Drizzled With Death by Jessie Crockett Read Free Book Online Page A

his feet up on the bench. Tansey moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, like he was still a joey himself. Graham disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a fifty-five-gallon gray plastic trash can in his hands. He held the lid like a shield and made a clucking, smooching sound at the kangaroo. She swiveled her ears in his direction but her eyes were focused on Roland’s bass. She bounced toward it and the delicate underpinnings of the arthritic building trembled.
    Roland scrunched his shoulders together like he was attempting to make himself disappear behind the instrument, but he did no better than a small child hiding under the covers to avoid monsters in the closet. His freckled knuckles clutched white on the neck of the bass. Sweat sprang up on his forehead like there was a sprinkler system tucked in behind his eyebrows.
    Graham navigated the terrain well, considering how little space was available for a trash can between all the booths, tables, and music enthusiasts. The kangaroo hurtled forward into Roland and his instrument just as Graham attempted to upend the trash can over its head. The bass crashed against Roland and knocked him off balance. The kangaroo feinted right and Graham left, and the only thing Graham managed to slip his trash can on top of was the music stand Roland was using before the music had come to a crashing halt.
    All hell broke loose. The inside of the Stack Shack erupted into a flurry of activity. It was as though a film crew had descended on Sugar Grove and asked adults to reenact a food fight from high school days. Waffles and sausages and a criminal waste of syrup littered the floor. Hash browns and home fries provided enough slipping hazards to support the need for a physical therapy clinic in town. Coffee flowed like spring snowmelt across the black-and-white-checkerboard tile. In among it all, the kangaroo and her baby dashed and darted and squeezed shrill shrieks from the most stalwart of New Hampshire countrymen. Men who from early childhood had accompanied their elders on journeys deep into the woods for hunting trips, camping trips, and firewood-cutting missions were laid low by this exotic creature running amok in their beloved breakfast establishment.
    Emboldened braggarts hugged the walls whenever the kangaroo made a foray in their direction. Armed only with musical instruments and butter knives, they quivered like Chihuahuas in a New Hampshire winter. There would be much to talk about in the post office Monday morning. All tales of past glory were negated as men with bear heads mounted over their fireplaces leapt onto the countertop where they habitually enjoyed morning coffee to remove themselves from the dangerous clutches of a mother kangaroo and her tiny offspring. In a singular act of courage, Mindy Collins, the church organist and an experienced den mother, opened the main door to the Stack Shack. The kangaroo took the hint and bounced out through the opening. Graham followed in hot pursuit. My only sorrow was not having seen him do the same the night before when I informed him about the mountain lion.
    I caught Piper’s eye over the disheveled heads of the other Griddle and Fiddle participants. We had known each other since she taught me how to squirt milk through my nose the first day of third grade. We both got sent out from snack time into the hall in order to think about our behavior. We had enjoyed getting into trouble together ever since, but I don’t think either of us had ever imagined trouble quite like this. I know I never had. If our third grade teacher could have gotten ahold of that kangaroo, something a whole lot more drastic than time-out in the hall would have been on her mind. I don’t think that mammal would have gone out to recess for the whole school year.
    Everywhere I looked, there were sticky spots and broken china. Flatware and ruined meals carpeted the floor. This did not even begin to address the condition of people’s