Dressing Up as a Goose

It's taking a while to come together . . . a pair of spatulas sprayed black for my feet (but how to attach them?), some grey and brown blanket scraps for my back, a white-tipped paper fan fixed to my rear end. I've trimmed a yogurt container to fit as the white chinstrap.
I don't know what to do about the neck. The neck has to be convincing when I board that streetcar (which is what people like to do in their costumes, judging by the trip up Bathurst on 511 last night). I can sell "goose" with the right neck, but if I don't get it right I'll look like a mere grouse or mud dove. As of 11.10 am, I'm tinkering with flex tubing, chimney fragments, and that vacuum hose from the Kenmore 835. I've rigged up a toy alligator for the bill--that was easy.
For the sonic component of my costume, one of those squeeze horns maybe. I might sample some avant-garde tenor sax. 
Then there's the question of where on the goose/ghoul/ghost continuum I should settle. Should I run at people with my red tongue (a broken knife handle) bared? Should I stand still? Stick my bill under my feathers?
I don't want to spend all day on this, however. Maybe I'll settle for acting like a goose, starting from the inside somehow. Perhaps tell stories of where I go at night, where I come from, why I need your apple when I could easily find my own, how I know when to take off, and the like.
I suppose I should build some turds into my presentation, but come on now.
Ok, 12:08, I'm done:

And the rear view:

What do you think?