Read Online Hellhole by Gina Damico - Free Book Online

more searing grease. “Listen—”
    â€œYou got any stolen lard?” Burg crossed to the cupboard and began to noisily open and slam shut its many wooden doors.
    â€œNo, we don’t. Stop that!” Max jumped up and held the doors shut. “Keep it down!”
    Burg put his hands on his hips. “How can you not have lard?”
    â€œI don’t know, because it’s not 1965?”
    â€œFine. FINE.” Burg approached the refrigerator. “Butter will have to do.”
    Max watched, dumbfounded, as he removed several more items from the fridge. “What did you do, embezzle the whole breakfast section?”
    â€œPretty much,” Burg said, dropping a couple of eggs onto the floor. Yolk splattered up onto Max’s bare shins. “Good thing I did, too. This kitchen was tragically understocked. What do you people eat, dirt?”
    Max cupped his hands around his eyes to form blinders, as Burg’s tighty whities had startled to jostle in a way that Max did not care to behold. “No. Peanut butter sandwiches and granola bars, mostly.”
    â€œUnacceptable.” Burg opened the box of butter and removed a fresh stick, which he unwrapped by peeling down the sides of one end like a banana. He wiggled his eyebrows at Max.
    â€œEw,” said Max, catching on. “No.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDon’t.”
    â€œI’m gonna.”
    He chomped away half the stick of butter, leaving a perfectly formed bite mark. “Glaaaaaghmmmuuugh!” was approximately the noise he made, slurping it around his mouth. “Want a bite?”
    â€œNo!”
    Burg narrowed his eyes, the centers of which started to glow red. “Eat the butter, Shovel.”
    Max thought carefully before he spoke, something that he realized he would have to start doing much more often from now on. “But if you give some to me,” he said slowly, “there will be less for you.”
    Burg continued to glare at him, then abruptly laughed and slapped a greasy hand on Max’s back. “Smooth move, kid. There may be hope for you yet.” He placed the bacon plate on the table.
    Max took a slice and shoved it into his mouth, chewing and thinking. Ruckus slunk into the room and rubbed up against Max’s legs, then began licking the egg that had splattered there.
    â€œListen,” Max said finally, turning back to Burg. “We need to—”
    But instead of looking into Burg’s face, Max found himself staring at empty air.
    He looked down.
    Burg had dropped to the floor. He was kneeling with his body folded, head down and arms straight out in front of him, as if bowing to a supreme being.
    Max blinked. “What . . . are you doing?”
    â€œI didn’t realize you had a cat!” Burg said into the linoleum.
    Max looked at Ruckus. Ruckus licked his chops. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
    Burg glanced up but quickly bowed his head several more times, his hands clasped in supplication. Ruckus scratched behind his ears and left, unimpressed.
    â€œIt’s a thing I should have been made aware of,” Burg said testily, getting back to his feet once Ruckus had left the room. “Cats are to be feared. And
loved,
of course, and
respected!
” he shouted, for Ruckus’s benefit. He lowered his voice and eyebrows. “But also feared.”
    â€œI don’t get it. You’re scared of cats?”
    â€œI’m not scared of anything. But cats . . .” He blew out a puff of air and shook his head. “Those soulless eyes. That depraved indifference. Cats are
evil,
dude.”
    Max thought of the claw scars decorating his own skin. He couldn’t disagree. “Well, I’ll keep him out of your way. He seems to be avoiding you anyhow.”
    â€œNot that he wouldn’t be welcome!” Burg shouted after Ruckus with a defensive, nervous chuckle.
    â€œShh!” Max scolded. “Listen, we