by Chris Genoa
“How does one explain that, John?” the Captain asked.
“Perhaps the Good Lord, in his infinite wisdom, created a flying deer,” I said.
The Reverend stuck his finger in my face and said, “You listen to me, you gleeking clotpole. Burning that witch is what the Good Lord wants us to do. This is well documented in the Bible. Luke 3:12, for example. And I quote…how does that passage go again? Oh I remember. Burn, burn, burn. Burn them all! All of them! Every man, woman, child, or beast who shakes hands with the Devil, burn them good with the Holy Fire. Do not waste too much time worrying if they are innocent or guilty, for I shall sort out their roasted souls. The innocent souls shall be cleaned of all the burnt bits, given a firm handshake, and then sent to play with a hoop and a stick in the Elysian Fields for all Eternity. The guilty souls, however, shall be slapped across the face, spread with rotten gooseberry jam, and then slowly eaten by flatulent demons for all Eternity.’ So you see, burning Mr. Ely is our only right course of action.”
A voice boomed from behind us. “You will do no such thing!”
It was Governor Bradford, standing in the shadows with his hands on his hips. He was wearing a flowing white woman’s chemise. “The Good Lord has sent that witch to us. He is our Savior.”
“Governor, that sounds highly improbable,” said the Reverend, “Not to mention highly blasphemous.”
“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” said Bradford. “Before I slumbered tonight, I prayed to the Almighty, asking Him to save us from those Savages who will be here in the morning, outnumbering us in the hundreds. I asked the Lord to send us a Savior. I tell you He has heard my prayers and delivered this witch into our hands. We shall restrain this Jasper Eberly and tell him that in exchange for his life, he must cast a spell over the Savages.”
“What kind of spell?” asked Standish.
“The witch turned William Button into a fish,” said the Reverend, “We should command him to do the same to the Savages.”
“But are not these Savages our neighbors?” I asked. “Did not the Lord say, ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself?’”
“And that is precisely what we are doing,” said Bradford. “Those Savages behave like animals, with their wild nakedness, their sexual promiscuity, and their constant hooting and yelping about. Turning them into Beasts will be doing them a favor. For then they will be able to continue with their beastly ways, without worrying about burning in Hell. Because as we all know, animals do not go to Hell. Nor do they go to Heaven. Instead they go inside our stomachs, which to them is Paradise. It is where they want to be. So look at this as an act of Compassion and Love. God Himself will look down upon our actions and he will be proud of his Children. He will turn to Christ His Son and say, ‘Now there are four Men who truly know the meaning of Love thy Neighbor. They love their Neighbors so much that they are kind and strong enough to force them, by any means necessary, to stop sinning.’”
With Standish and the Reverend nodding along sagely to this nonsense, I had no choice but to go along with Bradford’s fobbing plan.
—John Alden
9
The Man with No Flap-Dragon
Dale Alden found himself in the less-than-desirable position of being facedown in a pile of moist hay covered in turkey feces. The smell of ammonia shot through his nostrils, and sent Dale springing to his feet.
With a sea of turkeys surrounding him, Dale didn’t even notice that Le Roi du Crazy was floating in the middle of the barn, supported by the column of light.
The barn turkeys had done their best to scatter when Dale came flying in, but with little space to move to begin with, they now filled in the area around him. Within a few seconds he could barely move his feet an inch without stepping on one of the birds.
“Shoo. Shoo birds.”
Dale did his best to control the growing urge to just start kicking the birds away from him with all his might, but he knew he could only restrain himself for so long. The birds would keep getting closer, and sooner or later, despite common sense screaming at him not to do so, he’d pick up one of the turkeys and punt it across the barn. After that, who knows how the other birds would react. Probably en masse. And probably with violence of the eye-gouging variety.
Dale swung around and tugged on the door. It was locked.
Dale pounded on the door. “Let me out, let me out, let me out!”
“Hang on, Dale!” Randy shouted from outside. “I’ll get you out of there, buddy!”
Dale heard the sounds of metal banging on metal. Like someone was hitting a lock with a hammer. After three bangs, the sounds stopped.
“What’s happening?” Dale asked.
Randy, his voice sounding oddly squished, called back, “I can’t let you out, Dale.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I just can’t, okay?”
On the other side of the door, Farmers Standish and Bradford pressed the long barrels of their shotguns firmly against Randy’s cheeks. Randy’s face was smushed in so much that his lips were puckered out.
“I told you to leave that door closed,” said Standish.
Farmer Brewster, from up on the hill, said, “I’m going to phone the boys.” Then he walked off toward the nearby farmhouse.
John Alden paced back and forth on the hill. He kicked his hat, shook his head, and cursed into the wind.
“Of all the motherfobbing, gorbellied, sheep-biting, knotty-pated, gleeking, spleeny, frothy, things to happen. After all these years. Fie on it! Fie I say!”
“Calm down, John,” said Bradford without moving his gun from Randy’s head.
“No, you calm down, Bumbailey!”
“Hey! What did I say about calling me that!”
John Alden, his face red and tears in his eyes, clenched his fists and screamed, “I hate you! Do you hear me? Do you? You’re all a bunch of tottering bastards! I can’t take it anymore!”
He fell to the ground, sobbing.
“Geez, what’s wrong with the cry baby?” Randy asked.
Standish and Bradford pushed their guns further into Randy’s cheeks.
“Be quiet!” Bradford shouted. “He’s just tired. Besides, we’ll ask the questions around here. Ask your friend in the barn what he sees in there.”
“Dale,” Randy called out, “what do you see?”
“What do you think I see?” Dale called back. “I see a shitload of turkeys!”
“Ask him,” Standish said, “if he sees a deer playing a sacbut.”
Randy raised an eyebrow. “What’s a sacbut?”
“Just ask him!”
“Dale, do you see a deer playing a sacbut?”
“What the hell are you talking about? There’re no deer in here. Now let me out!”
“Ask him,” Standish said, “if he sees a dancing naked man with no flap-dragon.”
“Are you fellas putting me on?”
“Ask him!”
The farmers nudged him with their guns.
“Dale, is there a nude man in there with you?”
“With no flap-dragon!”
“Okay, okay. A nude man with no flap-dragon.”
“Flap-dragon?” Dale asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you, the only things in here are turk—”
As Dale spoke he turned around and for the first time saw Le Roi du Crazy floating in the beam of light. The bird was a good twenty feet off the ground, and the other turkeys in the barn were starting to congregate around the base of the beam.
“Okay,” Dale said. “I, uh, see something weird.”
“What is it?” Bradford asked.
“Is it an opossum with a cup of spit?” Standish asked.
“Noooooooooo,” Dale said, “It’s some sort of turkey tractor beam.”
“Are there one or two beams? One or two, damn you!”
Just as Dale was about to answer, the second, horizontal beam of yellow light crashed through the barn, blasting a hole in the wall and intersecti
ng with the vertical beam. The two beams created a cross of light with Le Roi in the middle. Both beams immediately began to get brighter, filling the barn with a blinding light.
The turkeys in the barn all extended their long, skinny necks as high as they could, up toward Le Roi. Then, with voices not much unlike the Vienna Boys Choir, they all began singing a little tune that went “lee lee lee lee lee.”
“They’re singing that song again, Governor,” Standish said. “What does it mean? What should we do?”
“I don’t know what it means, but I do know this,” said Farmer Standish, “we should run. We should run our fat asses off! Outta my way!”
Standish turned and sprinted off in the direction of the farmhouse. He called out, “John! Run for it! It’s happening all over again! Retreat! Regroup! Repent!”
John, who was kicking at the grass on the hill, didn’t hear Standish through his constant stream of curses.
Farmer Bradford tightened his finger on the trigger, but then thought otherwise. He hit Randy on the head with the butt of his shotgun, and then ran after Standish. Randy fell to the ground and was out cold before his head hit the grass.
Inside the barn, as the light grew too bright to bear, Dale covered his eyes. Just before he did, he saw the levitating Le Roi du Crazy sprout a full-grown pair of human arms.
Oh Lord how I wish
That all this was still the shrooms
But alas, tis real
10
The Animal Uprising
The sun retreated from a long, dreary day in Duxbury, muttering to himself. “Those clouds are going to roast for this. One day, one day.”
To celebrate their triumph, the clouds popped the corks on the last few drops of water they had in them, which drifted down in a fine mist.
With its wipers pushing aside the mist, and its sirens flashing, a police cruiser raced down Washington Street. Officer Truax was at the wheel, Ainsworth fumbled with a road map beside him. Andie sat in the back with her hands calmly folded in her lap.
Andie had kept quiet for the entire ride, not saying a single word as they drove in and around Duxbury over and over again. But seeing as this was their sixth trip down Washington Street that evening, she felt like something needed to be said.
“You jackasses have absolutely no goddamn idea where you’re going, do you?”
“Of course we do,” Ainsworth said. “We’re going toward that light.”
“Duh,” Truax added.
The vertical beam of light could be seen from the road, and Truax and Ainsworth were trying to navigate their way to it. However, that was easier said than done since the light was well off the main roads, and apparently in the middle of a field. They had tried turning off onto almost every side road without luck, and were running out of options.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Andie asked. “Bugs and dead people always go toward the light, and you know how that turns out.”
Ainsworth eyed her in the rear mirror. “I wouldn’t be joking around if I were you. I have a hunch that your fugitive husband has something to do with that light that almost blinded us. If we find him maliciously wielding some sort of humongous flashlight, then that’s assaulting an officer of the law. Combine that with the murders of Gus, Mayflower Jenkins, and that Duxbury Times editor, and his fate is sealed. He’ll get life behind bars, easy. What do you have to say about that, funnyface?”
“You do realize that a flashlight would have to be the size of a buidling to be that bright. How exactly would he wield something that big?”
“I don’t know, but we’re gonna find out.” With that, Ainsworth picked up the police radio. “Dispatch, do you copy? This is Officer Ainsworth in car fourteen. Over.”
“Officer Ainsworth, this is Dispatch. We copy. Over.”
“Requesting helicopter backup. Over.”
“Roger that, Officer Ainsworth. What is the purpose of helicopter back-up? Over.”
“We’re trying to find out if suspect Dale Alden is maliciously using a flashlight as a weapon. We need the chopper to pinpoint location of said flashlight. Over.”
“Say again, Officer Ainsworth? Over.”
“A big beam of light. It assaulted myself and Officer Truax. We’re still blinking from the extreme brightness. Over.”
“Are you saying you were assaulted by a beam of light, are now in pursuit of a flashlight, and are requesting chopper support? Over.”
“Affirmative. Over.”
“Officer Ainsworth, please stand by.”
Ainsworth turned around, flashed a big smile at Andie. “As soon as we get that chopper, your hubby is as good as convicted.”
Ainsworth and Truax high-fived.
“Officers Ainsworth and Truax you are both ordered to return to the station immediately. Over.”
“What about our chopper? Over.”
“Chopper request denied. I repeat, return to station immediately. Over.”
“Why do they want us to return to base?” Truax asked.
“Beats me. Maybe they’re calling the Feds in on this one.”
“Or maybe, they think you’re both batshit crazy,” Andie suggested.
Truax shifted uncomfortably. “Are we?”
Ainsworth had to think about that one for a moment.
“No. They’re the ones who are crazy. This is our case. No way are they taking this one from us.”
“Officer Ainsworth, do you copy? Over.
“Uh, dispatch, our radio seems to be malfunctioning. We can’t hear a word you’re saying. It’s all coming across as static and gibberish.”
“Yeah and it’s on fire!” Truax shouted.
Ainsworth smacked Truax upside the head.
“How exactly is your radio on fire? Over.”
“It just is, okay?” Truax said. “There’s smoke everywhere and we can barely breathe. We’re going to try urinating on it to put it out. I only pray that our bladders are full to the brim! It’s our only hope!”
“Over and out!” Ainsworth shouted before clicking off the radio and smacking Truax again.
“We’re going to urinate on it?” he said. “Don’t you think that was a bit much?”
“No.” Truax rubbed his skull sulkily. “I thought it brought an element of reality to the situation.”
“How so?”
“What’s more real than things like vomit, crap, and urine? Nothing, that’s what.”
“Just keep driving. We’ll go off-roading to find that damn light if we have to. When we come back with Alden in cuffs and his colossal flashlight strapped to the roof, we’ll show them who’s crazy.”
Andie sighed and gazed listlessly out the side window. There she saw Officer Gilly pull even with the squad car on his motorcycle. He wasn’t alone. Judy Stitch sat behind him, arms around his waist and a police helmet on her head.
Gilly gave the thumbs up, which Ainsworth returned.
In the rearview mirror, Truax spied a black Cadillac pulling up close behind the cruiser’s tail. “What’s this joker on about? What kind of a nut tailgates a cop?”
“Just slow down. Get behind Gilly and let him pass. We have bigger rabbits to braise than a reckless driver.”
Truax eased off the gas and slid into the other lane. The Cadillac immediately roared ahead, nearly clipping the cruiser as it passed.
In the few seconds that the two cars were even with each other, Ainsworth, Truax, and Andie’s eyes went wide.
The Cadillac was occupied by two men in the front, and two in the back. They were all sitting up straight and staring dead ahead through beady black eyes.
“Beaks,” Truax said. “Those guys have beaks.”
“My God, it’s happening.” Ainsworth’s hand moved down to unholster his gun. “I thought it was just a children’s song, but it’s real. It’s really happening.”
“What is?”
“The Animal Uprising.”
“The what?”
“You know.” Ainsworth broke into song.
>
There’s nowhere to run and nothing to do
When you’re stuck in the middle of a chicken coup
You used to sleep soundly but that was before
You found yourself fighting a gorilla war
You’re getting farm reports that you can’t digest
And you just didn’t expect all this pheasant unrest
Beware of the moles when your secrets are deep
And light up one if by lamb and two if by sheep
Andie joined Ainsworth in the chorus.
It’s an animal uprising
Really quite surprising
This animal uprising
Really quite surprising
The Caddy pulled clear of the cruiser and drew even with the motorcycle. Both Gilly and Judy made the mistake of turning their heads and looking at the car at the same moment that the beakman in the passenger seat turned and looked out the window. The hideous sight of the bald, beaked man, coupled with Judy’s piercing scream, was enough to startle Gilly into losing control of his bike.
The motorcycle swerved dangerously from side to side before Gilly slammed on the brakes. The Cadillac pulled ahead as the bike flipped end over end. Both Gilly and Judy were catapulted off, with Gilly landing on the road. Judy, being the much lighter of the two, sailed high over Gilly, and landed on the roof of the speeding Cadillac with a dull thud.
Truax desperately slammed on the brakes and the car squealed to a halt, missing Gilly’s skull by no more than a few inches.
While Ainsworth and Truax jumped out of the car and rushed to their fallen partner, Andie watched from the backseat as the Cadillac sped off down the road with an unconscious Judy Stitch draped over the roof of the car.
As Judy and the Cadillac faded in the distance, Andie saw the beams of light disappear as suddenly as they had appeared.
“Oh, Dale,” Andie muttered to herself, “I really hope you’re not straddling a giant flashlight right now.”