Lick Your Neighbor Read Online Free PDF Page A

you pignut!”
    “That’s what you want? You broke into my house to steal John Alden’s diary? Ha! The jokes on you, pal. That thing is worthless.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it wasn’t written by John Alden.”
    “Of course it was,” the farmer said.
    “No, it wasn’t.”
    The farmer stood up, his fists clenched. “I say it was, damn you.”
    “Nope. I have it on good authority that the diary was written by some wacko. Some idiot. Some…fart sniffer.”
    The farmer took a step toward Dale. “You take that back.”
    “I will do no such thing. And if you take one more step toward me you’ll get the business end of this plunger.”
    “Get it where?”
    Dale raised an eyebrow. “Where do you think?”
    “I have an idea but I’d rather not say.”
    “Say it.”
    “No!”
    Dale made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. He then thrust the plunger handle through it. “Say it, farmer!”
    “You’re going to shove that up my arse, aren’t you?”
    “Bingo.”
    The farmer sighed. “Look, just give me the diary and no one has to get anything shoved up their arse. For once.”
    “No can do. I don’t have it.”
    “I’m warning you. Either I get that diary by the count of three or else I shall unleash the Duxbury Psycho Assassin Hellhounds upon you.”
    “The what ?”
    “It wasn’t my idea, okay? They came up with the name themselves. I just use it because I know it makes them happy.”
    “Makes who happy?” Dale asked. “Is that a gang name? You’re bluffing. There aren’t any gangs in Duxbury. Well, the Girl Scouts can be kind of thuggish when they’re trying to move all those cookies, but that’s about it.”
    The farmer held up a finger. “One.”
    “And do they really need the Hellhounds part? Psycho Assassins seems adequate.”
    The farmer held up a second finger. “Two.”
    “Hey I’m the one with the plunger here, pal. I should be doing the slow, ominous counting. In fact, I think I will.” Dale held up a finger. “One.”
    “Three.”
    The sound of the doorbell ringing bonged throughout the house.
    “Honey!” Andie shouted from downstairs, “I think it’s for you!”
    Dale turned his head and called out “Hang on!” When he looked back the farmer was gone. All that was left were his footprints, which led to the open bedroom window.
    “What the hell?”
    Dale walked over to the window and looked out. The farmer was nowhere to be found.
    The sound of the doorbell ringing for a second time snapped Dale into action. He rumbled down the hallway and stairs, paused to check his appearance in the foyer mirror and fixed his hair, and then slapped himself for acting like a prom date. He shook a fist at the mirror and shouted, “Act like a man goddammit!”
    The doorbell rang again and Dale swung the door open with such force that it slammed against the wall. Undaunted, he took up a stance in the doorway with his fists on his hips, his legs spread wide, chin aimed at the sky.
    Officers Ainsworth and Truax both gave Dale the old up and down, unimpressed.
    “Are you Dale Alden?”
    “That depends.”
    Dale licked his thumb and flicked his nose. He wasn’t sure what that was supposed to accomplish, but he remembered Bruce Lee doing it a lot and looking pretty badass in the process.
    “Who wants to know?” Dale asked, “Or should I ask, who has what it takes to find out?”
    Dale raised one eyebrow at the cops. Then he lowered it and raised the other eyebrow. Then he raised both. Then lowered them. This is going really well .
    Ainsworth and Truax gave each other that look that cops give each other when they’re both wearing sunglasses and have just seen some suspicious behavior.
    “The Duxbury Police Department wants to know,” Truax said, “and I think we have more than what it takes to find out.”
    Both officers tapped their guns, bringing Dale out of the movies and back to his foyer.
    “Right! Ha, ha. Of course. Um, I’m Dale. Dale Alden. At your service.” Dale bowed.