Lick Your Neighbor

by Chris Genoa

  “Men like me?”

  “There are dewberries, there are arseholes, and then there’s you and your friends. A bunch of fobbing arseberries.”

  “That’s it,” John said. “Step aside, naked Dale. I’m going to do what I should have done three-hundred and eighty-five years ago and kill this dirty witch!”

  As John took aim, the Cadillac came roaring over the hill. One of the beakmen stood on the roof of the car, as if surfing, his sword drawn and ready to strike.

  John eyed the Caddy and lowered the rifle. “A bullet really is too good for you, Eberly. It’s too quick and painless. I think I’d much rather see you die impaled on a sword.”

  “Maybe now would be a good time to call that flying goat you mentioned,” Dale whispered.

  Eberly shook his head. “Too late. We’ll have to fight them off ourselves.”

  “With what?”

  “Our fists! I thrashed them earlier today, and I can do it again.”

  “But that was when you could fly around like a cannonball.”

  “This is true.”

  “We’re going to die horrible deaths, aren’t we?”

  “Probably.”

  * * *

  Out from the woods surrounding Wild Willie’s Farm slowly crept an old wood and iron catapult. Randy and Uncle Pookie were behind it, pushing with all the strength they could muster. The wheels dug deeper and deeper into the mud.

  Randy grunted. “Are you mustering all your strength?”

  “I’m at full muster,” Pookie replied.

  “Well it feels like I’m doing all the mustering.”

  “Well you can go to hell because I’m mustering my ass off over here.”

  “Well I’m busting my plums over here.”

  “Your what?” Pookie asked.

  “My stones. My nuggets. My…Cracker Jacks.”

  “What in God’s name are you—”

  “My balls! I’m busting my balls, Pook!”

  “Well so am I!”

  “Ha!”

  “Don’t ‘ha’ at me! You ingrate, you worm, you, you…”

  Randy held up a hand. “Wait, wait.”

  “You poopytits.”

  “Hush!”

  “Why?”

  “We’re here.”

  The catapult had cleared the tree line and was now out in the open, with the barn in the near distance.

  Randy looked through his Happy Meal binoculars. “There they are. I told you his life was in danger.”

  Randy handed the binoculars over to Pookie. The clown looked through them and saw two men standing next to a tree, and a third sitting on a tree branch, holding a rifle. They were too far away to make out the men’s faces.

  Pookie squinted. “Which one is your brother-in-law?”

  “The one standing next to tree with clothes on. The naked guy next to him is some kind of witch.”

  “I thought witches were women and warlocks were men.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “One has a penis and the other a vagina.”

  “I know the difference between men and women, you twit. And for your information, the creature down there has neither a penis nor a vagina. So we can call him whatever we want.”

  “Good,” Pookie said, “then I shall call him Bonky Wonky Wiggles, or Bonk Wonk for short.”

  “He’s a witch, Pook. Not a damn clown.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather think of him as a clown. Makes me want to shit my pants less.”

  “Ah.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “Simple.” Randy rubbed his hands together. “We load this baby up with a rock, I pull this lever, and its bombs away. We’ll pick off those bastards one by one.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?

  “They have guns! We’re preventing a murder.”

  Pookie squinted into the distance. “Are you sure you can hit them at this distance? What if you hit your brother?”

  “My dear friend, I could hit a target the size of your nostril from this distance. I’m a crackshot. Now, while I position the catapult, I need you to look around for a rock. Something about the size of a bowling ball will do.”

  * * *

  The Caddie skidded to a stop in front of the tree on the hill. The ninja on the roof did a back flip and landed with his sword at Eberly’s throat.

  From the passenger side window, the ninja with the small knives jumped out and landed expertly, one knife aimed at Dale’s heart, and the other held just under his chin.

  The bo ninja rolled out from the driver’s seat and popped up a few feet in front of Eberly, his bo ready to take off the witch’s head with a single stroke.

  Out from the Caddie’s backseats came the nunchuck ninjas, along with Miles Standish, William Bradford, and Reverend Brewster.

  “Jasper Eberly! You fiend!” Bradford shouted. “Why have you returned? Why aren’t you a turkey anymore? Why do you have a naked man with you? I demand answers!”

  “Just wanted to stop by to see how you chaps were getting along.”

  “More lies from the witch,” Standish said.

  Farmer Brewster shook with fear. “He’s here to turn us all into various beastly creatures. Eagles, wolves, whales. As if he hasn’t given us enough burden already, now the fiend wants to saddle us with the burden of being an animal! Isn’t that so, devil?”

  “That couldn’t be less so.”

  “I say we burn him,” Bradford said, “like we should have done in the first place.”

  Standish held up a hand. “First we need some answers. Why are we still cursed? We’ve killed more turkeys than there are stars in the sky.”

  Eberly looked up at John. “Are you going to tell them, or shall I?”

  John shook his head.

  “Tell us what?”

  “You didn’t have to kill any turkeys,” Eberly said.

  Bradford’s eyes flittered. “Pardon?”

  “It was all nonsense,” Eberly explained. “Do you really think that Satan, or any god, cares about a few men do or don’t do?”

  “You mean to tell me that we’ve been obsessively killing turkeys for the past three-hundred years for nothing!” Bradford shrieked.

  “That’s right,” Eberly replied, “you’ve been wasting the gift that I gave you. Back then I thought it was a curse, but really I gave you a gift. The gift of time. Time to change your ways, forget the past, and become a part this land, instead of trying to be its master. But instead you’ve wasted it. You’d think that after three-hundred years you would stop for a moment, look around, and see all the beauty around you, just begging you to get lost in it. But no, all you see are things to conquer. Well not me. Since John let me go I’ve spent every day giving thanks to whoever or whatever created what’s left of this beautiful, wild world.”

  Bradford peered at John. “You let this devil go?”

  “Promise you won’t get mad,” Alden said.

  “Promise.”

  “I did.”

  “And did you know all along that we didn’t have to kill the turkeys?” Bradford asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “And instead of telling us, you decided to let us go on with all of this elaborate turkey killing and Thanksgiving promotion for hundreds upon hundreds of years?”

  “You must understand,” John pleaded, “I did it for us. Eternity is a long time. How would we have passed the time? Board games? Cooking classes? Staring into the middle distance? I know that our lives have been miserable, and filled with folly and wickedness, but misery is better than boredom right? At least we had a purpose. A common foe to blame our sorrows on. What was the alternative? No evil to fight, no purpose to guide us, no agenda. Chaos! Please don’t be cross with me.”

  “Cross with you?” Bradford shook his head. “We’re not cross with you, John.”

  “Really? Phew.”

  “We’re fobbing pissed!” Bradford shouted. “Let’s fill this arsehole with lead!”

/>   “But I gave you a gift too!” John cried. “The gift of hope. Don’t you see? I did what God Himself would have done!”

  Standish and the Reverend opened fire on Alden, pumping his chest full of bullets as fast they could pump their shotguns.

  John waved his hands. “Ouch! Ouch! Stop! Stop it! You know how much that stings!”

  “Enough,” Bradford said. “What’s the use? We can’t kill him as long as we’re all still cursed.”

  Bradford took the sword out of the ninja’s hand and held it to Eberly’s throat.

  “Prepare to meet the Dark Lord, witch!”

  “Wait! Didn’t you hear what I just said? I gave you a gift!”

  “Ha! Some gift.” The Reverend raised his rifle, taking aim at Eberly. “What about our freakish firstborn sons? Do you call them a gift too?”

  “I only did that so you’d each have a small, constant reminder of what happened to the Auwaog. And because, well…” Eberly barely repressed a smirk. “I thought it would be funny. But that was the old me!”

  “Using mutant children as reminders?” Standish also took aim. “Oh you are a dead man, Eberly.”

  “But if I die now terrible things will happen,” Eberly warned. “There was a ripple effect to the spell I cast and I need some time to set everything straight. Just one more spell and everything will be as it was.”

  “You’ve tricked us for the last time, witch,” said Bradford. “This time, you die. I’d say ‘May God have mercy on your soul,’ but I truly hope He doesn’t. Any last words?”

  “Fine then. If you won’t listen to me, then fire away. I have lived long and well, and I am ready to die. I’ll let you fools deal with the mess that I created. Look at that, I’m acting more human already! And I do have some last words. You don’t live as long as I have and not have a few words of wisdom to leave behind.” Eberly cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, the secret to life and happiness is simple. First and foremost, that stick that God shoved up your asses? Pull it out. Thus unencumbered, feel free to roam through this majestic country of yours. Climb the mountains, run along the valleys, beaches, and plains, swim in the lakes, and always fight the good fight, while remembering that a part of you, no matter how hard you and everyone around you tries to kill it, is just as wild and beautiful as a wolf howling at the moon. And finally, as hard as it may sometimes be, always love your nei—hang on, what that’s in the distance. By the tree line. Looks like a…catapult? Who are they kidding. They couldn’t hit an elephant at this dis—”

  A rock, falling from high in the sky and at great speed, smashed into Eberly’s head, sending him flying backwards. He was out cold before he even hit the ground.

  * * *

  Back by the catapult, Randy was hysterical.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no! I missed the naked witch! I killed Dale! Oh I am fortune’s fool!”

  “I thought you said you could hit a target the size of my nostril from here?” Pookie asked.

  “It was the wind! It shifted! Didn’t you feel the shift?”

  “Not really.”

  “It was slight. Almost as if God sighed. But it was enough to throw off my calculations. That’s what happens when one’s calculations are so precise. Down to the fifth decimal place!”

  “What calculations?” Pookie asked. “All you did was lick your finger and hold it up in the air.”

  “We gotta get down there, Pook. Fast. Dale could be bleeding to death.”

  “Right. Even though I’m wearing these massive shoes, I can run pretty fast.”

  “Are you kidding? It would take an eternity to run all the way over there. We don’t have that kind of time, man!” Randy hopped into the catapult basket. “Launch me.”

  “Have you gone madder than usual?”

  “Do it, clown, or I’ll launch you!”

  Pookie put his hand on the lever. “This is a terrible idea.”

  “It’s not an idea. It’s a plan, Pook.”

  “A worst laid plan.”

  “Well since it’s the best laid plans of mice and men that oft go awry, then this should work perfectly.”

  “It’s your funeral. Any last words?”

  Randy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “I…I…can’t think of anything. Look, if I die, make something up for me. Tell people I said something funny. There’s nothing worse than people getting all gloom and doomy at the end of the road. Make it light, make it funny, and make it memorable, damn you!”

  “Don’t put that responsibility on me!”

  “You will do as I say, clown! Or so help me Saint Burloga I will come back and I will haunt you!. Ghost Tinker! Every time you lay down with a woman I will crawl in bed with you and I will be naked! Try getting your shriveled plums off with a naked ghost moaning in your ear! Like this! Ooooooo. Ooooooo. Oooouuuuu!”

  And with that, Randy was launched high into the sky.

  * * *

  John Alden jumped down out of the tree. With everybody gathered behind him, he bent down over Eberly’s still body. Just above his eye, there was a huge welt in his head where the rock had hit.

  “Mr. Ely? Mr. Ely? Are you dead?” John asked, “I think he’s really dead.”

  “That means we’re free,” Bradford said. “Free at last!”

  The Reverend lifted his arms to the sky. “Praise the Lord! For He is good again!”

  Bradford, Standish, and the Reverend all broke out into a happy jig, the first time they had done so since February 20th, 1621. Their mutant sons joined in, and they all had themselves a proper hoedown.

  With their arms and knees pumping away, Bradford, Standish, and the Reverend all sang.

  With a jingle, bang jingle, bang jingle, bang jingle

  With a jingle, bang, jingle, bang jingle, hi ho!

  Hi ho?

  Hi ho!

  Hi ho, hi ho, hi ho!

  “Freeze, jingle bangers! Duxbury Police!”

  The dancing and singing came to an abrupt halt as everyone turned to see Officers Ainsworth, Truax, and Gilly standing in front of the Cadillac, guns drawn. Truax had one arm around the bruised and battered Gilly, helping him to not fall over.

  “I want those weapons on the ground, and everybody’s hands in the air,” Ainsworth barked. “Anyone tries something funny, and you’re all dead men.”

  “What should we do?” Bradford whispered. “Should we take them out?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Standish whispered back. “If the curse has been lifted, and they fire, then we’re dead. Which is what we’ve been trying to do for three hundred years anyway. If the curse hasn’t been lifted, then they can’t kill us, and we can blast them to hell. Either way, it’s better than going to jail.”

  “Agreed.” Bradford nodded. “On three we let them have it. One, two–”

  “Incoming!” Dale shouted, pointing at the sky.

  Impossibly, in an already impossible day, a chubby man was hurtling through the air toward them at a ridiculous speed.

  Randy slammed into William Bradford with such force that he took out everyone in range as well. Standish, the Reverend, Alden, and the beakmen all went down like bowling pins, their weapons flying out of their hands and onto the ground. In the distance could be heard the faint sound of a clown shouting, “Bull’s-eye!”

  When the dust had settled, the only armed men were the cops.

  Officer Gilly, propped up against the tree, provided cover with his gun while Truax cuffed everyone. Ainsworth knelt down over Randy, who lay spread eagle on the grass.

  “You okay, pal?” he asked.

  “What were my last words?” Randy mumbled. “Were they something like ‘Either these mutants go, or I do’? Or do I have to get freaky spooky with the clown?”

  “Poor guy. Brain damage.”

  Ainsworth moved over to Jasper Eberly, who was face down and motionless. Ainsworth felt for a pulse. “He’s alive. Barely.”

  “No! That can’t be!” Bradford shouted.

  “Truax, radio for an ambu
lance. Get some back-up out here too.”

  “What should I tell them?”

  “Tell them we have two men in need of medical attention, at least one with severe head trauma,” Ainsworth replied. He glanced over at Dale, who was sitting on the ground with one of the farmer’s hats covering his balls. “And tell them that we have several suspects in the deaths of Mayflower Jenkins and Gobbling Gus.”

  “What should I, uh, say about the beaks?” Truax asked.

  “You might want to leave that part out.”

  “Right.”

  “After you’re done with that, go fetch Mrs. Alden out of the cruiser. There’s an innocent man here who looks like he could use a hug.”

  “Right, got it.”

  Truax knelt down and wrapped his arms around Dale.

  “Shhhhhhhhh. It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Truax murmured, gently rocking Dale back and forth.

  “Not from you, from his wife!”

  Hairy arms round me

  Saying “hush little baby.”

  Damnit I’m a man!

  16

  A New World

  Excerpt from the diary of John Alden

  February 20, 1621

  Leaving the Eberly Turkey tied to a tree, Bradford, Standish, the Reverend, and I walked into the village armed with our fowling pieces, muskets, and a satchel of ammunition each. The sun was about to rise, and our guns were raised, but there was not a solitary Savage in sight.

  “Split up,” said Captain Standish. “Take up position around the perimeter of the village. When the turkeys come out of the huts aim well, and kill every last one of them.”

  The village was completely silent. It seemed as if the Auwaog had deserted the place. All I could hear was the thumping of my own heart and the voice in my head which screamed at me to run from that unholy place.

  Then I saw something. A fledging bird stumbled out of one of the Auwaog homes. If the village had not been so silent and so still, I never would have noticed such a tiny animal. But there it was, and I was spellbound. Such a helpless, fragile creature, venturing out into the madness of the world. How brave. How hopeful. How stupid.