The Goose Egg

The Goose Egg Guide to Striking It Rich

With the recent gob-smacking $72 billion IPO of QwakZiP, a file-storage program designed for ducks, it is more apparent than ever that everyone, at some point, will strike it rich. Ludicrously rich even!

Since nobody likes the Smug, Sudden Philanthropist, or the Smug, Sudden Greedy Spendthrift, or anything in between really, the Goose Egg staff has compiled this handy, unorganized assortment of ideas for what to do when your Pay Day comes. So while you’re stretching out that wallet in preparation for its future bundles o’ bills, consider the following…

• Live out some dreams! An obvious one. But to throw everyone off your trail, live out the dreams of someone else - alive or dead! Gijundin Nbutta of Lesotho wants to own his own donkey warehouse - do that! Or take Runkiln The Elder (1788-1824) for example, whose unrealized dream was for his daughter Druhilde to become a concubine of the local Prince. Do that!
  
  
• Buy state secrets! Why sit through the laborious process of declassification to find out if Bob Dole is a chimp-Reptilian hybrid, or if there’s a dinosaur reserve kept under the Great Basin? Pay off some Pentagon lackey and find out for yourself the power of knowledge!

• Be an artiste! Would people go see a film about a boy who wrestles pigs while covered in a suit made of razor blades? Or would that work better as a stage show? Now’s the time to find out!

• Spread the wealth! An often overlooked method of investment that is not only philanthropic but totally recession-proof is colonization! Have you ever wondered what your own desert island would be like? Now what about a desert island with a subjugated native populace that clamors and cheers your shiny, profile-bearing coinage? All we’re saying is, Papua New Guinea’s navy ain’t what it used to be!

• Treat your mother right - buy her a house with new vacuum cleaners and pre-polished power sockets. If she’s dead, build her a mausoleum that a North Korean dictator would drool over, dig up her corpse, bring her back to life with the power of electricity, and dance with her, dance all night like she hasn’t danced in years, and when the sun crests o’er the wrinkled hills in the morning and her neurons sputter out once again, kiss her hard on the lips like you’ve always pictured.

Jake is the bad boy. Campbell is the heartthrob. Max? He's just a goof.

An editorial about the Euro crisis by local resident Jeff Skitzle, who in the last 24 hours watched his house be swallowed up by a sinkhole, his wife run off with his identical twin, and his parents make love on the top of his life’s work, a 3 volume biography of yuri gargarin, as it was set ablaze by his elderly Latina maid

Yeah, shit’s pretty fucked up

It Suddenly All Made Sense

The Great Debate - A Bridge Under Troubled Zoning

Caroline Flunst

“The Bridge Stops Here”
As you have been made well aware by the recent deluge of political ads - as well as by the actual flood that savaged our downtown are last month - our town is currently in need of a form of river-crossing infrastructure at 7th Avenue.

You are probably not aware that Dirk Bludgbury’s porta-potty firm, Gaswilk & Priktor, stands to gain several thousand dollars in contracts from the proposed reconstruction project, the “7th Avenue Bridge-Bistro-Batting Cages”. This lack of honesty and tact from a civil servant is appalling, especially in consideration of the fact that most of our local Little League players were lost to the cruel waters following the bridge collapse.

More to the point, the “7A3B”, as it has been termed by our more hip councilors, would not only be a nearsighted and bloated eyesore of a venture, but it lacks any of the proper zoning requirements stipulated in local, state, and federal laws. Don’t be won over by the slick talk of local contractors, the Bridge-Bistro-Batting Cages is, to put it succinctly, really just a Bridge to Nowhere (and Nothing of Good Value). 

Dirk Bludgbury

“Mr. Gorbachev, Build Up This Bridge!”
Ms. Flunst may find it prudent to claim malfeasance on my part, but in truth, Gaswilk and Priktor is the best porta-potty provider in the county. We supply clean, comforting toilets for construction work, music festivals, and private engagements, and our customer service can’t be beat. Does that mean I shouldn’t support private engagements anymore, because I might supply them with sturdy, dependable excrement-catchers, lining my pockets in the process? What about the 4th of July parade? I make a cool C-note providing Model CX-32’s for that. Should I stop supporting America, Caroline?

Look, the real issue here is change. A lot of folks want to see the new 7th Avenue bridge like it used to be: clunky, geometric, functional. But many of us in town want to welcome the future, and the future is all about integration - why have just a bridge when you can have a fun, family-friendly yet also upscale new feature of civic life? And to be clear, the batting cages are to be named in honor of the missing teams - the Tigers, Bobcats, Whistlin’ Wolves, Red Jays, and Gatorhawks. And half of the Rattlesnakes.

Zoning issues have long stifled progress in communities - our downtown area needs to rebound from recent events in a big way, and the 7A3B is just the bridge to take to get us to that rebound.

Tad Slittowicz

“Who Let the Flunst Out?”

It would be amusing to see Caroline Flunst so energetic to strike down a bold new vision for our town, if only her pep and pizzazz weren’t so familiar…

Like the time she turned on the Supermarket/Haunted House Ride on Polk Way, or the Dominatrix studio being built beneath the library, or even the time she objected to a parking lot located ‘neath the bowels of Lake Hasstith. Everything was “lacking the correct regulation approval” or “not zoned appropriately” or “an aesthetic and moral travesty.”

In short, it’s time to change the record Caroline, we’re all getting sick of it. Same goes for those fat thighs of yours.

Marina Coolidge

“Please Don’t Trust Tad Slittowicz”

Tad Slittowicz would like you to believe that he cares about the future of this town, and wants progress to be eased along, not hindered by “outdated” zoning regulations. But in reality Tad is just another fancy-pants, carpetbagging gay boy coming down here to build row after row of bland, beige, 24 hour textile workshops along the devastated shoreline. Why else would he want to harness the gruesome power of the River? I almost hope he does try, because with those girly little fingers he would be crushed and ground into viscous dust by The River! The Callous and Mighty River! The Eternal, Bloodthirsty River!

Furthermore, Tad’s ideas of progress in our town are hopelessly misguided. In the past he has supported various obscure projects that went nowhere, and now he wants to increase the wildlife feed budget in the Parks’ Department. There are children starving in Bangladesh you shithead! Bangladesh!

What a fucker.

Guess Who? - Sexy Psychic Scandals!

Maritime Misadventures (Pt 5)

Hear ye, hear ye, this is the fifth and final portion of this fishy tale, which, in case you’re a cretin, is five parts long. It’s a real seafaring hoot n’ holler, written by Goose Egg contributor K.G., and it starts here, with “Submerged in Adventure”

Concluding our narrator’s journey, today he is sung to by a chorus of what seems to be melodious mackerel and atonal anemone… but is there more to the story?

The Land of Sea Creatures

Well you have found yourself in the land of sea creatures
We - sexy wide eyed fish with other aquatic features
You should leave as fast as you can, flee from the mighty wizard
He lives underwater and listens to jazz

The underwater jazz wizard!

I know I am a flounder, but I used to be a boy like you
Until the underwater jazz wizard made me into a fish for his stew
Flee while you can!
This wizard is not a man!

He has no emotion to speak of
So return to the land above
We are here because we have to be,
Stuck under the sea
Transformed by the under water wizard

The underwater Jazz Wizard!

It is too late for us we cannot escape.
Don’t worry, turn your tale and run
Living in the land of sea creatures isn’t all that much fun
Hurry young lad escape while you can.
The wizard is taking a nap
You should leave now, or fall into the wizard’s trap

Take the southern current
To the mermaid castle
Just tell ‘em we sent you
And they won’t give you hassle

Ooooo sea creatures are we
Living in water, under the sea
In the land of the sea creatures…

In the land of the sea creatures

Maritime Misadventures (Pt 4)

The fourth installment of an ever-serpentine navigation of the high and low seas, courtesy of Goose Egg contributor K.G., who originally wrote and performed it for a junior college’s Creative Writing class.
To catch up on what you may have missed, here’s “The Folly of His Fetish”

The Lonely Ocean

“The Ocean, It’s cold out on the sea
The Ocean, It’s not where I want to be
I have no water, no food at all
I am now I am finding myself, listening for death’s call

I wanted an adventure, but nothing like this
I just want to be back home, be in my bed, be in my bliss
“The water, it looks so nice
The water, it feels like ice”

And as the boy look into the abyss

He felt his arm become heavy and fell over the side
Drifting below the water, falling to the mystery below
He awoke once more to a peculiar sight
There were fish around him standing like men, standing upright

They began a song and it sounded something like this…

Handling Unrequited Love - A Goose Egg Guide

By Contributer R. Moll

When you gave me change for the bus this morning, it made me feel good. Sometimes you make me feel so good. But other times you make me feel angry… like a big bear.

I get angry because I just want you so bad and I can’t have you, and it just makes me want to explode and lash out at you with my claws (like the aforementioned bear). I was walking around your room last week and I was trying to figure out exactly what it would sound like to have my head sawed open, but then I started thinking that if they opened up my skull there would be nothing stopping them from just plucking out all of the memories I have of you and leaving me with nothing.

Maybe it would be for the best though, because then I wouldn’t have to think about you and feel the pain of not being able to have you. You’ll never know pain until you’ve felt the pain of being without you. Sometimes I want you to feel that pain with me, because I just hate you so much for forcing me to feel the way I feel. And if you felt even an iota of the anguish I feel, you’d be so proud of me for being able to suffer for you the way I do. I want you to be proud of me and I think that’s the only way…I need to make you feel everything that I feel

A Poem Found On My Old Laptop, Written 2007

I am a conquistador
My name is Juan Chiella
Come to the new world to look for girls
Who don’t smell like Paella