Feeding the Mormons Candy Morning After Halloween
by Doug Draime
I was hung over and in my ratty old robe drinking some strong black tea
and sorting through the mess
on my work table that I call my career, when there was a knock on
the door. I staggered, feeling like the living dead, downstairs and opened it.
And there were 2 Mormon kids in their white shirts, black pants and black ties
and black shoes. Before they could go into
their wind-up smiling pitch, I reached into a bowl of candy
sitting on the ledge by the door,
that my wife had left there
to appease the trick or treaters,
to destroy the teeth of small innocent children.
“Hold out your hands”, I said to the Mormons.
They looked at each other confused, then
back at me. “Hold out your hands,” I barked.
They shot out their right hands
as if they were short circuiting, their eyes wide
like babies.
I filled each hand with equally large amounts of
miniature tootsie rolls and
Kraft caramels.
“No offense,” I said, “I already believe
in God but I’m not much of a joiner. Enjoy.”
I smiled, gave them a little wave
and shut the door. I watched them from the window
as they went down my steps,
shaking their heads and laughing,
each carefully picking a piece of candy
from his hand, sticking the rest
in a pocket and walking off down the street,
continuing on their mission
to save this pitiful world,
with my abundant contribution of
Halloween candy.
