mister lost me for a mo and started after a fisherman on a bike. will you get your goddamn dog he said. he won't bother you i said. i'll bury him he said. you what i said you better think on that. i gots to watch the boy every mo or he'll just go follow any jack or jill. he thinks everybody's a good soul birder. and he ignores me and bugs the birders too so i herd him off by ourselves and go check my goose bones and my camera decides to work so i take a picture and meanwhile behind me mister starts chomping the bones. ah, mister, that's my goose! bones is bones he says. to you that's true i'll warrant, i say. ah well, magoo, i guess that's the story of the transmigration of my goose.