Ad Nauseam - By C. W. LaSart Page 0,24

his Buick, the lovely scent of her perfume and sweat mingling with her hairspray.

In the junk drawer he found a lighter and flicked it, getting a long flame on the second try. They had both quit smoking when the grandkids were born, but Kristi loved candles and always had a lighter around. Not giving any thought to the fact he still wore nothing but his ratty bathrobe over his boxers and customary white t-shirt, William walked outside.

The ladder was still up against the side of the house and he paused, scratching his head. He thought he had put it away. He never left his stuff out. Something wet bumped his hand and he actually screamed, pulling it back in. Devon let out a concerned woof and cowered, fearful of being struck. The sight made William’s heart ache.

“Oh Jesus, boy. You really scared me.” He scratched the dog behind an ear and Devon kicked one back leg in response, blissfully trying to scratch an imaginary itch. William stared up at the roof, seeing only the occasional fluff of the squirrel’s tail as it strutted around.

His mind spun with bits of his conversation with Max as well as images of things he had forgotten he’d done, like screaming at his class, a fight with Kristi. Had he hit her? Could I ever hit her? He shut the thoughts out, his focus on nothing more than that taunting red tail and the smug little rodent it was attached to. His anxiety and fear formed into a ball of white-hot rage, causing bile and acid to churn and eat at his stomach lining.

“You little son of a bitch, I’m getting you once and for all.” William gripped the can of hairspray in one hand and climbed the ladder using his free one. When he reached the top, he swung one butt cheek onto the roof, his free hand grabbing the shingles for support. He felt cold inside, an icy resolution stealing his nerves. “Come on, you bastard. This ends today.”

The squirrel held his ground, locked in a stare-down with William that lasted several moments. Neither made a sound as William reached into his pocket to retrieve the lighter. He waited, but the squirrel simply stared, not coming close enough for him to get it. He could see a wound on its shoulder where he had shot it with the pellet gun, but it had scabbed over and the squirrel didn’t appear any the worse for wear.

Devon let out a howl, startling William, and he almost slid off the roof. He glanced at the dog and heard an awful screeching, turning in time to see his tormentor come barreling across the shingles towards him. He didn’t have time to aim, simply pressed the button on the aerosol can and flicked the lighter.

The flame was impressive, shooting out several feet and igniting the rodent. He realized too late what was going to happen and leaned backwards to avoid the squealing, flaming demon that hurtled towards him like a bullet. Losing his footing and pin-wheeling his arms, he fell from the roof. Then his head hit the ground and the world went black.

***

William really wanted to stay asleep, but something warm and wet kept smacking him in the face. A high-pitched whining intruded on his slumber and the wet thing moved to the side of his head. This caused a flash of pain that made his eyes pop open, only to close back to slits as the afternoon sunlight stabbed his brain. Then Devon’s jowly face mercifully blocked out the sun, and a renewed round of licking ensued.

“Devon. Stop.” William chuckled weakly and tried to push the dog away. Why am I on the ground? Did I faint? Was it a stroke? He was confused, and when he tried to sit up, a thunderous pain ripped through his skull. Then he remembered.

The squirrel.

He slowly did a careful inventory of injuries. His head still thumped and his ribs on the right side were a mass of radiating agony, but other than that he felt fine. Sitting up slowly, he saw a decent- sized rock covered in blood where he’d been laying.

Must’ve hit my head on the bastard. Lucky I didn’t split my fool skull open. Probing the wound on the side of his skull with shaking fingers, he decided his original assessment may have been premature. His head didn’t feel exactly intact anymore.

That left the mystery of his ribs, but he quickly surmised what had happened when he