|The two men in dark suits donned their sunglasses and got out of the black town car. Looking around to make sure their approach was clear they walked up the driveway, avoiding the manicured lawn, to the door of the bungalow.
As they approached one of them pulled a giant golden trumpet out of his jacket, “ What the...” said the older of the two dark haired men. “ What in heaven’s sake are you doing? Put that thing away.”
“ Sorry Sir... Er, but regulations say we’re supposed to announce our arrival,” said the young man sheepishly stuffing the gigantic horn back into his small suit coat.
“ Geeze, you rookies and flair for drama, lesson one kid, no drama,”said the older man pointing at the doorbell. “Just ring the bell,.”
“Okay,” replied the younger man pushing the bell.
Moments later a frazzled middle-aged woman came to the door."You Jehovahs?" she quizzed, "I told you once before we’re not interested."
“We’re not, and we appear to have the wrong house; I apologize, ” replied the older man smoothly. And then pushing both of them back down the driveway to the car, he admonished the younger man. “ Agent Mortimer, does that woman look like a seventy year old man, stricken with emphysema and liver cancer to you?”
“No,” gulped the younger man. “ I don’t, It’s... I swear the book., that’s supposed to be Pat Peterson’s house.
“Calm down, “ chuckled the older man shaking his head as they got into the car, “No big deal, we can swing by Mr. Peterson’s correct address later. I told you reaping souls isn’t as easy as it looks. Let’s make this lesson number two; always double check the book, especially on genderless names. Now, get your sickle ready, we’re going to have to work fast to stay on schedule.
© Copyright 2011 Sci-Fi Rob (UN: bobsetsfire at Writing.Com).
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