Backteria and Other Improbable Tales by Richard Matheson Read Free Book Online Page A

swimming around his nose and biting it. This made the house laugh so hard that it didn’t watch where it was going. Suddenly, it crashed against a big tree — KABOOM!! The roof went one way. The walls went another way. Everything fell off, fell apart, fell in and fell down. It made a lot of noise.
    Professor Fritz and Willy and Manfred got out of their car and walked over to the wreckage.
    “Boy, what a crazy mess,” said Professor Fritz. “Not to mention all the furniture running around loose.
    “I hope you learned your lesson,” said Willy.
    “Oh, sure I did,” said Professor Fritz. “Next time I make things come to life, I’ll make sure they don’t get so fresh.”
    Willy groaned and sank down on what was left of the sofa.
    “Oh, wow, what next?” he said.
    “I don’t even want to think about it,” said the sofa.

Purge Among Peanuts
    The zoo was almost empty as Mr. Jones walked slowly down the stairs with a scowl on his face.
    A seal bark caught his ear like the cough of an ancient smoker. He could smell the flood of freshly cut grass and the toasty scent of warm leaves.
    He made a wry face.
    He passed a daddy carrying a junior on his shoulders. History repeats, mused Mr. Jones without favor. Some junior was probably carried on Roman shoulders to the arena to see Christians get digested.
    He passed a row of wastebaskets and looked at the empty Crackerjack boxes as though they were hollow souls.
    He stopped in front of the seal pool. His glance touched the sign. With my salary, I should feed them, he thought. And as for annoying them, I have better things to do.
    The sun was ingot bright. Mr. Jones stared dully at the cool green water. He thought there were worse things than being a seal.
    Suddenly a black whiskery monster poked its head out of the water and honked its horn at Mr. Jones.
    Aaah,
shut
up, thought Mr. Jones. Stop shoving. Everyday it’s the same. Shove. Shove. I bet you love it you bum. Watch the doors! You and your goddam watch the doors!
    Then Mr. Jones smiled benignly at the seal.
    Won’t perform unless there are more people will you? You performer you. A black zoo fly sat down to rest on his elbow. He brushed it away impatiently and walked directly to the pheasant cage.
    There were little boys looking at the birds. A poppa was feeding the birds. The sign said, do not feed. Mr. Jones sighed. Watch ‘em gobble gobble, said the poppa to his blonde-haired angel child nodding mutely.
    The pheasants looked around in bobhead curiosity.
    Your pigeon cousins walk in freedom. You sit in the cage in glorious Technicolor. Walk on wet concrete. Nibble at popular peanuts. Watch the beady eyes and strut.
    Yeah! Strut you little minx. I know you. Can’t take a joke. Always, “Oh Behave Yourself Jonesy” or “What Would Your Wife Say If I Told Her?” or “I’ll Tell The Boss On You.” Well, the hell with you, you little minx, I know you.
    Mr. Jones walked to the fox cage. He looked at the scrawny red excuse for the sign.
    Well, they sure beat you. No more chases. No more holes to run in. Slide along the earth into the cool belly of the mountain, panting and sparkle-eyed; happy.
    Mr. Jones pouted as he walked away from the red fox. The trees are green. I can see them through the bars.
    He passed a truck of green acrid-in-the-nose hay. Why can’t we eat hay? Relative anyway. A filled gap is a filled gap.
    Two pigeons scurried out from under his feet and continued their walk with gentle histrionics.
    “Come
on
, come
on
,” said Mr. Jones under his breath, snap it up. Watch the doors.
    He stopped and looked between the thick bars at two great moldy buffalo. He saw two baby buffalo standing behind their parents. Born in a public park. Sign of the times.
    “Buffalos!” came a little girl shriek.
    Mr. Jones turned away in distaste. My daughter does not open her mouth like that when she is looking at something.
    Mr. Jones said to himself: I wonder if animals talk. People say no but how do they