They always came on a Sunday afternoon. They dressed the same, spoke the same, and had the same plan. Each time, I would warn them about their actions, citing it as soliciting. But they truly thought that their mission from God superseded the laws here. I had almost had it with these people. At least the Jehovah’s Witnesses had learned to leave me alone.
So, at about 3 o’clock each Sunday afternoon, I got ready for them. Sometimes I’d argue scripture with them, other times I’d just ignore their knocking. But this has gone on for long enough. It was time to test my newest little invention.
It was then that I heard the soft, gentle, annoying knock that I hear every Sunday. I’m sure that these LDS freaks had to practice this knock, it would only make sense, since they are practically militant in their conformity. I went and opened the door, leaning up against it.
“Good day, sir. Have you given you life to God?” the stocky man on the left said. The beanpole-shaped buddy by him reminded me of Laurel and Hardy. I thought that their question was slightly ironic, and chuckled.
“Well, are you prepared to give yours us in service to your god?” I replied, and slammed the door in their face.
“Um… yes we are!” he yelled through the door. Good, I thought. I pulled out my tranquilizer gun, with its nuzzle up to where the peephole should be covered with a lens. Too bad they didn’t notice it. I couldn’t see where I was aiming, so I tried my best to get mister pudgy. Judging from the thump I heard shortly, I got one of them. I re-opened my door, and saw the anorexic twig man start to run away.
“Hey, I thought that you were ready to sacrifice yourself!” I called out to him. I quickly looked around, noticing that nobody had seen me. I then dragged my new friend into my car, and left him to get serviced at my favorite strip club (with his own money, of course). It seemed like a fitting reward after getting shot for your faith in god.
As I paid off Suzanne to wake him up with a lap dance, I sat by the bar, waiting to see if this fat guy would leave, or let her do her job. Needless to say, I heard him wake up groggy, but very cooperative to Suzanne, and ended up paying her again. As he started to leave, he saw me at the bar, and hurried out, trying to hide his face. Suzanne came over to me, thanking me for an extra customer, who unwittingly paid twice for her.
“Hey, Stan, I got paid for 2 dances… care to have the second one?” She asked, biting her bottom lip in her usual sensual manner.
“Sorry, kid…” I started, sipping my drink, “…but I’ll take a rain check for when you hit eighteen.”
“Shit. How did you know? It’s my hair, isn’t it?” She asked, hoping that her boss didn’t hear what I said. The last thing that Lou needs is a few more cops in here, asking questions. If her secret got out, this place would be shut down by that same night. “I see you come in a lot with your friends, and they seem to like dancers my age and younger… why not you?”
“Suze, you remind me of my sister. There are some lines that I just won’t cross. I still have that rain check for later on, though, just in case.” I gulped my drink down to the very dregs, and saw her give a real smile, not the face she puts on for work.
“You’re kinda sweet, Stan. Tell you what. I’ll add a little interest to it, just for you.” And with her reply, pecked me on the cheek, and went back to her dressing room. I put down the money for my drink, and left for home. It bugged me that she was right, that I was just like my buddies that go there. I liked watching those girls corrupting and defiling themselves for my pleasure. But not Suzanne. If anything, I wish that she would quit. I felt like a hypocrite, but I didn’t care. She was different to me, and didn’t deserve to be there. She wanted to do better, something else than this, but she needs this job for now. I have heard my friends suggest that we hire her for our birthdays, because she seems like the kind of girl who would do anything for the right price and not tell anyone. Brendan in particular had his eyes on her, mostly on her ass. If my friends do hire her, I will make sure that nothing goes wrong like I have seen before.
As I got into my car, I pulled off of Sycamore and went toward the interstate. I didn’t get on like I normally do, but turned off to go say hello to my sister. She was on my mind since I saw Suzanne, and felt a need to pay my respects. I parked my car outside of the graveyard, and walked in. The dark night seemed clear, but a slight drizzle seemed to find me. I stopped at Sarah’s plot, and knelt under the pale moonlight.