Tad’s face was hard and pointed. His voice crackled a little. “Bishop Barber sent us,” the smaller boy said. He looked a little like a cat, wide-eyed, wary but trying to be indifferent. “Bishop Barber?” I asked. “Why?” Tad asked. Fear mixed with courage changed the colors around the boys to a dark yellow, shot through with greasy green. The tall one swallowed and the small one held out a hand. “I’m Paul,” he said. We stared at him. “We want none of it,” Tayla said. Tad put a hand on Tayla’s shoulder. She glared at him. “Wait,” Tad said. “Bishop Barber,” the tall boy said, “thought you might want a little spiritual guidance.” “Guidance?” I asked. “Help,” Paul said. Tayla growled. I wanted to close the door but Tad stopped me. “We thought you might like to hear about Our Heavenly Father.” That was when things turned odd. Miss Tris came flying out of the kitchen wrapped in the curtains and nothing else. Her dick and tits wagged and bounced. The Mormons gasped and froze. They looked from me to Tad, from Tayla to Miss Tris. “Evening boys!” Miss Tris cried. She was bright and lovely and divine. The Mormons paled. The colors around them burned yellow and green. Something in me snapped. Laughter filled the room. “Kisses!” Miss Tris cried, rushing forward.
The Mormons stumbled and turned. They didn’t run, not quite, but they hurried. Tayla lay on the floor gasping and choking with laughter. “Told you,” Tad said. He did. He told us and he delivered. This was a forever story.