The doorbell rang and no one else was around. I did not want to answer the door but after ten minutes I couldn’t handle the suspense of not knowing who it was any longer so I got out of my armchair throne smelling of my own body odour, inhaled one parting whiff of said throne and tap danced down the hallway.
I opened the door and beheld a Mormon.
He stood in the heat with sweat dripping from his armpits and a city of flies in his soiled crotch. He had a week-old neckbeard scruffier than mine. Immediately my atheist sensibilities were offended, and as he pissed himself in greeting I decided that I would defeat him through the powers of my wit and argument rather than by closing the door on him.
Firstly, I puffed up my cheeks to make my neckbeard more impressive, although I still held secret jealously for his beard. Next I reached into my pants, detached my testicles and poured their contents onto his ratty fedora.
He did not take well to my rational discourse. Huffing angrily, he pulled a crumbled up pamphlet out of his pockets and unfolded it. The pamphlet was made from an old newspaper and had a crude doodle of a dog with human breasts drawn in blood on it. The Mormon grunted profusely and attempted to hand me it. I took it and spat on it.
In response he puffed up his neckbeard so much that his face turned purple and expanded like a balloon, while he projectile vomited all over my porch. Clearly this was not a Mormon to be defeated by my testicles so I reattached them and thought about my options.
What I really wanted to do was pour the contents of my cat`s litter box onto him, but to do that I would have to leave the doorway and my debate with him. It is not fair how these Mormons can bring all their arguments with them everywhere they go while I must leave my arguments lying on bookshelves and the internet where they are out of reach.
My time was almost up and I had to think of something. Quickly I pressed my cheeks together, spewing the contents of my pimples over the vomit on the porch and onto the preacher`s semen-covered fedora. He was not amused, so he blew boogers at me.
It was a cheap response so I abandoned civil discourse and stepped into the puddle of puke, dropped my pants and pooped little goldfish into his finely crafted mouth leavings. The goldfish were perfectly at home in the sea of vomit and began picking away at the chunks of his beliefs in a rude manner.
The Mormon farted. By this I took him to mean that I had offended his honour. To show him what his church meant to me, I removed all of my teeth and shook them in my fists while I hooted like an owl. By this time the goldfish had finished with the puke and were busy fucking. Angrily, the Mormon held up his hands and lurched away from my house.
Leaving the mess on my porch for the neighbours to see, I returned to my chair, pleased with my success. My victory was short lived because I soon realised that I still held the pamphlet in one hand. Curse that Mormon! He succeeded in spreading his religious propaganda into my home. Everything was soiled.
To sooth my ills I watched My Little Pony for twelve hours.
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bio: Madeline loves coffee so much that she removed her blood and replaced it with coffee. Her heart is a black filter and her brain is old grind and her fingernails smell like yesterday's cup of joe. Her goal in life is to create an army of coffee people and start a coffee circus where coffee related things will happen.
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