Ten Minute Flash Fiction Experiment: Door to Door

Here's a little flash fiction experiment of mine, inspired by a recent encounter with a door-to-door salesman that left me scratching my head.  I was going to mention it in a quick tweet ( @michaeldmatula ), but I decided to give myself ten minutes to write it out as a mini story instead. 

Hope you enjoy it.

A pair of crisp knocks. Low voices outside my window, carrying on a conversation. Not wanting to be bothered, I wait ten seconds, expecting them to go away on their own.  I hear the voices again. I stop writing, toss on a more presentable shirt and go answer the door. Two men are standing on the porch. Squarish types. One's middle-aged. They're both wearing button-up shirts. Ties.

I leave the screen door shut. No point getting too chummy.

A pamphlet is shoved towards the screen. The man on the left says some words I don't bother to commit to memory. I'm already preparing to say, “No thanks.”

The other man then utters a phrase that manages to stick to my brain like newsprint on Silly Putty. “We're going door to door, asking people, 'How long would you like to live?'”

I'm speechless for a moment. It sounds more like a threat than a conversation starter. “No thanks,” I end up saying, my powers of speech returning. “I'm not interested.”

I let the door close.

I wonder what the hell that was all about.