Fable IX

The Tribulations of the Simple Husband Who Wanted Nothing More than to Eat Goose but was Denied this Delight by His Unfaithful Wife and Her Arrogant but Probably Handsome Lover

A simple husband one morning took his wife a goose and said, “Cook this bird for me; when I come home in the evening I shall eat it.”

The wife plucked the bird, cleaned it, and cooked it. In the afternoon her lover came. Before going away he asked what food he could take with him to his friends. He looked into the oven and saw the roasted goose.

“That is for my husband,” the wife said.

“I want it,” the lover said. “If you do not let me take it, I shall never love you again.”

The lover went off with the goose.

In the evening the husband sat at the table and said, “Bring me the goose.”

“What goose?” the wife said.

“The goose I brought you this morning,” the husband said. “Bring it to me.”

“Are you serious?” the wife said. “You brought me no goose. Perhaps you dreamed it.”

“Bring me the goose,” the husband shouted.

The wife began to scream, saying, “My poor husband has lost his mind. My poor husband is crazy. What he has dreamed he imagines has happened.”

The neighbors came and believed the wife, so the husband said nothing and went hungry, except for bread and cheese and water.

The following morning the husband brought his wife another goose and said, “Is this a goose?”

“Yes,” the wife said.

“Am I dreaming? – No.”

“Is this the goose’s head? – Yes.”

“Wings? – Yes.”

“Feathers? – Yes.”

“All right,” the husband said, “cook it. When I come home tonight I’ll eat it.”

The wife cooked the goose. The lover came.

“There is another goose today,” he said. “I can smell it.”

“You cannot take it,” the wife said. “I had a terrible scene with my husband last night, and again this morning. It is too much, I love you but you cannot have the goose.”

“Either you love me or you don’t love me,” the lover said. “Either I take the goose or not.”

So he took the goose.

“Bring the goose,” the husband said.

“My poor husband,” the wife screamed. “He’s stark raving mad. Goose, goose, goose. What goose? There is no goose. My poor, poor husband.”

The neighbors came and again believed the wife.

The husband went hungry.

The following morning he bought another goose in the city. He hired a tall man to carry the goose on a platter on his head. He hired an orchestra of six pieces, and with the musicians in a circle around the tall man carrying the goose, he walked with them through the streets to his house, calling to his neighbors.

When he reached his house there were many people following him.

He turned to the people and said, “Mohammedans, neighbors, the world, heaven above, fish in the sea, soldiers, and all others, behold, a goose.”

He lifted the bird off the platter.

“A goose,” he cried.

He handed the bird to his wife.

“Now cook the God Damned thing,” he said, “and when I come home in the evening I will eat it.”

The wife cleaned the bird and cooked it. The lover came. There was a tender scene, tears, kisses, running, wrestling, more tears, more kisses, and the lover went off with the goose.

In the city the husband saw an old friend and said, “Come out to the house with me tonight; the wife’s roasting a goose’ we’ll take a couple of bottles of rakki and have a hell of a time.”

So the husband and his friend went out to the house and the husband said,

“Have you cooked the goose?”

“Yes,” the wife said. “It’s in the oven.”

“Good,” the husband said. “You were never really a bad wife. First, my friend and I will have a few drinks: then we will eat the goose.”

The husband and his friend had four or five drinks and then the husband said, “All right, bring the goose.”

The wife said, “There is no bread; go to your cousin’s for bread; goose is no good without bread.”

“All right,” the husband said.

He left the house.

The wife said to the husband’s friend, “My husband is crazy. There is no goose. He has brought you here to kill you with this enormous carving knife and this fork. You had better go.”

The man went. The husband came home and asked about his friend and the goose.

“Your friend has run off with the goose,” the wife said. “What kind of a friend do you call that, after I slave all day to cook you a decent meal?”

The husband took the carving knife and the fork and began running down the street. At length in the distance he saw his friend running and he called out, “Just a leg, my friend, that’s all.”

“My God,” the other said, “he is truly crazy.”

The friend began to run faster than ever. Soon the husband could run no more. He returned wearily to his home and wife. Once again he ate his bread and cheese. After this plain food he began to drink rakki again.

As he drank, the truth began to come to him little by little, as it does through alcohol.

When he was very drunk he knew all about everything. He got up and quietly whacked his wife across the room.

“If your lover’s got to have a goose every day,” he said, “you could have told me. Tomorrow I will bring two of them. I get hungry once in a while myself, you know.”