, triggering a string of collisions. The goose then began running between the few Noise Makers that did not stop to bring them to a halt as well. 

Yes. This was a good bout of mischief. The goose continued to harass the Noise Makers, completely holding up the Traffic. Behind the goose, the grey river stretched clear, not a Noise Maker in sight. But then the goose heard the incessant wail of the enemy in the distance. They were a ways off yet, but it was soon time for the goose’s grand escape.

“What do we have?” demanded Detective Franks as he madly drove through the side streets.

“There is a major backup on I-5; it's a complete deadlock! According to Google Maps, it’s a deep red from here to Everett!” cried his passenger, Officer Brooks.

“Do we have a cause?” Detective Franks asked as he swerved onto the sidewalk to get past a minor slowdown.

“We have choppers on the scene,” Officer Brooks said, entirely unperturbed. “There are numerous collisions, and one guy even said he saw a white shape down there.”

“IT'S THE GOOSE!” screamed Detective Franks. He floored the gas, taking his speed up from 60 to 80 as he whipped through residential streets. 

Finally, they reached the highway, where the road was completely backed up. He was above the collisions on an overpass, where he could see its devastating effect. 

Why did it have to be the southbound traffic? Detective Franks bemoaned to himself.

Frantically, he looked over to the highway below, spotting the wretched white goose which has caused him such pain over the course of his career.

“There!” he screamed. He knew time was of the essence with the goose. It could get away at any moment. His exit was too far away, however; it was on the other side of the overpass! Instead of waiting the few seconds it would take to use the exit, he wasted even more time by flinging his car off the side of the bridge, landing on the highway below. Whipping his car towards the traffic, Detective Franks jumped out with an oversized net. But the goose was nowhere to be seen! The goose had eluded him once again!

Detective Franks fell to his knees, yelling, “Noooooooooo!”

Then he heard it: “Honk!”

Detective Franks spun around. There it was, the goose. Standing atop his car! He hurled the oversized net he still clung onto, but it had tangled around his legs when he turned. Rather than gracefully catch the goose, the net yanked his feet out from under him and flung him flat on his face. He looked up in time to see the goose fly off the top of his car and into the driver's seat. The door slammed shut, and the car spun away with the mad ferocity of an ambitious yet inexperienced driver.

“I’ll get you one of these days, malicious goose!” he screamed after the goose.

Then he assessed the damage. Cars were still piled up on the highway behind him, and now there was rubble cluttering even more of the road, making this stretch of highway entirely untraversable. Then he finally realized. He just had his car stolen. It was all the goose's fault.