When Goose ≠ Vodka

Yesterday, I arrive at work (late, as per usual) pull in to a parking space and start to gather my stuff to get out of the car. I open my car door and this huge ass  Psycho-Goose (PG) starts coming towards me (and no - "goose" isn't a euphemism or metaphor)! I slam my door really fast and all the sudden the goose starts charging my car door. I couldn't believe it!
Goose Captor

While PG charged my door with rage in his eyes, I frantically call people inside the building for help and then as if the PG knew I was calling in reinforcements  he started biting the car door handle!! I get a hold of a co-worker and in between laughs she says she'll send the security guard out to help. In a moment of pseudo-brilliance I open my car door to see if he'll back up - he does but then he charges me again seemingly trying to climb in before I can get the door closed again. After an eternity 3 minutes or so - PG lost interest and went away. I quickly pulled out of that parking space and found a new one, only to be finally greeted by the security guard coming to my rescue

I get to my office (with mirrored windows) and it being an especially beautiful spring day a suicidal male cardinal decides his reflection the competition must die so he dive bombs my window for the next several hours until he meets his untimely fate. By lunch, I realize I've somehow pissed off the avian community and they were going to have their unholy revenge through any physical or mental means of torture available.

Today as I head to work I've decided to pack a shoe box and stale bread to get me through the day - (shoe box for the sad dead cardinal burial & bread to distract the goose). If that doesn't work, tomorrow I'm bringing a BB gun and big pot & we're gonna eat goose for Sunday dinner!

For future reference, Universe, the only kind of "goose" I like is Grey Goose!
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