Lick Your Neighbor Read Free Page B

wow, how now brown cow, holy Mary mother of Christ on a stick, my mind has been blooooown.”
    Dale looked at his wife for a moment and then bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “See how easy it is?”
    Dale grabbed The Duxbury Times and leaned against the kitchen counter. He flipped to the back of the paper. On the last page, in the left bottom corner, there was a short article with the headline ‘Historical Society Makes Rare Find, by Dale Alden.’
    Dale quietly read to himself.
    “With Thanksgiving Day arriving tomorrow, your friends at The Duxbury Historical Preservation Society are pleased to announce a momentous discovery. While shifting through the town archives last week, Society President Dr. Theodore “Mayflower” Jenkins found a leather-bound diary at the bottom of a chest that was filled with old shipping records. The diary is that of John Alden, one of the original passengers on the Mayflower, and a founder of Duxbury. As the language and handwriting are both difficult to understand, Dr. Jenkins, who holds a PhD in linguistics, is currently translating the diary into modern English. For example, the unknown Native American word ‘Auwaog’ appears throughout the text, and much research will have to be done to find its meaning. As there are only two other known accounts of the first Plymouth Thanksgiving—both of which are very brief—Alden’s diary promises to offer fascinating insights into what daily life was like for the Pilgrims as they planted the seeds that eventually blossomed into the America we know today. Dr. Jenkins—”
    “Oh speaking of Jenkins,” Andie interrupted, “he called when you were in the shower.”
    “Oh good. He must be done transcribing Alden’s diary. Toss me the phone.”
    Dale caught the phone and dialed as Tommy reached for another cupcake.
    “Mayflower Jenkins speaking.”
    “Morning, Mayflower. It’s Dale. What’s the good news?”
    “It’s a goddamn fake.”
    Dale swatted away a cupcake that was being shoved in his face by Tommy. “Say again?”
    “John Alden’s diary. It’s a bunch of hooey.”
    “Are you sure?” Dale asked. “It looked so authentic. It was so…dusty.”
    “I was up all night transcribing it. The beginning starts out all right, but it quickly devolves. Some parts of the diary are not only highly improbable they’re downright, well, nutty. I tried to give the author the benefit of the doubt, and I did some research in an attempt to confirm his account. But some things in there are so preposterous that they’re beyond confirmation.”
    “What about that word you said was interesting. Auwaog.”
    “I did some digging at the library. The Auwaog were a small tribe of Native Americans who lived in Massachusetts. Not much is known about them since they disappeared soon after the Pilgrims landed, most likely due to smallpox. This so-called diary has another theory on what happened to the Auwaog, but it’s so preposterous and disgusting that I don’t care to repeat it. Besides, I wouldn’t want to spoil your holiday supper with such nastiness.”
    “Do you think someone planted the diary for us to find?” Dale looked suspiciously at Andie. She winked back at him from over her tea cup. “Some wiseass playing a practical joke perhaps?”
    “No, I don’t think so. It was most certainly written in the 1600s. I showed the diary to a friend of mine who’s a document preservationist and she confirmed that. But if it was indeed John Alden who wrote it, then he was either writing fiction or he was completely bonkers. I tend to believe the latter.”
    “Now look here, Mayflower. That’s my ancestor you’re talking about.”
    “I don’t know what to tell you, Dale. Fish don’t talk, men don’t dance with deer, and turkeys are certainly not…hang on, someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back.”
    Dale glanced at his son. “Tommy. Tommy.”
    “What, Dad?”
    “You have frosting on your face.”
    Tommy wiped his mouth,