Knock knock knock.
This house had a nice BMW in the driveway, with an ichthys bumper sticker. The house, though small, had a Christmas wreath on the front door and advent candles in the windows— a perfect customer.
A bald black man answered the door.
“Hullo, sir. I trust you are having a good day. What might I call you? How are you this advent season?”
“Hello, hello! I’m Chris. Chris Jackson. Do come in! What a beautiful December day, praise God!” He stood back, leaving room for the Bang-Bang Bible Salesman to enter without any real effort.
“Hullo Mr. Jackson! I have a real nice set of Bibles here that I am just certain you’ll be interested in.” The salesman held up the briefcase, opening it for the customer to get a look inside.
“Ha-ha! Lord in heaven. You know, son, I’ve got quite the collection of Bibles upstairs! As it happens, I’m the pastor of the church down on Harrison. Perhaps you’ve been, though I don’t recognize your face— is something wrong?” Chris had noticed a brief change in the salesman’s demeanor. Nothing permanent, only a flash of excitement in the salesman’s brow.
“No, no! I am quite all right, excuse me. Say, Mr. Jackson, do you live alone?” The salesman fidgeted with the back of his shirt— Chris guessed he was tucking the back of his shirt in.
“Please, call me Chris, and though I’m in the market, right now I have no one. Well, I guess you could say I’m single. Anyhow, I don’t live with any—”
Two shots exploded in quick succession and Chris Jackson ceased to be. The Bang-Bang Bible Salesman stepped over him and replaced the gun in his waistband. He ascended the stairs. In a room with a bed the salesman assumed to be Chris’s, he found the answer to his prayers—fourteen different Bibles lay scattered across shelves, the bed, and a desk. A fifteenth was found in the drawer of the bedside table. He opened his briefcase and reorganized the books in order to fit as many new ones as he could. In the end, he only managed seven, but he replaced two of his least favorite from the original case.
Faint sirens rang through the windows. It was only a matter of time until they arrested him off the street, but he was not afraid. He simply would not stroll home along the street. He would hide.
Outside, the evening sun slowly fell behind a line of trees and the December air kept his face chilly. Looking first right, towards the first house of the day, then left, he spotted a few potential hiding spots, including the sewer, several cars that were either unlocked or that could be unlocked, until the perfect cover came into sight.
In front of a quaint, single story home with no garage, the Bang-Bang Bible Salesman noted a Lincoln Town Car— evidence enough that the residents were quite old. As if to validate the miraculous nature of the discovery, a light came on in the house. He trotted across the street, and arrived at the final house.