Lickery

“I want some waltzin',” Rose said. “And a long, lickery good-night kiss!”

“You know, a big lickery kiss, like the one we seen Roy Gribbs lay to Ethel McCormick the other day when we was peekin' at them from the branches of that ol' cottonwood tree.”

As insults, rips and profanes unsettled the tree tops, the dogs of demonism concluded licking up Thump's plasma, secured glares back up. Thump merely gave them appetizers. Their hungers teased, their eyeballs bristled with deep craving. “Hounds've finished their lickery...” observed Zeth.

And all I could think of was: Come on, Stevie, give me a great big lickery kiss.