Annabelle was a bit of a snob when it came to cooking for a festal day. There was always the turkey at Thanksgiving and Christmas and hers was always bigger and better than anyone else’s.
“Oh, your turkey sounds awful. Ours was delightful! And the stuffing!”
But on a particular Christmas, Annabelle had the chance to replace the traditional turkey with a traditional goose.
“Oh, are you having humdrum turkey? That’s very run-of-the-mill. We’re having goose. Hubert’s getting one from the farmer down the road.”
Annabelle had never done a goose before. Being a domestic goose and not a wild one, it had plenty of wonderful goose fat. But who cared? Christmas came but once a year.
The goose fat overflowed in the roasting pan. The oven caught on fire. The house caught on fire. The whole shebang burnt down.
“She certainly cooked her own goose,” observed a witty neighbour.
Annabelle didn’t think that funny at all. Some people have no sense of humour.