The Very Real and True Diary of a Villain’s Pet Goose– Part 3

(yes we are back with this ridiculous little story XP)

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The Tenth Of Wet-Winter

Dear Reader,

Something very strange happened today. I was eating grass and contemplating the predicament of being stuck in such a horrid place, when out of nowhere, a rough voice snorted, “hullo”.

I lifted my head and found myself very close to a Rather Large Horse. Normally horses and geese do not interact, as a rule, but this one had decided to break such societal rules.

“Hello,” I honked, before returning to the bland, bland grass, wishing very much for a sammich. My attempts to break into the grain room had gone rather unsuccessful, so it seemed I would be stuck with grass.

The horse leaned closer, pressing against the boards of the fence. “Can I ask you something?”

I lift my head again, annoyed at being interrupted. “Why?”

He glanced around, then whispered, “Word around the barn is, you have joined the Sammich War.”

This got my attention. I cocked my head. “What do you mean by a Sammich War?”

“You tried to steal the Greg-Human’s sammich, didn’t you?”

The disgrace from yesterday replayed in my mind. “Perhaps.”

“He’s the worst, isn’t he?” The horse snorts, shaking his mane. “Over and over I have tried to convince him to share his sammiches. He always brings such lovely ones…”

“So this isn’t the first time he has withheld them?” I asked, intensely curious.

“Oh no!” The horse bobs his head. “All the humans do. Every horse in the barn is quite fed up about it. Over and over we have told them, ‘WE WANT SAMMICHES!’ and they just laugh and shake their heads and call us fat! THE NERVE!” The horse eyes me. “You don’t think I’m fat, do you?”

“The horse was, in fact, rather rotund and in dire need of exercise, but I did not say this. “No, no, of course not.” I tapped my foot on the ground. “You said that you have started a war about this?”

“Yes! Every horse in the stable has agreed to be obstinate and not behave with ANYTHING the humans say until we get our sammiches.” He huffs. “But so far, it hasn’t been working.”

“Well of course not, not with a plan like THAT,” I said without thinking. “You need strategy, my dear caballus, clearly defined articles of wars, terms for the humans to surrender to–”

I stop when I realize the horse is staring at me, mouth open.

 I gave a short honk to clear my throat. “I mean… that’s what I would do.”

“Of course…” the horse murmured, as if dazed. “How could I not think of it before? You must be our general!!”

“I… what now?”

“Every army needs a leader, don’t they?” the horse asked. “And you’re the most experienced in warring, by far. All your fancy words, that sharp beak– the humans will definitely listen to you.”

“I think you misheard me… I’m only versed in the art of war from text. I haven’t actually been in combat.”

“You were in combat yesterday, when you attacked Greg-human.” He snorted.

“I AM A VILLAINOUS GOOSE!” I shrieked. “VILLAINOUS GEESE DO NOT FIGHT FOR NOBLE CAUSES!”

The horse’s ears flopped out to the sides and his lower lip quiwered– although his tongue had been sticking out the entire time, so it was hard to tell if he just had lazy lips or was actually offended.

“Well,” he said, in a very small voice. “Maybe, just this once, you could be a Very Heroic Goose. For the Sammiches.”

As a rule, geese are not easily swayed in their decisions. It is why we have stayed alive for so long. But those sammiches… to do it for the sammiches…

If I only did it for the sammiches, then it would still be selfishness on my part, and I would still be a Very Villainous Goose.

“Well,” I huffed. “If I were to become your general, you must refer to me as General Clancee.”

“GENERALLLLL CLANCEEEE!” The horse whinnies, his voice ricocheting across the field and scattering the ridiculous ducks into fight. “I like this! I like this! Who am I, Generaaallll Clanceeee?”

“I don’t know your name,” I said lamely. “But you could be a colonel, since this was your idea.”

“COLONELLLL PEANUT BUTTER!” He crow hops. “Yes, yes! I shall tell the other horses! We can actually have a war! Make the humans give us their sammiches! With a genius goose on our side, we can’t fail.”

“Genius!” I honked, quite pleased with the compliment. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

The ridiculous Peanut Butter went gallivanting off to go tell his friends, and left me standing on the grass, suddenly aware of the new role I had to play.

And that, dear reader, is how I became a general.

From a Now-Military Official But Still Very Villainous Goose,

~Clancee