Free The Call of Distant Shores by David Niall Wilson, Bob Eggleton

ain't she?"
    Jasper gulped more beer, rocked forward and gained his feet.   He staggered forward, reached out a hand to steady himself against the truck, and then reached up to run his hand over polished wood that literally swam with tiny intricate detail and what appeared to be words, or letters, or symbols.   Who knew?   Who the fuck knew and who cared?
    "It's a ... double-D goddam COCKROACH," he pronounced in amazement.
    "The world's largest," Bobby Lee agreed, cackling.   "Ain't she a beaut ?   I picked her up down at the flea market.   They tried three weeks to sell her, but nobody knew what they was lookin' at."
    "They didn't know it was a cockroach?"   Jasper turned, his face a wrinkled map of confusion.   "How they hell could they not know that?   The fucking thing's seven foot tall, Bobby."
    It was all of that.   Rising up so that its antennae floated above the cab of the truck, the gigantic wooden vermin leaned to its left, apparently off-balance, setting the truck off-balance.   The detail was amazing, like some sort of ART or something.   Jasper scratched his head, tilting his hat back to facilitate the motion, who in HELL would go to that kind of trouble for a goddam cockroach?
    "She's a antique," Bobby continued.   "Feller said he didn't know how old it was.   Picked it up at an Indian camp about ten years ago.   Had her in his barn ever since, but his wife said it had ta go.   They don't make a Raid can big enough, so here she is."
    Bobby was still grinning.   Jasper was still frowning.
    "But," Jasper formed both thoughts and words carefully, and this one was a corker.   Nothing in his experience had prepared him for it, and so he had to figure it out, one word at a time.   "Why?"
    "Why what?" Bobby asked.   "Why did his wife want him to get rid of her, or why aren't there giant Raid cans?"
    Bobby had sense enough to back up at this, raising his hands and laughing.
    "Easy, hoss ," he said.   "Hear me out.   You ever been out west?   I have.   I traveled out to Kansas once with my Pa.   There's some mountains over there where ... well, anyway, I went there.   You know what we saw along that highway?"
    "Fields?" Jasper guessed, trying to follow.
    "We say fields, for sure," Bobby grinned, "but there was something else.   We saw the world's largest Prairie Dog.   We saw the biggest ball of string ever, and we saw the footprints of dinosaurs, pree -served in the mud.   Every time we saw one of them things, you know what we had to do?   We had to pay.   You know what Pa said every time, just as we left?   He said was suckers.   Didn't stop him from wanting to see the world's largest sausage link, or from payin ', but he knew.   I know too.   That ain't a cockroach, ol' buddy.   That's a goldmine."
    Jasper was still staring up at the wooden monstrosity.   It's eyes glittered in the sunlight, polished and seeming to glare down at him from their cocked, off-kilter angle.
    "What the fuck are you talkin ' about, Bobby.   It's a damned roach. A BIG roach, no mistakin ' that, but a roach.   A goddam filthy infest-yer-house and eat your chicken roach.   Where's the money in that?   Hell, anyone sees it now, they won't buy my fruit."
    That's your problem, Jasper," Bobby said with true sorrow in his voice.   "You ain't got the VISION.   That's why I'm here – why I'm gonna share this good fortune with you.   I'll tell you what we're gonna do."
    Jasper listened, staring up at the roach, a tickling, creeping sensation transiting his spine as he did.   He didn't like it.   The damned wood was slimy to the touch, and no wood that weren't growing mold should feel that way.
    "We're gonna get that damn shed of yours," Bobby went on, "and we're gonna set it up right out yonder."   He pointed to the back of the produce stand.   "We're gonna put ol' Papa Roach here inside, and then we're gonna make some signs.   All up and down 17 we'll have advertisements.   Ten miles to the World's