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Suckers - J.A. Konrath

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I took a closer look. Sniffed. It smelled familiar.<br />

“Do you have pictures?”<br />

“I will. Send the money to my PayPal account. My email is... oh god...”<br />

The odor was rotten meat and formaldehyde. Somehow, while I was in the coffin, I’d gotten<br />

a hunk of dead flesh up my nose. Dead flesh covered in boogers. And a nose hair.<br />

I leaned over and puked up the coffee, Danish, and Advil. Eighteen bucks and change, shot<br />

to hell.<br />

“Mr. McGlade? Are you there?”<br />

I wiped a toe through the puke, looking for the Advil. They were probably still good.<br />

Instead, I saw something that made me want to quit eating forever.<br />

Part of a human ear.<br />

I got closer, sure it had to be some coincidentally-shaped chunk of chewed Danish.<br />

No, it was an ear. The upper, cartilagey part. I often nibbled women’s ears when we were<br />

fooling around. I must have got caught up in the role-playing and bitten off a hunk.<br />

“Mr. McGlade?”<br />

“Scratch that. I want triple.”<br />

“That’s outrageous.”<br />

“Lady, I went to third base with a dead guy last night, all because of your husband. Pay me,<br />

or find some other schmuck to do your dirty work.”<br />

“You did what with a dead guy?”<br />

“Don’t believe me? You want to talk to him?”<br />

I held my cell phone over the ear. Then I realized I was acting a bit hysterical. Maybe I was<br />

still asleep, and this was just a dream.<br />

I felt my backside, wondering if the pain in my ass was truly from sitting on my keys, or<br />

from something that was still up there...<br />

I stuck my hand inside my pants, reaching down the plumber’s crack...<br />

It’s a dream, it has to be a dream...<br />

A pigeon waddled over, pecked up the ear, and ran off. My fingers crept closer...<br />

“Mr. McGlade?”<br />

A dream, all a dream, just a harmless dream...<br />

And then I touched the severed end of something that shouldn’t be there. Something that felt<br />

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