Lick Your Neighbor by Chris Genoa Read Free Book Online Page A

him.”
    Thus began the meteoric rise of Gobbling Gus as Duxbury town mascot and local celebrity.
* * *
    Six years later, Dale found himself looking up at that same turkey.
    “Gus.”
    “We know it’s Gus, Dale,” Truax said. “What we want to know is why you killed him.”
    “I didn’t kill him.”
    “Then how did your rope get around his neck?”
    To his horror, Dale realized that he recognized Gus’s unfortunate new neckwear. He had an entire spool of it in his shed. He’d found it in a rack next to the register at Home Depot, on sale for ninety-nine cents for five-thousand feet of rope. Even though he had no conceivable need for that much hot pink rope, it was just too incredible of a deal to pass up. As long as I live , thought Dale, I’ll never have want of rope . He could finally cross something off his list for good, even if that something was never on his list to begin with.
    “There’s a massive spool of that same rope in your shed,” Truax said, “Have more hangings planned, Dale?”
    Dale looked over and wondered why the hell they put windows on sheds.
    “Does anyone else know the combination to the lock on your shed?” Ainsworth asked.
    “No,” Dale said, forgetting that the sticker with the combination on it was still on the back of the lock, telling anyone who bothered to look that 24-56-8 would give one unlimited access to a lifetime’s supply of rope.
    “And last night, did you or did you not run into Mrs. Stitch?”
    “I did.”
    “And what transpired between you two?”
    “Um, well, she asked if I wanted to make a donation to the Save Gobbling Gus Fund.”
    “And what did you tell her?” Ainsworth asked.
    “I said money’s kind of tight right now.”
    “Too tight to help a local hero fight his battle with cancer, Dale?” Truax asked.
    “I’m not paying a turkey’s chemotherapy bills.”
    Truax spat on the ground. “You heartless swine.”
    “Are you sure you didn’t tell Judy to, and I quote,” Ainsworth said as he flipped open a notepad and read, “‘Get away from me Judy before I stuff that damn bird up your ass and roast you both in the oven.’”
    Dale laughed nervously. “Ha, ha. Okay maybe I did say that. But you’re taking it out of context. I had a really long day at work yesterday, and I was dead tired. I had a pounding headache, I was starving, and my lower back felt like it had a knife in it. You know how it is. Life is hard, okay, and sometimes, sometimes , I feel like murdering everyone I see. Including my dear sweet family. So yes, I snapped at Judy. Big whoop. What are you going to do about it? Arrest me? For being in a foul mood and wanting to murder everyone? Wanting , mind you. Not doing. Is that a crime ? I think not. Wait, is it?”
* * *
    As Dale sat in the backseat of the police cruiser, a troubling thought entered his mind. The last thing that Andie said to him before the cops took him away was, “I’ll call a lawyer.” She didn’t say which lawyer, and that’s what had Dale worried.
    She’s going to call Randy, he thought. I’m toast .
    Dale closed his eyes and tried to send a telepathic haiku to Andie.
Your dumb drunk brother
If he is my only hope
My pants I will shit

5
The Great Hashbrowns Debacle
    W ITH BLOODSHOT EYES, R ANDY T INKER LOOKED up from his desk into the gum smacking face of his secretary. “Bring me coffee. Black. Two soft-boiled eggs. Runny. White toast. Slightly burnt. And hashbrowns. Burnt. Once that’s done, you can deal with these bills.” Randy squinted at the three-foot high stack of papers on his desk. “I swear I just heard them growl at me.”
    Randy’s secretary Donna, dressed in a pastel uniform dress and an apron, started her morning the way she always did.
    “I’m a waitress, Randy. Not your goddamn secretary.”
    Randy’s “office” was the small back supply closet of the Duxbury Diner. A gleaming black and gold sign on the grease-stained door read “Tinker, Goldberg, and Slaughter,