by BROOKE VAHOS and ELIZA JEVON Jan. 24, 2019
Hailing from Vancouver originally, Remington the Goose decided it was time for a change of scenery. He so hated wearing his threadbare $1050 Expedition Multi-Pocket Parka Coat with Fur Hood. Drag racing his Lamborghini through the snow was getting old (he was generous enough to give his livery driver a break from time to time). So, he had Roger pack up his Louis Vuitton suitcases and book the next flight to Tijuana, Mexico.
Upon arriving, he realized that he had forgotten his platinum monogrammed Yeti thermos, so to quell the deep despair in his heart, he bought a duty free Rolex. With all this time on his hands, Remington decided to donate to the Frida Kahlo museum. He’d never been, but his trust fund manager had only told him great things.
After leaving the airport, Remington checked into his hotel room. He settled for the penthouse suite at the five star King Remy III Resort (it was a gift to him on his eighteenth birthday — his parents experienced low returns that year). Bringing his own carry-on to the room was just exhausting, so, once he settled in, he proceeded to a hot stone massage to ease his nerves. He tipped the masseuse a meager Benjamin Franklin. She wasn’t quite as good as his nanny, Beatrice Gordon Rothschild-Von Klimpt.
Then, Remington thought he should head to the bar. In an effort to be more cultural, he ordered a glass of water. However, before having his footman sip it first, the thirsty Remington gulped it down his beak. Minutes later, he was rushing off to the little gosling’s room. Little did he know that cryptosporidiosis would cut his much earned vacation short. With legs firmly crossed and ass on fire, he couldn’t wait to go back North to sport his Vineyard Vines collection this spring, shooting thirty eight wild coyotes on his way back home.