Cookie Cutter Man Read Online Free

way down smacked his head on the kitchen sink.
    People would later tell him how lucky he was that he hadn’t
hit his head at a different angle. How lucky that the cut on the back of his
head hadn’t been just a little worse. How lucky he was not to have
cracked his skull wide open or maybe bled to death on his kitchen floor.
    In his later days he’d look back and wish his life had just
ended there on the cool linoleum, before it had a chance to go down the drain.
     
    He came to in a painfully bright hospital room. The smell of
antiseptic and urine was faintly detectable over the cheap air freshener the
janitors used.
    “My head,” Daniel managed to say through the grayish haze of
narcotics and pain. Color and feeling started to swim back into his world and
the heavy rhythmic thumping in his skull dulled to a manageable level. He
focused his eyes and propped himself up on an elbow.
    “Easy, son. You took quite a whack on the noggin,” a voice
said. At the foot of the bed was an insectile-looking doctor with a pervert’s
grin on his face and a stethoscope around his neck. The doctor was a praying
mantis for a moment, until Daniel blinked himself back to reality.
    Dude still looked a little like a bug.
    “You sustained a mild concussion Mr ... ah–” the doctorbug
checked his charts, “–Rimms ... large laceration on the cranium ... thirteen
stitches ... prescription ...”
    Daniel halfway listened, gleaning the minimal amount of
information until Echo walked in.
    “Oh sweetie, your head!”
    He lay back on his pillow and held her hand. The doctorbug
clucked his disapproval of a loved one daring to interrupt his in-depth and
thoroughly entertaining diagnosis.
    “What happened to you? I came home and found you in
a fucking pool of blood!” Her voice cracked and she began to cry. He put a
comforting hand on her shoulder and she bent to give him a hug. The doctorbug
left the room, and they were free to talk.
    “Were the police really there?” Foggy recollections blurred
in and out of his mind.
    “Yes, there were police, and an ambulance! I called 9-1-1
when I found you.”
    “9-1-1 ...”
    “What was I supposed to do, Daniel? I thought someone broke
in and shot you or something.”
    “No, angel. You did good. What did you tell the cops?”
    “Well, they told me you had to give them a
statement when you woke up.”
    His head swelled at the prospect of dealing with Johnny Law.
“OK, listen. I saw a roach and–”
    “What roach ?” Echo asked, and then thought of his ... condition . “You have to ignore those, remember? You know they had the
whole building fumigated a week ago.”
    “I know, but that’s what I’m going to tell them.”
    “What are you going to tell me ?”
    “Nothing, until we get home. As far as these fucking pigs
are concerned, I saw a roach and went after it. I slipped on the kitchen rug
and that’s the last thing I remember. OK?”
    She stared at him in silence for a moment and nodded. About
10 minutes later the doctorbug returned, this time with two uniformed officers
in his wake. Daniel told them his roach story. They listened, or pretended to;
one was jotting notes, the other was checking out Echo’s chest, both making it
clear they couldn’t give less of a shit about any of it, which suited Daniel
just fine. Soon he was released on his own recognizance and Echo drove them
home in silence. Daniel smoked and kept his eyes open, watching for station
wagons and the faceless G-man.
     
    “Ah! Shut off the light, huh?” Daniel sat on the couch and
shielded his eyes from the jagged halogen glow of the living-room fixture. Echo
lit a couple candles, and then sat next to him.
    Daniel opened his eyes and looked around. “What the fuck?”
The place was trashed, totally ransacked. He had made a mess, but not like
this. Two plants were knocked over, so was a lamp. The coffee table was lying
on its side and everything that had once sat upon it was scattered across the
floor. The