I am a person (most of the time)

Because we are predators, and Geese are prey animals with hollow bones, no teeth, and no claws. What they do have are wings to make them look bigger and a fuck off attitude. That attitude works on most people apparently.

But it's still funny that people are scared of them, because like... They're just not that big.

And "serrated" break is a bit of an exaggeration. It's ridged, there are bumps along the sides but they're made for grinding water plant stems, not chewing meat or anything. They have a pretty good pinch pressure, but of all the birds I've been bitten by, geese aren't high on the list of a threat.

But humans, as predators, want to avoid being hurt *at all.* Because an injury means not being able to hunt and not being able to hunt means potentially starving to death.

The best way to not get hurt by geese is to leave them alone and respect that they're living things that don't want to be messed with.

You are 100% right, I have never been chased by a goose, not once in 41 years, because I wouldn't run from a fucking goose, and it cannot chase you if you don't run.

Geese are literally just animals. Here is me with one of my friend's geese many years ago.

They are not evil, they are not mean, they are not out to get you. They are animals. They are prey animals. They are defensive of their territory, their nests (because how would you like it if a giant invaded your nursery to look at your sleeping baby?? would you be super nice about it?? Would you gracefully and peacefully handle just Some Guy you don't know coming into your nursery against your will to look at and pick up your screaming kid?? like it's not even unreasonable behavior, people are just mad because it's an animal and they have weird beliefs about animals all having to allow human interaction), and their mates.

but they are literally just animals.

I would never be chased by a goose, because I don't run, but also because I leave them alone. And the few times I have had to interact, I was polite and they responded in kind.

A mated pair with 8 goslings in the narrow road I needed get down? PRIME candidates for being the "mean goose" everyone claims exists.

Yet, they moved politely out of the road when I got out and shooed them to the side, and they brought their muppet kids over to say hello when I greeted them properly. I gave them a few goose-safe treats and went on my way. No chasing, no attacking, no biting. One of the parents hissed a few times, but still bowed back when I bowed first.

I saw a lone goose in an Aldi parking lot earlier this year, and I brought over a cup of water and set it down, then backed away. It kept its distance while I was setting the cup down, but waddled right over to drink once I backed off. Didn't hiss once. Didn't chase me. Didn't try to get me.

Like, it's literally so easy to not be hurt by geese. I'm not talking out my ass; I've interacted with or been near so many geese and I've NEVER seen an actually aggressive one- only geese being harassed by humans into a provoked reaction.

I'm sorry to the people who got chased by one as a four year old or whatever and never recovered, but that's a you and/or your parents problem for bothering or allowing you to bother wild animals. Calling geese evil and nasty and mean because your parents allowed you to act inappropriately around animals as a toddler is an anthropomorphization that continues a cycle of wildlife harassment, because people feel justified in harassing "bad" animals.

And acting like I (or others) only think geese are not mean because I've never been chased by one is an excellent example of having fallen for their defensive mechanisms, as well as an excellent example of the attitude people have about geese that leads to people harassing and consequently getting attacked by geese.

BIRTHDAY GIRL'S BETRAYAL, also readable on my website.

Very much did in the sense that I literally do not know where my job is at the moment. But, for the time being I haven't been let go because nobody else including the store owner knows where it is either.

So, I don't wanna risk doxxing myself by posting pictures but goddamn am I tempted because this is not a believable event. This is a cartoon problem. For looneytoons.

But yeah, so, I work(ed?) at a kiosk selling boba tea, right? Freestanding kiosk in the mall with full water and electrical hookups and multiple fridges and sinks and a mini kitchen and the works. Fully functional tea shop. Very important to note that it was there last night, The work chat was discussing another issue last night at closing time. I'll get back to this.

It's been showing signs of being on the way out with how business is being handled lately and I've been considering other options, which is probably why I'm not as torn up about this as I should be, but maybe it just hasn't set in yet, but that's not the point. The point is there's been a lot of shit breaking and not being replaced and nobody mentioning anything about it until I walk into work in the morning and have to figure out why shit like the fucking cash register isn't there today. So I'm kinda used to having to ask questions about big things that nobody bothered to update me on. I was out for two weeks recovering from a surgery, so I came to work this morning assuming there'd be some kind of bullshit, yeah?

So, the question I had to ask the chat this morning was:

Not a text I ever thought I'd have to send in sincerity, but there it is. Because what I found instead was a fenced off patch of discolored tiles and a few holes in the floor where my entire place of employment used to be.

And the answer? Nobody knows! It was there last night when the mall closed, and every single trace of the structure and all its contents including drink making supplies and our safe and cashbox was gone when it opened again. And when I say nobody knows, I mean everyone from last night's closers to the actual (former?) owner of the store jad no fucking clue about this until getting that text from me this morning. For once I am actually the first to know. 🎉.

So. I guess I didn't so much lose my job as had it stolen. Not by AI, but good old fashioned hands-on human beings picking it up and carrying it away somehow. All mall security would tell me was that they were instructed not to tell me anything and have us contact our management. Who also don't know anything. And later on I came across some construction workers around the gravesite of the kiosk discussing filling in the holes, asked them about it, and was told that they "weren't at liberty to say".

So, not only is my job gone in the most literal physical sense of the word, but it was taken in some kind of super secret kiosk extraction in the dead of night without any warning or witnesses and nobody is allowed to speak of it. The store owner said she was gonna figure it out 10 hours ago and still no word back.

My mother in law thinks the FBI took it.

Not any of the other stores around the state. Just the one little kiosk.

Why? Because she loves a conspiracy and is just a little bit extra.

Also because she was around for the massive crackdown on Yakuza-owned businesses in Waikiki (in her homestate) that did actually involve the FBI seizing stores (no confirmation of making kiosks cleanly disappear in the middle of the night though).

Still no word from my job on what's actually going on, but the most likely theory so far is that maybe the kiosk was on lease and got repossessed? The mystery continues

According to the owner, based on what she's been able to find out, the kiosk was not removed legally and they're starting a potentially long process of legal action. I hope she gets to sue the shit out of whoever did it but for now at least I know for sure I'm unemployed.

Really hoping for more details in terms of who/why/how, so I'll keep updating if I learn anything.

For now the summary is: An unnamed entity that is most likely mall management (on account of mall security cooperating with them) stole an entire kiosk and all the contents including money and machinery with barely a trace in the middle of the night grinch-style, with zero warning or explanation, and ensured the silence of both security and the construction crew, in an action that was definitely preplanned and illegal, and as far as I know nobody knows its whereabouts.

Enjoy the unintentionally funniest text I've ever sent in my life

Aaand a close-up:

HEY HI HELLO THIS ONE'S MY FAVORITE

Ok I put this on FB but it can't hurt to put here too. We need help with Fantine!

Dog location: Northeast Georgia, just outside metro Atlanta and near the NC/TN/SC borders. TL;DR: Really sweet stray dog has ringworm; current foster is immune compromised; need someone to help by housing her for the duration of her treatment. Only need a short-term foster (approximately a month is the estimate for ringworm treatment? up to six weeks, I guess) and we can help find a permanent placement for her when her treatment is complete.

Details: Fantine is a stray dog we have been fostering for about the last month, she has a wonderful temperament (very sweet and trusting with people, quite resilient, friendly to all the dogs she has met) and is about a year and a half old. She has had all her vaccines and flea/tick/heartworm treatment and was spayed almost three weeks ago. and is healing up from it really well.

She's also ringworm positive, and I have some serious immune-related health conditions. The vet who diagnosed her was worried about her staying in the house with me even though she has been in quarantined in the laundry room and we are being very cautious about biosecurity.

This is extremely fuckin relatable as a queer trans woman

<3 She is right though <3

I used to be so miserable ironically because I was constantly hiding how unhappy I was

Because I was scared if I wasn't happy all the time people would leave because

I nod, setting down my chalk and spellbook. “It does sound like there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding.”

“She took against me, that's what happened,” the dead girl says with a scowl. She looks about fourteen, round faced and spotty, with whisps of brown hair peaking out from under her mob-cap. Her face and her crossed arms have a tell-tale bluish tinge to them. A cholera death.

“I been here for don't know how long and never gave any trouble. Nobody ever complained about me 'till her.”

…well, that's not strictly true.

Number 12, Barclay Street has been attracting rumours of haunting since the mid nineteenth century.

Sounds of faint singing and crying in the corridors at night. Cold spots. Doors that open and close by themselves. Animals acting strangely. Harmless, mid to low-level stuff, typical for a bored teenage poltergeist.

Still, pointing that out isn't likely to achieve much, and certainly the most recent complaints of blood running down the walls, screams in the dark and paralysing night terrors seem distinctly out of character.

The ghost toes the chalk again, more tentatively this time. It stays resolutely unbroken.

She could get out if she wanted to. I'm not one of those assholes who brings out their full arsenal of wards and sigils for a first meeting with a level 2 spectre. The summoning circle will keep her in one place for as long as I need her to talk, but it wouldn't hold for a moment if she really fought against it.

I take it as a good sign that she's still here. Pouting or not, she's clearly willing to work with me.

“None of the others could do this,” she says. “None of 'em even saw me.” She looks up. “Are you here to exise me?”

“Exorcise,” I say instinctively, and curse myself when she flinches. “Sorry, no, no! I don't exorcise people from their homes without good reason, not if they're happy where they are.”

“I was happy. Till she started calling in all them ghost hunters.”

Mrs Delaney had been quite persistent in her attempts to 'fix' her haunted house. Most of the people she found were charlatans, of course, but I'd still arranged an appointment as fast as I could once word reached me. It wouldn't have been long before she happened upon somebody with Talent, and unfortunately not everybody in this field knows how to behave like a professional.

“I think we might be able to help each other,” I say, careful to keep my voice calm and level.

“Don't see how. Not unless you can exorcise Her.”

“Not quite what I had in mind.” I pull out my phone and scroll through my photos. “You say that you're not the cause of the most recent incidents of paranormal activity?”

A pause. The ghost gnaws on her lip. I wait, patiently, keeping my body language open and nonthreatening. “I… I knocked her coffee cup over,” she admits at last. “She was being mean and talking on her telephone, saying I done all these things when I never did! So I decided to show her what I could do if I wanted.”

“Hmm.” The ghost eyes me nervously, as if expecting me to pull out a book, bell and candle and banish her on the spot.

“I only tipped it,” she adds. “I didn't break it or nothing!”

“You shouldn't have touched it at all,” I say sternly. “But… I can appreciate that you were frustrated, so let's say no more about it.”

The ghost looks relieved.

“My point is,” I continue, “if you weren't the one making blood rain from the ceiling or tormenting people in their sleep, then what was? There's no other ghosts on the property.” I find the picture I was looking for. “You can get anywhere around the house, right? Including behind the furniture and in the backs of cupboards?”

“Yes'm.”

I hold the phone up so that she can see the picture on the screen. “I'm going to let you go free in a moment, and I need you to see if you can find anything that looks like this.”

The ghost wrinkles her forehead. “What's that when it's at home?”

A Nervous Old Man (right) and his Emotional Support Violence Machine (Left)