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The following contains extreme violence and the word 'f*ck.'

Mitch seethed with fury. What brainless bastard calls round to see you just before a big rugby game? He stormed to the door and threw it open.
The two men stood looking at him. They each wore dark sunglasses, black suits and pleasant polite smiles.
"Sorry to..."
"Where the hell are you clowns from? The Matrix or something?" Mitch interrupted rudely and looked down to see the briefcases and of course the pamphlets. He understood immediately.
"Hello Sir. We'd like to take a couple of minutes of your time to talk to you about a few things that may help change your life and others around you. You see Brother Ron and I have been converted..."
"Fuck off." Mitch yelled and slammed the door in their faces. Fumbling fast he pushed the dead lock across. God they raised his ire, those bloody door to door salesmen of Jesus, who do they think they are, going around telling everyone what to believe in and who to pray to.
"Excuse me but we¡¯ll only be a couple of minutes."
Christ Almighty, now they were talking through the letter flap. Mitch lifted it up and sure enough there was one of the practiced smiles he had seen before, it lowered and he caught sight of a pair of sunglasses which were promptly raised to reveal two big friendly blue eyes. As soon as they saw him one of them winked. You can trust me Mitch they seemed to say but Mitch was having none of it.
"Take your shit and piss off!" He yelled at the door and smacked his fist into it. Once he calmed he realized that the two men hadn't left his doorstep and seemed to be discussing something. Mitch put his ear to the door but couldn't quite hear.

"Well" Brother Ron sighed, "I guess it's off to the next person on our list."
"No Brother Ron. I don't know about you but I'm sick to death of these people shutting the door on us and not giving us a chance to talk," Brother Nathan stood defiant, he had had enough, he was through with knocking on doors.
"Are you suggesting that we teach this wisearse a lesson Brother Nathan?"
"I'm suggesting we try a different approach." Brother Nathan looked at Brother Ron for a sign of understanding.
"You mean....?" Brother Ron motioned to the door with his head.
Brother Nathan answered in the way of a short nod to which Brother Ron responded in the way of a short nod. It was understood.

Mitch still had his ear against the door when he heard it. It sounded like a whirrrrring, like a..., surely not? But as he stood back in horror his worst suspicions were confirmed. Each time he heard the whirrring sound another screw would disappear from the doors hinge, one by one. He grabbed a coatstand to the side of the door and tried to brace it from falling inwards.
The door fell into the house, the brace tumbling with it. Everything slowed for a second as Mitch retreated and fell back over the coatstand. He crabbed backwards in a reverse crawl. The two men stepped forward into his house, from where he lay they looked huge. Each carried a cordless drill and the one of the left brushed a piece of dust from the shoulder of his suit. It was this man that began to speak.
"Brother Ron and I don't enjoy being dictated to by a good friend such as yourself Mitch. We tend to get a little," he looked at Brother Ron, "ill tempered."
"Perturbed I'd say," Brother Ron nodded, his voice like Brother Nathan's had changed from an enthusiastic carefree pitch to a slow clear monotonous tone.
"Now as I was saying, we'd like to take a couple of minutes of your time to talk to you about a few things that may help change your life and others around you. You see Brother Ron and I have been converted...¡±
"Convert this then fellas." Mitch kicked the coatstand at them cracking it into their shins. One of them grimaced. Mitch used the diversion to jump to his feet and rush back into the lounge. Brothers' Nathan and Ron looked at the coatstand blocking their way and then at each other. They raised their drills in unison and Brother Nathan smashed his foot through the barricade.
"The day of reckoning is upon you Mitch, it's come a-knocking at your door, it's come a-knocking through your door." The two men advanced forward towards the lounge as...

...Mitch cursed its new age simplistic design. His view quickly panned around looking for a place to hide. Chair, chair, couch, chair, TV, big old empty chest, chair, wait. He looked back at the big old empty chest, hmmm maybe, just maybe he thought to himself.

Brother Ron stayed outside the room while Brother Nathan entered. Some chairs, a television and what was that? A big old closed chest large enough to fit a man. Surely not? Only one way to find out. Brother Nathan approached the chest revving his drill and hoping...

...Mitch heard the whirrrrrring and he knew it wasn't good. The first thing he saw was daylight through a tiny hole courtesy of the drill right above his eye, then another hole and another and another, then pain as...

...Brother Nathan continued to plunge the drill into the chest, thrusting long after the red stuff started to come out. Mitch bit his lip each time the drill touched his face, his nose felt like a flute. He heard Brother Nathan call out to Brother Ron. Something about a drill chuck and a saw bit. Some clicking and clacking and then a buzz.
"Keep holding in there Mitch, you¡¯re going to feel a little saw." The saw instantly slew in beside the Mitch's right ear, he watched it rove up beyond the top of his head then across and down the left hand side. Then it turned and started to work it's way over his neck.

"Alright, alright I give up," a muffled cry came from within. Brother Nathan stopped and withdrew the drill. Aiming carefully he smashed his palm onto the sawn square imploding it. Mitch's smiling face appeared on the other side, it looked as though he¡¯d contracted 3 quarter inch measles. His closed hand emerged from inside and gave a tiny wave, it was concealing something.
"I've got a pen" he announced cheerfully and shoved it in Brother Nathans throat.
Mitch withdrew the pen leaving a deep circular well and Brother Nathan fell back off the chest. He seized the opportunity to escape. Stealing a quick look at the holy man spilled out on the floor Mitch snuck away to where...

...Brother Ron stood nonchalantly staring out into the hallway. The first sign he knew that he was being attacked was the pen being inserted in his ear. No, inserted probably wasn't the correct word, rammed he'd say. He reflected on this as he crashed into the wall beside him. Better make an appointment with the drycleaners he thought as stuff began to eke out onto his suit.

Brother Nathan rose from the ground and adjusted himself, straighted his tie and leveled his sunglasses. He felt the sharp pain in his neck and put his hand over the hole, there was a certain wetness. He looked at his hand, the wetness was blood, he put his hand to his mouth and tasted it.
"Salty," he muttered and started towards the door looking left...

...and right, Mitch wondered where to go. These men had drills and a simple pen bludgeon wouldn't keep them, he needed more weapons and fast. Already he could hear noises behind him, ill tempered, perturbed noises that didn't sound friendly. Still, there was no way a bunch of Jesus lovers were going to take him down in his own house at least over his dead body. Weapons, knives, electrical mayhem, Mitch grinned and started towards the...

" is where he'll be going," Brother Nathan guessed. "He knows we'll be feeling a little upset at the way things have progressed so he'll be wanting to arm himself further."
"I'm feeling a little acrimonious," Brother Ron staggered, trying to weather his temper.
"Well put. You go into the kitchen and take Mitch front on, I'll try to blindside him from another point of entry." Brother Ron responded with a short nod but stopped when he realized Brother Nathan looking at him oddly.
"You do realize you have a pen embeddered in your ear don't you Brother Ron?"
"Yes Brother Nathan I do. I thought by not removing it, it may prevent fluid and parts of my brain from leaking out."
"Very good then. As you were." Brother Nathan looked at him stride off. He was a dear sweet man but lord if he didn't have some issues.
Look at that, a staircase.

As well as being hopeless in the marriage department Mitch's seventh wife had also been an avid chef. The various everyday objects used to make casseroles and birthday cakes could easily be turned into implements of war. His hand felt each object in turn. Steel frying pan yes, plastic soup ladle no, gutting blade yes, bag of cotton wool no. His hand touched on the jagged meat cleaver.

The door wasn't locked but Brother Ron felt the need to enter by way of the wall, the surprise factor. His foot sailed through it's thin wooden jib board panel with ease. That's when he got stuck. The wood had split so easily that it had only made a hole where his foot had kicked. It's easy to put something through something but as he struggled to pull his leg back out something...

...sunk into it. Mitch ignored Brother Ron's paroxysms and looked at the leg flop about like a Riverdancer. He took the cleaver out and whacked it in again and then took it back out again. He paused to wipe some more blood off his face, whew, it was like he was sweating it. Making it up as he went along he untied Brother Ron's shoe and gently took his sock off. Mitch ran a finger up the pale whiteness of the foot.
"That's a nice foot you have there."
"Cinderellic I'd say," came the suppressed strained reply.
Mmmmm. One of Mitch's hands caressed Brother Ron's big toe, the other reached for the electric knife.
"This little piggy went to market."

Brother Nathan stood at the top of the staircase with a bunch of screws in his hand. He had taken them out of the supports as he had climbed, a little surprise for Mitch. Eighteen screws in all, Brother Nathan had counted each. He knew that useful little screws made useful little weapons. He heard a scream ring out from downstairs and made his way round the second floor to where he thought the kitchen lay below and more precisely the spot where Mitch was carving, unsuspecting, underneath.

The thing that Brother Ron was most care-worn over wasn't that his leg was stuck in another room or that he was rapidly losing a lot of blood it was that he couldn't see what he was being prepared for. Terror was a main factor, he knew whatever it was it wouldn't be to his favour but never-the-less he was curious and the odd rhyme Mitch was singing on the other side was unsettling. He was torn between breaking his way through and offering another limb for Mitch to sever. His little toe was being waggled.
"and this little piggy cried." Buzz, zulp..., zulp, buzz, zulp. Mitch confiscated Brother Nathan's three smallest toes, he would have done them all but the damn power cord didn't reach far enough, of all the rotten luck. He tried two more times to yank the electric knife closer but in the end he got nowhere and decided on another scheme.
"Excuse me," he rapped loudly on the wall. "I'd like it if you could move your foot to the left please?"
Mitch heard shuffling on the other side.
"No no, not that foot, the one I'm currently mutilating."
The one in front of him moved.
"No not your left, my left, bloody stage left towards the electrical point." God, this man was infuriating to work with. If he had taken a little time to collect himself he would have...

...noticed the saw slicing throught the ceiling above him and in no time at all a square had appeared. It was not unlike the same square that had appeared in the chest and a hand smashed into it, imploding it, grabbing Mitch's attention which meant...

...Brother Ron suddenly felt the fingers leave his foot, odd he thought, he was sure the expiry date was due. Utilizing the reprieve he took some blood from his ear and lubricated the area of his leg stuck fast in the broken wall. Finally using the door frame beside him as a brace to work against he plucked his leg from the hole and looked down to observe the damage. It seemed toenail cutting would be less time consuming.

As Mitch looked up he saw the smiling face of Brother
Nathan appear above him like a nightmare. He dropped the electric knife and that's when his eyes started to sting and Brother Nathan began to preach to him.

...sorry, I'm truly, truly sorry." Brother Nathan had already changed his drill bit to screwdriver and had used it to unscrew the bottom of the zippo lighter. Now as he splashed lighter fluid all over Mitchs face below, dousing him good and proper, he continued his strange sermon.
"Those are the words that should be coming out your mouth for only then can you listen and accept the great change we brought to you," Once empty he threw the zippo into the kitchen.
"You have to learn that there are consequences for your actions Mitch." With his left hand he pulled out a packet of matches and flicked one against the flint. Its small flame flickered in anticipation, it wanted to spread.
"You've got one more chance Mitch, one more chance to sit down and let us try to convert you."
"Never!" Mitch cried defiantly.
Brother Nathan shook his head solemnly, "well let me introduce you to hell then." He tossed the match and Mitch...

...started to scream as though he¡¯d just won the lottery. He hands reached into the air and the flames engulfed him.
"Stop, drop and roll Mitch. Don't you know the song?" The salesman pitched urgently so Mitch did just that. But as he stopped screaming like a child with A.D.D. and went into the dropping stage he noticed the salesman drop some things down onto the floor. As he started to roll, the pain became unbearable.
"Dammit," he yelled, "who the hell left these screws out?"

Brother Nathan found Brother Ron cursing in the bathroom. He lowered himself through a new hole and slid down beside him. Brother Ron was bathing his bloodied foot in a sink full of water.
"Look at them," he said in an exasperated cry of disbelief, "or more precisely lack of them." Brother Nathan looked and tried to think of something soothing to say.
"At least you didn't try to headbutt your way through the wall."
"Fifty bucks on a petticure wasted!" Brother Ron felt very sorry for himself and apparently unaware that the nerve endings in his leg had been severed and it was now starting to twitch spastically.
Behind them the fire had completely lost its temper and a door in the hallway exploded.
"Come Brother Ron, let's get out of here before we both incinerate in a charred pile of meaty flakes," he said gently as he helped Brother Ron up and they turned towards the bathrooms exit.
"Leaving so soon gentlemen?"...

..Mitch stood in the doorway blocking the salesmen, his smoldering cadaver approached the two men like the spawn of a leper and a zombie.
"You guys seem to have forgotten your drill," his blackened face grinned hideously, a screw had pierced into one of the holes in his face. He raised Brother Nathan¡¯s drill from behind his back.
"Can't have you leaving without your drill, nosiree, not without your drill."
Now it was Brother Nathan¡¯s turn to smile, blood bubbles tried to blow out from his throat as he spoke.
"Give it up Mitch, we both know why I left the drill behind." He didn't like the way Mitch was still advancing slowly as if he had taken that fact into consideration, flames pitter-patted behind him.
Mitch burned his way to within a metre of the salesmen. Brother Nathan released Brother Ron and stood obstinately in direct conflict to Mitch.
"The battery is low Mitch, the drill is running slow, it's over." The bit end of Mitch's drill oscillated slowly like a fat ballerina. Brother Nathan reached out and took Brother Ron¡¯s drill from him.
"You think you can take me Mitch?" he said one way, "run Brother Ron, run!" he said another. "Save yourself!"
Brother Ron heaved himself out the door his blood trail following him like a red bulimic shadow. The door slammed behind him. And then it was just Brother Nathan and Mitch, in the bathroom with their drills pointed at each other. They began to circle each other, their eyes locked.

Brother Ron quashed ideas of escape, not when Brother Nathan was still in the room with the sadist who had partially slothed him. Smoke was billowing out from the kitchen growing and producing flaming amoebae, burning and dividing, burning and dividing. They marched toward him growing in power. There would be no chance of escape. A scream belted out from the wall and Brother Ron knew that Brother Nathan was in trouble. Perhaps he thought, that he could surprise Mitch by smashing through the bathrooms roof from the story above. Yes, that was the only way. Maybe if Brother Ron was able to think clearly he would have called the fire department or escape by breaking a window but he had a pen clicked into his brain and the pen was beginning to melt with the heat causing the ink to flow. He looked for a way to go up...

...just like in the movies, both men were oblivious to any mortal danger outside the bathroom door, they continued their sideways circling jabbing drills at each other like retarded boxers. Brother Nathan switched his drill to his other hand and then he tossed it back again giving it a short whirrr each time.
"You know Mitch, we're not so different you and I." Mitch ran his tongue against the blood on the drill's bit, salty he thought.
"How'd you figure?"
"Because we both play the game of 'Who wants to kill each other?" Unlike the movies there was no tricks or special effects, Brother Nathan simply bridged the gap between them in one motion. As Mitch struggled to raise his own drill in self defense he felt another one near his temple.
"How do you want it Mitch, slow and painful? Or long, laggard and lacerating?¡±
"Slow and painful please," was the surprising response Brother Nathan was given and he frowned, it shouldn't have been that easy. One of his hands held Mitch's shirt to stop him escaping. and the other pressed the drill into Mitch's head. As he pressed the trigger the electricity zapped into him. His skeleton lit up like a cartoon. Brother Nathan saw where Mitch had put his drill, it was in the sink, purring softly in the bloodied water.
Mitch smiled as he saw the smoke emerge from Brother Nathan's head, Boy, he sure was pleased he had worn his rubber soled shoes today. Shocking.

With the fire feasting around him Brother Ron found himself in the rather odd position of being impaled on one of the banisters. Some bastard had taken all the screws out of the staircase. He tried to twist himself around but if anything managed to skew his guts further onto the banister. The glugging noise they were making involuntarily didn't ease his agony in fact he debated quietly the glugging was extremely hmmmm, off-putting. Sure he could pull himself off the piece of wood that was thrust in and out of him, but that, like the pen in his ear would just leave holes for more stuff to come out. No he had to find some way to break the spike off at the bottom so it wouldn't unplug him. Smiling absurdly he reached down to his ankle strap and unbuttoned his spare drill, a very small drill that he only used for emergencies. He had borrowed the idea from the Cat in the Hat. As little drill 'Z' went to work the smoke wrapped him like a phantom towel and his naked leg began to singe and as he slowly uprighted himself...

...Brother Nathan uprighted himself. The first thing he saw was a face not unlike his own staring back at him from a mirror. The face in the mirror was black and his hair jagged off like an upside down spider. Mitch was nowhere to be seen but of course the smoke from the fire was making everything hard to see. Brother Nathan pinballed his way to the bathrooms door where he collided with Brother Ron. Brother Ron had a large wooden spike pertruding from his abdomen but Brother Nathan thought it best not to ask. Brother Ron noticed the dry bits of skin fleck from Brother Nathan's face, some of it was still sizzling but he thought it best not to ask.
"He didn't commute this way Brother Nathan, I would have surely seen him." The wooden spike moved in and out as he spoke.
"Then he must have continued down the hallway," Brother Nathan pointed to the only door at the end.
"It makes sense, it's lined with bricks. I'd say it's the garage¡±
"And I'd say it's the carport" Brother Ron added routinely. They nodded to each other and set forth, ready for...

...the final assault," Mitch muttered to himself. The garage felt cold unlike the inferno next door. He was pleased to see that the lights still worked, it would mean he would see them when they entered. This is what it came down to. Mitch prepared himself to defend his castle not once pausing to think that perhaps the castle may not be there to defend in a few moments. He sat in the corner waiting, he heard noises and began to giggle.

They burst through the door to see Mitch sitting in a corner. He had found himself a nail gun.
"Say your prayers Gentlemen."
"Ahhhhhhhhhh, you shot me in the eye you son of a bitch." The nail cracked through the black lens and blood and mucus began to seep from under the left side of Brother Nathan's sunglasses.
Tha, tha, tha.
"Ow, ow, ow! He got me in the head too Brother Nathan." Brother Ron cried.
"I don't care, just get him and restrain him!"
Mitch kept firing indiscriminately, at point blank range at both gentlemen.
"Why don't you both just die?!" Cried Mitch in disbelief. They both looked like maimed Terminators, the old original ones made out of good believable car parts. Stumbling toward him they each struggled to complete their mission.
Tha, tha, click.
"Ah, ah, huh?" Brother Ron, the last two had hit him in the knee. The joke was on Mitch, when he had embedded the cleaver in his leg Mitch had severed not only the nerves but also any feeling. His hand reached out and pushed Mitch's head into the garage wall. Brother Nathan also arrived, he stopped to pull the nail out of his eye.
"I don't know about you Brother Ron but I'm feeling a little irritated.¡±
"Extremely upset I'd say," Brother Ron agreed spitting out a broken tooth.
"We have to make sure that he doesn't escape again Brother Ron." Brother Ron nodded and smiled. As the muscles clenched in his face the pen sprung out like a dart followed by some stuff.
"How are we going to do that Brother Nathan?¡± Obviously the 'stuff' had been something to do with Brother 'Ron's IQ Brother Nathan put his hand in his pocket and produced another two screws.

The letter 'T', it's a good letter, nice and straight with none of those sissy curves. It's a mans letter, it starts man words like 'Tom' and 'Tools'. Tall, tough, trailer, they're all mans words not like the letter 'u' which begins sissy words like 'umbrella,' 'uterus' and 'under' and of course the dishonest K which just passes itself of as a gentle 'c'. Lets not get started on the letter 'q'. The reason I bring this to your attention is simply to divert you from the sound of the drilling and the screaming and the yelling and the smoke knocking on the garage door trying to gatecrash.
The Letter 'T', it's also what Mitch looked like when the crucifixion stopped.

"Now Mitch, you're going to sit still, you're going to shut the hell up and you're going to listen to what Brother Ron and I are going to tell you." He breathing slowed as he started to catch it. Brother Nathan took time to straighten his tie and continued speaking straight into Mitch¡¯s face. His hand grabbed Mitch¡¯s collar and pulled him close.
"Now as we were saying my brother Ron and I would like to take a couple of minutes of your time to talk about a few things that may help change your life and others around you. My Brother Ron and I have been converted..."
"Okay, okay, I'll believe anything you say, I'll believe in anything you want, I'll go to church, I'll say my prayers, I'll even stop spitting on old people, just please let me go."
"What in God's name is he blabbering on about Brother Nathan?" Brother Ron asked facing his brother.
"I don't know Brother Ron. Hey Mitch, what in Gods name are you blabbering on about?"
"What the hell am I talking about?! You guys break into my house, light it on fire, destroy the staircase, put holes in the walls and ceiling, smash up heirlooms and all because I don¡¯t want to have any thing to do with God or religion."
"God? Who the fuck said anything about God?" Brother Nathan questioned with a puzzled expression. "And speaking for myself I've got absolutely no time for religion. What about you Brother Ron?"
"Fairy shit," Brother Ron agreed.
Now it was Mitch's turn to look confused.
"What about all that stuff you said 'bout reckoning day and you guys being converted an¡¯ all?"
"Ohhhhhh." Brother Nathan relaxed his grip on Mitch¡¯s collar and gave the hint of a toothless bloodied smile. "Well, you don't need to be a genius to work out what we¡¯ve done to your house, I'd say we've pretty much wrecked it today wouldn't you Brother Ron?"
"Wreaked it I'd say, haha haha." His face was a mess as the brains continued to flow out.
"And about you guys bein' converted?"
"Well, we are and we have." Brother Nathan said a little defensively. his voice deflated somewhat and the well practiced pitch of his sale had almost vanished.
"Converted to the new Safe and Sound X-treme Wrecking Drill."

I may be stupid but at least I'm not handsome.

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The following comments are for "A Different Approach"
by Emlyn

You know, I really liked this story, despite the amount of cleanup it needs. I had a feeling the Brothers weren't what they said they were, but the end was a surprise, and one that made sense. Although I was earlier tempted to say take out some of the violence scenes to tighten the story up, I've changed my mind, because the story doesn't lag. I ended up wanting to know what they would come up with next. Also, the phrase, "Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'" came to mind. ;)

You need to insert a lot of commas and semicolons to break up these sentences. Also, when characters are thinking, their thoughts need to be marked with these: '. I don't think the ellipses are necessary, either. You seemed to go back and forth on using them. I'd drop them altogether. Lastly, putting spaces between paragraphs would make this easier to read.

This was a fun one. Thanks.

( Posted by: Elphaba [Member] On: March 24, 2004 )

Thanks Elphaba. It's always nice to have someone not only comment on your but also to suggest improvements.I totally agree with the punctuation, I think I suffer from that terrible 'just finished and show the world syndrome'. I'm also on most accounts, a very lazy young man who doesn't like to dirty his hands by cleaning up his writing. That being said, like a lot of amateur writers, I don't know how. Certainly your suggestions on punctuation are a great help.
Finally, I was trying A Different Approach (puts closed fist to mouth and clears throat) with the eclipses, they seemed like a fun thing to do but not altogether needed. I think this story would make a good childrens cartoon.
Thanks again.

( Posted by: Emlyn [Member] On: March 25, 2004 )

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