Lick Your Neighbor

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by Chris Genoa


  A shot range out and the baby bird was blown to pieces.

  “Got him!” shouted Bradford. “Ha! Killing these stupid birds is going to so easy, even a dewberry could do it!”

  And then, chaos. Hundreds of Turkeys exploded out of the Indian’s homes like bats out of a cave. At first they swarmed in every direction, swirling around the village, darting this way and that at impossible speeds. The sound of them knifing through the air and buzzing overhead was almost as loud as the screams from before.

  We fired into the Turkey swarm as fast as we could load our weapons, and many birds fell. With the quickness, their bodies piled up on the ground and on top of the huts. Some flopped around wounded, but many were killed in the instant.

  If they had continued flying around the village as they were, even though their number was great, we would have been able to kill them all in short time. But that was not to be. All at once the Turkey swarm suddenly scattered into the woods. Like the ripples from a rock thrown into the water, they fled in every direction. We each pursued them into the forest as far as we could, shooting and killing as we ran, but it was hopeless. The birds flew faster than we could ever run, and they scattered so thoroughly that it was like chasing sand in the wind.

  I returned to the village to find Captain Standish sitting on a pile of dead turkeys with his head in his hands.

  “Captain,” I said, “what do we do now? What’s the plan?”

  “Plan, John? You want to know the plan? There is no fobbing plan. We’re cooked.”

  “There is another way out of this,” said Bradford. “It came to me just now. All we have to do is kill Jasper Eberly, and the spell shall be lifted.”

  “Of course!” the Reverend exclaimed. “The highest witch authority known to Man, Francesco Maria Guazzo himself, wrote that the truest way to lift a spell is to burn the witch who cast it. And once the spell has been lifted, we shall owe nothing to Satan. Oh we are saved!”

  “But if the spell is lifted,” I said, “the Auwaog will transform into Savages once again. Then we shall be right back where we started.”

  “John, you are truly a loggerheaded clack-dish,” said Bradford, “Do you not see the piles of dead fowl around you? Their number has been greatly reduced. They will not be nearly as formidable a foe when they return. Oh yes, Eberly shall burn and all shall be well. Now let us celebrate with a dance. A manly dance! Huzzah!”

  While they danced, my mind was elsewhere. It was on Eberly. We had given him our word that his life would be spared, and yet now we were going to betray him. I decided that I could not let him die. Killing a horde of strange men and women was one thing, but killing a man who I had called my friend? I could never live with myself after doing such a rank deed.

  While the others continued to dance, I acted. I left the Auwaog village and returned to the tree where the Eberly Turkey was. I untied him, and the bird immediately flapped his strong wings and took flight. As he hovered in the air, a few feet above my head, he looked down and spoke.

  “Thank you, John.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The turkey started to fly away but then stopped and turned to me again.

  “Oh and just so you know, all that scut about you having to kill the Auwaog was, well, a lie.”

  “But you said we would be cursed, Ely.”

  “Oh you are most certainly cursed, John. But it is I who has cursed you and those foot-licking friends of yours. Not Satan. Do you really think that a little speck of nothing like me could ask a god, whether he be Good or Evil, for a favor? Ha!”

  “But why, Ely? Why curse us?”

  “Why? Because this Land and I are the same. We are wild, we are beautiful, and we are free. All things which you and your kind will take from us. I tried making everyone on the Mayflower sick, thinning out your numbers, but what good will that do? More of you will come. So now I have done this deed for the Auwaog. I have saved a small piece of this beautiful Land from the cages and leashes you will use to master it. The Auwaog are free to live as they please. As am I! And as for you, your curse is life. For what better curse for a miserable dewberry than more time to be miserable?”

  “But this is a New World, Ely. A vast untouched continent. Surely there will be enough room here for everyone to do exactly as they please. Room for some People and Lands to be wild and beautiful and others to be tame and…dull. Perhaps this New World is the Almighty’s final gift to his flock. Our last chance to get it right.”

  “Ha! Be sure to get in touch with me when people start getting it right, John. Until then I choose to live my life as a bird, eating worms and pooping on rocks. Tis a far more nobler pursuit than living with the likes of you.”

  And then the Eberly turkey flew off at a great speed, quickly disappearing into the thick trees. And I was left alone, the betrayed and the betrayer, with no hope of salvation. For my fate lies not with God, and not with Satan, but in the hands of one man.

  And that is the most horrifying thing I have ever known. Because I know that the one man is me.

  —John Alden

  17

  Giving Thanks

  Uncle Pookie sat at Dale’s dining room table peering closely at a steak knife. When he was satisfied that it was clean, he put the knife down and picked up his wine glass and held it up to the light. A grin spread across his face as the light illuminated a thumbprint on the rim of the glass.

  “Waiter! Waiter!” he shouted, snapping his fingers.

  Randy came stomping out from Dale’s kitchen. He was also sporting a shiny new black eye. Fist and jaw clenched, he walked over to the table. “What is it this time?”

  “This glass is filthy. It’s disgusting. Do you really expect me to drink out of this? I might as well drink out of a toilet filled with diarrhea.”

  “It looks fine to me.”

  “Fine? You call that fine? Do you not see the smudge? It’s the size of your ass. Huge. Do you know what a smudge is? It’s residue. Just listen to that word. Residue. It makes me nauseated just saying it. I don’t want someone’s else’s smelly skin oils on something that’s going to touch my lips. The same lips, sir, that I use to kiss my mother.”

  “Now listen here, you little piece of shit,” Randy said, “I’m getting close, real close, to shoving that glass up your lily white asshole.”

  “Ah ah ah. That doesn’t sound like five-star service to me. The perfect spleen of Saint Quadragesimus would not be pleased.”

  Randy snatched the glass out of Pookie’s hand and stomped back to the kitchen. Pookie looked across the table and honked his red nose at Tommy, who was happily munching on a dinner roll.

  Silas chimed in from Pookie’s right. “Serves that bastard son of mine right. What kind of a man loses a fight to a clown? Thought I raised him better than that.”

  “A clown once stole my virginity, and he has yet to return it,” Judy said. She sat next to Officer Gilly, her eyes were glassy and there was a small speck of foamy spit that had taken up permanent residence on the corner of her mouth.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Pookie said to Silas. “Us clowns are a proud, noble race. Over the course of history many great men have fallen at our hands. Like my father, the late, great Captain Boom Boom Baggy Britches always said, ‘Cross a clown, time to frown.’”

  Mr. Feathers raised an eyebrow as Pookie grabbed a dinner roll and tore a chunk off with his teeth. Feathers watched the clown gnash away like a wolverine before taking out a small, worn notebook and quickly writing down Captain Boom Boom’s advice. As Feathers wrote, Shi De Qian’s head materialized on the page, in the form of a pencil sketch. Shi looked over at the words Feathers wrote and frowned.

  “Actually,” Shi said, “I believe the saying goes ‘Cross a clown, his panties turn brown.’”

  Pookie leaned over, peering at the page. “What was that?”

  Feathers slammed the notebook shut. A muffled “Ow!” was heard. “Nothing,” Feathers said.

  In the kitchen, Ra
ndy went over to the sink and took off one of his shoes and socks. He poured a tiny dot of soap onto the sock, added some water, and then went about vigorously scrubbing Pookie’s glass.

  “What are you doing?” Dale turned from where he was carefully placing a small handful of miniature marshmallows on top of a casserole dish filled with candied yams. He was trying to arrange the marshmallows so that they looked like a portrait of Ben Franklin flying a kite, and he was damn close to nailing it.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m washing that bastard clown’s glass with my sock.”

  “You lost fair and square, Randy.”

  “I know.”

  “To a clown.”

  “I know.”

  “The least you can do is honor your bet with some dignity.”

  “I am honoring it. Because I am a proud man. A man of dignity and respect. But if bozo asks me to re-wash one more thing I’m going to use my soiled underwear to do so.”

  Andie came in from the backyard wearing a full-body silver fireproof suit and goggles. In her hands was a perfectly golden brown deep-fried turkey on a large metal skewer.

  She flipped off her goggles and grinned. “This bitch is cooked! Let’s eat!”

  Dale frowned and shook his head.

  “You’re still not upset about the deep frying, are you?” Andie asked.

  “No it’s not that. It’s everything else that happened. I’m not really in the mood for celebrating the Pilgrims right now.”

  “Can’t you just forget all that for once? You’re about to sit down to a delicious meal with your family. Celebrate that. Celebrate being with the people you love. It’s called Thanksgiving, Dale, and you can give thanks to whoever or whatever you want. Who cares about what happened three-hundred years ago? What the hell does all that nonsense have to do with us and with this meal?”

  “But it’s who I came from, Andie. If my ancestors were evil, what does that make me?”

  “They weren’t evil, Dale. They were people just like you and me. They were good and bad. They were courageous and terrified. They were industrious and arrogant. They were wise and they were…”

  “Dewberries,” Randy said.

  “Yeah,” Andie agreed, “they were dewberries.”

  Dale smirked. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Of course I am.” Andie kissed Dale on the cheek and then placed the turkey onto a platter on the kitchen table. “I’m going upstairs to change out of this fire suit. Can you two manage putting the food out by yourselves?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks. And don’t forget the custard cream sauce and caramelized bacon sprinkles for the bread pudding!”

  As Andie darted out of the kitchen, from the dining room Pookie called out, “Waiter! Oh, Waiter! These dinner rolls are too hot! They’re damaging my precious taste buds! I need you to blow on them! Waiter!”

  Randy grabbed the electric knife from the counter. “That clown’s head is coming off.”

  “Wait, take the turkey in with you,” Dale said. “I know it’s silly but I don’t want to be alone with that thing.”

  As Randy left the kitchen with the turkey and knife, the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Mr. Bradford?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Mr. Alden, this is Officer Ainsworth of the Duxbury Police.”

  “Oh, hello, Officer. What can I do for you?”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt your supper, but we just wanted to let you know that Mr. Eberly has disappeared.”

  “Oh God. How?”

  “Not sure. He was in the hospital, unconscious, with two officers standing guard at the door. A nurse came out and said that his heart had stopped beating. But when the doctor got there, Eberly was gone. It was like he just vanished. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m sure he’ll turn up. Anyway, I also wanted to let you know that there won’t be any charges against Mr. Tinker. We checked and there’s an old state law that says that a catapult is a reasonable response to a firearm. Who knew.”

  “Well that’s good to know. What about the uh, farmers?”

  “They’re all on their way down to Plymouth.”

  “Plymouth? Why?”

  “Psychiatric evaluation at Jordan Hospital. Hopefully those doctors will be able to convince those kooks that they aren’t really pilgrims. Oh and one more thing. It turns out that those four guys with the beaks must have been wearing some kind of masks.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. On my way to call you, I stopped by to check in on them in their cell. And wouldn’t you know it, they all had normal human mouths. But they sure were acting funny. All of them were touching each others lips and teeth with their fingers as if they’d never seen a person’s mouth before. Bunch of wackadoos. Anyway, I figure they must have flushed their masks and contact lenses down the toilet when we weren’t looking. It’s just like my father always said, ‘Never believe a damn thing.’”

  “That’s some sound advice.”

  “Ain’t it though? All right then, just thought you should know what’s going on. We’ll find Eberly soon enough and then you won’t have to worry about any more of this turkey business ever again.”

  “Thank God for—”

  The sound of scraping furniture on the floor and people screaming exploded from the dining room.

  “Mr. Alden? Mr. Alden? Is everything okay? I thought I heard screaming? Mr. Alden?”

  Dale ran into the room and saw everyone standing as far away from the table as they could get. Tommy was holding onto Andie and Silas, Judy was clinging to Gilly, and Pookie and Randy were clutching each other. Feathers was the only one who still sat at the table, his eyes wide.

  Dale’s gaze quickly settled on the thing everyone was trying to get away from. Curled up in the fetal position on top of the serving platter was a golden brown, perfectly cooked, naked, headless, body of a Native American woman.

  Dale walked over to the dining room window and opened it to let some fresh air in. A chorus of horrified screams could be heard coming from almost every house in the neighborhood.

  Andie joined Dale at the window. They listened to the screams of their neighbors for a moment before turning to each other. Both of their mouths opened, but no words came out. They stood there stunned like that until Tommy tugged on Dale’s sleeve.

  Tommy looked up at his parents with tears forming in his bright, brown eyes.

  “We can still eat the bread pudding, right?”

  The End

  About the Author

  Chris Genoa is the author of Foop!

  He lives in Brooklyn, NY.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Lick Your Neighbor

  PART I: TURKEY IN THE STRAW

  1 Murrrrrder

  2 This Pribbling Ship

  3 Meat on a Rope

  4 A Brief History of Gus

  5 The Great Hashbrowns Debacle

  6 Disappearing Savages

  7 Blowing Kisses in the Cell

  8 Bradford’s Fobbing Rock

  9 Oh You Old Donut

  10 Candy, Pie and Hugs

  11 The Wild Will of God

  12 Birds of Discord

  13 Hello, Fishy

  14 The Perseverance of the Twinkie

  PART II:TURKEY IN THE HEY!

  1 A Chill in My Loins

  2 The Lost Art of Turkey Cookery

  3 The Horror of Harry and the Hendersons

  4 Roasted Neck of Turkey

  5 A Fungus Among Us

  6 Toot, you say?

  7 Attack of the Mohawk Turkey

  8 The Squirrel Man Cometh

  9 Bird Boy

  PART III :Turkey on the Plate

  1 Dr. T’s Sarsaparilla

  2 A Knotty-pated Mess

  3 Step Back, Repulse Monkey

  4 The Marquise of Queensbury

  5 We the People

  6 Le Roi du Crazy

  7 Blinded by th
e Light

  8 Dancing in the Moonlight

  9 The Man with No Flap-Dragon

  10 The Animal Uprising

  11 I told you! I told you!

  12 A Most Best Laid Plan

  13 Send in the Clown

  14 Unleash the Dragon

  15 Incoming!

  16 A New World

  17 Giving Thanks

  About the Author

 

 

 


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