Ambra and Mary

All I could see of Ambra was a pair of skinny white legs sticking out from under her VW bug. Mary the Dirty Goose was patrolling the grounds, strutting her stuff, her head slowly swaying side to side. She honked contentedly, quietly.

Ambra carefully loosened the nut of the oil pan. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so intent on her mission, so determined not to spill any oil, she might have seen it coming.

Mary’s head suddenly dropped to the ground, her beady eyes focused on an imagined intruder. With a proud honk, she charged forward and latched her beak onto one of those soft white legs just as Ambra twisted the nut loose from the oil pan.

I heard the thunk of Ambra’s head against metal, followed by ear-splitting screams and curses. I spun around to see Mary viciously clinging to a flailing leg as Ambra attempted to kick, thrash, and roll her way out from under the car. She finally emerged, her blond hair dripping oil

I was frozen, first with amazement, then with laughter, By the time I was able to make it across the yard to help, Ambra had grabbed Mary by her long white neck. This only made the goose more determined to hang onto her prey. Mary finally popped loose from Ambra’s leg, after which she flew (not by her own power) at least twenty feet through the air.

Sizing up the situation correctly, Mary took off at a full goose gallop, running and honking for her life. She was pursued by an oil-dripping crazy woman, screaming references to goose dinners and down quilts.

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