Lick Your Neighbor by Genoa Chris

Author:Genoa, Chris [Genoa, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous Stories, Humorous, Science Fiction, United States, Comedy, Massachusetts, Humour, Turkeys, thanksgiving, clown, Extraterrestrial Beings, Alternative Histories (Fiction), ninja, Thanksgiving Day, Pilgrims (New Plymouth Colony), Pilgrims
ISBN: 9781936383061
Google: 7fYskgAACAAJ
Amazon: 1936383063
Publisher: Eraserhead Press
Published: 2010-07-18T23:00:00+00:00

Strange fungus in me belly

Shiver me timbers

6

Toot, you say?

Excerpt from the diary of John Alden

FEBRUARY 3, 1621

Yesterday, Captain Standish took Mr. Ely, the Reverend, Ratsbane, Giglet, and myself on another expedition to try to meet and befriend the Savages. Along the way we saw a stunning Eagle soar overhead. With a wingspan of at least ninety inches, long black feathers on its body, and a snow white head and tail, it was possibly the most beautiful Creature I have ever seen. Never have I felt more Free than, with all of us gazing up at the powerful Eagle gliding proudly over this untouched New World, Captain Standish lifted his rifle and shot the bugger right out of the sky. Perhaps the bird forgot that Pride is one of the most deadly of Sins. Now if only Standish would do the same with Governor Bradford, himself, and all the other dewberries of prey in our group then maybe things would get better.

Famished from our long hike, we cooked and ate the Eagle right then and there, and I tell you it was delicious. It tasted just like Mutton. I imagine those sinfully proud and yet utterly delectable Birds will become a staple of our diet.

Whilst we ate, some confusion arose when Mr. Ely removed his hat. It was the first time the other men had seen Mr. Ely’s marvelous head in full, as he wears the tricorn hat night and day, and even sleeps in it. Naturally I have seen him many times unhatted, because what’s a little hatless fun between friends? Nothing, that’s what.

The moment Mr. Ely’s mane of black hair was set free from the hat, the good Reverend wiped Eagle juice off his mouth and asked Mr. Ely where he lived before joining the crew of the Shiteflower. Mr. Ely told the Reverend that he hailed from Sussex.

“Did you say Essex?” the Reverend asked, leaning in so close to Mr. Ely that he almost touched his nose.

“Sussex,” Mr. Ely repeated.

“Without your hat on you look somewhat familiar to me,” the Reverend said, “I could be wrong, but didn’t I see you in Essex just this past August?”

Mr. Ely told the Reverend that he has never been in Essex in his entire life.

“What business did you have in Essex, Reverend?” asked Standish, an Eagle’s foot dangling out of his mouth.

“I was sent there to observe a group witch trial.”

“Fie! I hate witches,” Giglet said.

“Me too,” Ratsbane chimed in, “A witch killed not one, not two, but three of my sheep with her spells.”

“Did she cause them to fall ill?” Standish asked.

“No. Even more devious than that, she made me forget to feed them. And as if that wasn’t enough devilish harm, she also made me toot in church.”

“Toot, you say?”

“That’s right. Right when my very own daughter was reading from the Good Book, out comes a most thunderous belly bang which shook the very foundation of the Church. I could practically hear those witches giggling afterwards.”

Giglet asked the Reverend if the witches in Essex were burned.

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