Friday, December 26, 2008

The Christmas Goose


Fiction Friday is hosted by Patty at Patterings
Be sure to head over there for some new and some recycled fiction.

The Christmas Goose

The old farmhouse exuded glee –
Unbridled expectation,
While youth and elders strategized
Their Christmas celebration.

The merriment that overflowed
Infected fowl and beast.
In the barnyard peace ensued
And acrimony creased.

Except… that is, one envious pig
Got up his porker dander
When he observed the peacock strut
Of one illustrious gander.

The gander overheard the cook,
Whose silvered-tongue was loose,
That if he plumped-up, he’d become
This seasons Christmas goose.

The whole farmhouse, both young and old,
At once began to pander,
Feeding this and bits of that
To fatten up the gander.

To be the Christmas goose MUST BE
The wish of every gosling.
For every inch his waistline grew,
More lustrous grew his goose dream.

With each applause and patted-back
And lofty gander praise,
The pig’s hate exponentially grew
For all the gander’s ways.

Pig quipped, to put him in his place,
“They’re going to cook your goose.”
Then added, while his nose-ring bobbed,
“You’ll simmer in your juice.”

And then to emphasize his point
They waddled to a window.
From underneath they overheard
The children’s voices flow.

With sing-song voice they patty-caked
A chant that made him shiver.
“Pluck the fowl, discard the tail,
Take out his goosey-liver.”

“Add peppercorns, season to taste,
Then truss him up with kite string.
Cook will roast the Christmas goose that’s
Crammed with chestnut stuffing.”

Then goose-bumps on the gander flared.
His face grew flushed, then paled.
A plan began to formulate
So he’d not be de-tailed.

With not a moment left to spare,
He donned clothes from the clothesline.
When cook went out to dress the fowl,
He hid behind the grapevine.

The cook, with kids and jealous pig,
Searched far— all o’er the place
What started as a hunting crew
Wound up a wild-goose chase.

With nary a gander sighting
Of hide, nor hair or feather,
Cook then whipped up a Plan B –
The children thought ‘twas clever.

Epilogue

The gander near the window crept,
When deemed the coast was clear.
The children’s chant – a second verse?
Was music to his ears.

“Green-bean casserole, candied yams,
Pumpkin pie, and custard.
We’ll pig out on Christmas ham
That’s spiced with cloves and mustard.”

written for a FaithWriters.com writing challenge

Topic: Christmas Cooking/Baking
© Beth LaBuff -- October 2008



9 comments:

S.C.(S.Harricharan) said...

ROFL! I should have seen this one coming, at the rate that jealous pig was going. lol. Such fun! I really enjoyed this!

Hoomi said...

Your poetry is always a delight to read. Such a wonderful, metric fable.

Betsy Markman said...

Hee hee hee! Your poetry is always good for a smile!

Joanne Sher said...

ALWAYS love your stuff - and this is ABSOLUTELY no exception. Delightful to the max!

LauraLee Shaw said...

Okay, huge laugh out loud laughter here. Too awesome!

Patty Wysong said...

I love stopping by--your verse always brings a smile. Loved this before and love it still!!

Dee Yoder said...

Beth, how do you do it? Poets like you are so rare and precious--you make me laugh and think at the same time. Great piece! You need to be published, Girl!

The Surrendered Scribe said...

What a gifted pen you have! Too, too funny!

I also wanted to thank you for following my blog, I really appreciate it--and you!

Jennifer Hudson Taylor said...

I love poetry, but I can't write it. Novels are my thing. Poets are so creative. My husband is a poet, but he doesn't want people to know about his poetry. He can come up with a poem in seconds.