The Missionaries by Alan Catlin

There they are, those Mormon kids,
always in pairs. Bad news always comes
in pairs. Just ask Wild Bill Hickok.
Funny, one time a few years ago,
I was waiting for a bus, watching these
kids work a block which could be described
as “not the most desirable neighborhood
in town” and I thought these guys must be
Fearless. Or really, really stupid.  Probably
both. Nah,  definitely both.  Anyway, I watched
them ring a bell for an upstairs apartment,
over this gyro place, and I thought, man,
are you guys are like a week too late.
Cops hauled some guy’s ass out of there
for murdering some dude and having
the body on hand, you know, like mutilated
and stuff. Might even have been more than
one guy, I forget.  Bottom line was,
there was some talk about cannibalism.
Hushed that right  the hell up.  You know
how the Cable News Network’s loves shit
like that.  Can you imagine if those kids
had been there earlier, rang that doorbell and
a disembodied voice, through a speaker phone
thing said, “Sure boys, come right on up.
I’d love to talk to you.”  And the minute
they got up there, he’d hold the door open,
clock the second one through, and tie the
other dude up before he knew what happened.
By the time the first guy came to, he’d be trussed
up too and all he’d be able to do was watch…..
Didn’t happen, though.  Too bad,. What they
should do, you know, the authorities, instead
of locking those psycho killers up, they should
send them in pairs to some place like Salt Lake
City, make them go door to door and see what
happens then.  Would make “In Cold Blood”
look like soft core porn.  One thing for sure,
it would cut down on all that annoying,
imported-from-out-of-state, door to door solicitation.

Alan Catlin
Alan Catlin is the poetry editor of His latest books of poetry are American Odyssey from Future Cycle and Last Man Standing from Lummox Press

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