Free Lick Your Neighbor by Chris Genoa

to shit on before Thanksgiving? I suppose next you’re going to tell me that the Pilgrims didn’t land on Plymouth Rock.”
    “Well they didn’t actually land on it.”
    Truax put his hands over his ears and walked off singing “la, la, la, la,” leaving Dale and Robert alone.
    “I’ll see you on the outside one day, Dale.” Robert kissed his biceps and then blew the kiss to Dale, who instinctively reached out and snatched it out of the air. The moment his fingers closed, Dale realized he’d made a mistake. He stared at his fist. What the hell was he supposed to do with it?
    Robert looked concerned.
    The longer Dale held it, the more real the kiss became. They both stared at his closed fist in horror.
    Robert pointed at Dale’s hand and, trembling, demanded, “Give that back.”
    Dale had a decision to make. He could blow the kiss back to Robert, throw it to the floor in disgust, put it to his own lips, or, he could hold it hostage until he was out of that cell. Hoping it would ensure his safety, Dale chose the latter.
    He put his fist behind his back and, defiantly, spoke. “No.”
That kiss you sent me
Carelessly blown from wet lips
It’s mine now, asshole.

8
Bradford’s Fobbing Rock
    Excerpt from the diary of John Alden
    N OVEMBER 18TH, 1620
    Governor Bradford came across a somewhat large White Rock on the beach today. He would not stop talking about it.
    “By the eyes of the Corinthians, would you look at that Rock!” he said. “I think I’ll go stand on it. Lo, the view from up here is spectacular.”
    The rock was maybe a foot in height.
    Bradford continued, “Is this great, or what? Now this is why we crossed the ocean. To stand freely upon mighty Rocks such as this. Everyone, everyone look at me. I said look at me, you tottering foot-lickers! There, that’s better. Now, I want everyone to know that I saw this White Rock first and that therefore it, and all such similar White Rocks upon this Land, are mine by law. What law? How dare you ask me that. God’s law, that’s what! The same law that says that the Land set here before our eyes is ours, for we were the first tame creatures ever to set eyes upon it. That’s right I said tame creatures. Wild creatures don’t count. If so the squirrels would own everything, and we can’t have that. A currency based on acorns? Nightly prayers to the Walnut god? I think not! So, from here on out let this Rock be known as ‘William Bradford’s Plymouth Rock.’ And if I ever catch one of you stepping on it with your filthy feet, then you will be punished in a most painful manner. I do not want to ruin the surprise for anyone, but it involves my hand, an oar from the boat, and your head.”
    As we marched along the beach I pondered the Rocks and Cod, two things which men on the Shiteflower have gotten awfully possessive about. I find it strange. Why bother laying claim to them when there seems to be enough for everyone to enjoy? It is like two mice fighting over an entire loaf of bread. Save your fight for the crumbs, vermin.
    —John Alden

9
Oh You Old Donut
    O UTSIDE THE POLICE STATION THE CLOUDS began to salivate. The wind picked up. A groundhog poked his head out of his hole, sniffed the air. He shook his head and went right back inside.
    Randy sat in his station wagon in the police station’s back parking lot, putting all his strength into turning the ignition. The car refused to start.
    He banged on the dash.
    “Start, you indifferent bastard!”
* * *
    On the other side of the building, Dale walked out of the station accompanied by Truax. Dale’s lip was busted, his hair tussled, shirt untucked, and his hand empty of a certain pair of imaginary lips.
    “Your lawyer said he’d pull the car around,” Truax said. “Need anything from me before I go? Swift kick in the crotch, atomic wedgie, anything like that?”
    “No I’m good.”
    “Maybe next time.”
    Truax went back inside as Dale collapsed onto a bench by the curb.
* * *
    Behind the