Our doormat says, “welcome.” It says so in big black letters. They stick out of the black rubber like little pins. We are very proud of our mat. It has been in the family as far back as anyone can remember.
When he knocked on the door we invited him in. As he entered the room he stepped on the doormat. The one that is almost a family heirloom. Everyone agreed, it is one old doormat.
We all greeted him with friendly smiles and shared small talk. Everyone was warm and sociable. Everyone except the doormat.
Drinks were served and we primed him with tasteless sandwiches. We kept the better cuts of meat and condiments in a special place.
After a while his eyes grew dark and his ears grew points. We had no choice. We locked him in the spare room and unscrewed the light bulb.
We could hear him stumbling around. He broke furniture and windows.
We got out the shotgun and blew his fucking head off.
The rest was a matter of protocol.
We got out the hunting knives and dismembered his torso.
His body parts were scattered in the woods to feed the small creatures. Winter is harsh in these parts. Local folk do all they can for the animals.
We were glad we showed him traditional hospitality. We did the right thing.
Our doormat says, “welcome.”