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The cook, a Nilanium who had been working in the kitchens for years, shook his head. “It’s not a turkey. The trader that delivered it had another name for it. He called it a—let me think now—oh, yes, he called it a goose.”
“A goose!”
“Yes, I’m sure that was what he said. A Christmas goose.”
“But I ordered a turkey!”
“Well,” the cook replied. “You got a goose. It’s still a bird. The trader said it was what people on Earth eat at their holiday dinner. Isn’t that right?”
“No. At least it’s not anything people in America eat on Christmas. Not that I know of, anyway. How could he make such a mistake?”
“I think goose is much more expensive. He wanted the extra money, I guess.”
“Damn traders.”
“People do eat it, Blake,” Ryan said, trying to soothe him. “I’m sure it’s good. If we can figure out how to cook it, it will be fine.”
Ryan already had his communicator out, looking it up. “Oh, it says here that a goose is all dark meat and tastes more like beef than chicken. It’s extremely fat, and you shouldn’t get a big one—they’re way too tough. You should get a young, small goose and be sure to trim off the fat.”
“Oh, for god’s sake! I don’t eat dark meat. And this goose is huge. Okay. Let’s just season birdzilla here and put it in a pan and cook it. How bad could it be?”
“It has a lot of fat on it,” the cook noted, peering over Blake’s shoulder. “It’ll be swimming in it after you cook it.”
“Who cares? I’m not eating it, and I’ve seen the kind of meat the Tygerians put in their mouths. They won’t notice anything. Just do it. Get it in the oven, so I don’t have to look at it anymore.”
“Wait a minute,” Ryan said. “It has stuff stuck up inside it.”
“Just leave it. Maybe it will help season the bird.”
“I’m not sure about that, Blake. Maybe we should…”
‘No, it’ll be fine, I said. Leave it. We have too much else to do.”
“Okay, if you say so.” He began greasing a pan and easing the big bird onto it to place it in the oven. “Do you know what temperature to set the oven on?”
“How would I know? Just set it on the highest possible setting, so it will cook faster. And meanwhile,” Blake told the cook, “You start peeling the potatoes, and I’ll make the cornbread. Where did you put the cornmeal for the dressing?”
The cook looked blank, so Blake started pawing through all the groceries left on the table.
“What’s this?” he said, pulling out a Santa hat.
Ryan glanced over at him. “You know what that is. It’s a hat like Santa Claus wears.”
“Yes, but I didn’t order this.”
“Well, put it on while you cook. Maybe it will help get you in the spirit.”
Blake plonked the hat on his head and continued looking through the boxes.
“Unbelievable. There’s no cornmeal here!”
“Can’t you make cornbread without it, Blake?”
Blake gave Ryan a long look. “Can I make cornbread without the stuff to make cornbread with? Sure, Ryan, let me just go get my magic wand!”
“You don’t have to get snippy about it. I told you I didn’t know much about it.”
“Your Highness, while the prince’s consort is doing that,” the cook interrupted, “I wanted to ask you something. Don’t you think perhaps it’s a little early to start making the vegetables? Maybe you should do the desserts first. Then after the goose is cooked, you can make the side dishes while it cools. It’s better to have everything ready around the same time.”
