dramatic

a goose had been travelling for a long time when it decided to land on the roof top. under the tails a couple of worms got a fright and died of respective heart attacks. further down under the ceiling the snores of the boy covered up the thump, and the girl got on with her morning breakfast, unaware. the goose preened her feathers under the morning sun. the sun, as is often the case this time of year, was sighing nuclear flares, fed up with having the same things around him year-in year-out. those pesky planets do nothing but bicker. jupiter was found to be scraping the olive oil from his olives "to make sure he didn't get any bigger", mars nearly strangled him. what's the point of leaving something so silly and so vain go round under the poor all-suffering sun? the goose didn't notice any of these conversations. she'd been distracted by the fact that mr goose has been an absolute prat and left her well behind on their way south. of course the only option was to sulk and lag behind. maybe he'd notice. maybe he'd realise how lonely it was without her. maybe he'd come... oh but just then a couple of crows crowed in alert but it was too late, the farmer had come and shot the goose. and a jolly good christmas dinner it will make too.