Foie gras? More like Who Ha!?!
Hi. My name is Victor. I’m a goose who’s been scorned by what many refer to as a delicacy but what I refer to as plain old fashioned torture.
Growing up in Montreal, you wouldn’t believe the kind of raw pressure a goose experiences from the media. Images of emaciated geese with shiny beaks greet you at every Geico billboard, don’t get me started on that phony duck on the Aflac jumbotron, or that idiot in the Grey Goose ads. It is a flipping nightmare. There is no escape from the constant comparison of these beautiful bods.
For years, I have struggled with looking at myself in the mirror and finding the reflection staring back at me to be desirable. Wally, my squirrel counselor refers to this ongoing issue as “low self-esteem,” but I know what’s to blame. The media hosts a fertile environment for just such a complex. For this reason, all media (except Buzzfeed) is my sworn enemy. Until now. Until the foie gras industry took its place.
Though it’s existed for ages, the practice of foie gras has never touched the Montreal Goose Community. And Canadian Valley Foie Gras Co., as you well know, stuffing a funnel down a goose’s throat and force-feeding him corn is just plain cruel. I should have seen this coming. There were whisperings, rumors really. Daffy knew. Diffy knew. But it wasn’t until Farmer Josephine struck that damned funnel down my throat that business got real.
I don’t recognize the goose I’ve become. I’m a bloated balloon. A mockery of my former self. And the ironic thing is, I realize now that all along I had a beautiful bod. But it’s too late now.
Foie gras. You see a goose liver dressed up on a platter, I see torturous last days. I suppose I always knew my time on earth was but a flicker. Perhaps you didn’t have to make it so apparent? It’s clear now that “body issues” or not, I was on a conveyor belt fast towards my demise. I’m feathers and a beak. No soul.
Perhaps in the next life, I will return as a cloud. I will rain on you and your children for eternity. Or as a dog and I will crap on your porch.