Journalistic Intentions Encore

#proudboys

         With a force that rattled the walls, the heavy front door slammed.

         "Did you see it, Millie?" hollered a voice that could only be described as nails on a chalkboard.

         Millicent sighed and counted to ten.

         "Indoor voice, please Merrilee. Mumsy so abhorred shouting. Can't you at least enter the room before you begin a conversation?"

         Muffled thumps indicated her twin sister had kicked her shoes off and the closet door squeaked in protest.Thank the Lord for small mercies. Could her sibling actually be hanging up her jacket?The unmistakable crinkling of paper heralded Merrilee's approach. Well, that and the cloying cloud of her scent du jour. It may well be French, but it still reminded Millicent of funeral arrangements.

         "Ah, there you are," Merrilee cooed depositing several shopping bags onto the matching armchair next to her sibling.

         "At the risk of repeating myself I asked if you had seen it."

         Millicent had the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes. At their age much of what they said somehow morphed into repetition.

         "Pray tell, what is this it you mention?"

         "You mean you haven't noticed it? I'm talking about the poster right outside on the lamp post. It has to be new. I've never see it before."

         Suppressing the groan that begged to pass her grimacing lips, Millicent rose to her feet and wobbled to the picture window. Peering out ,she spied a piece of paper fluttering just where Merrilee had claimed it would be. Wonderful. Something else to be blown about the neighbourhood.

         "I just glanced at it, but it's gibberish. Who would go to the trouble of making a poster about fasciitis mutants ? What does that even mean?"

         "I'm quite certain I haven't a clue sister dear. Did you forget to wear your eyeglasses? Now, where are my binoculars?"

         After a bit of a scrabble through the nearby desk drawer, Millicent raised her Neighbourhood Watch-issued spywear to her eyes and zeroed in on the pamphlet that had piqued Merrilee's interest. It must be intriguing. Usually Merry paused only to skim a product label.

         As her eyes strained to focus Millicent read two words set apart by their dark printing, Fascist Militants. Above them in dramatic red proud boys dominated the page. Mulling the implications, she only registered a babbling from her twin.

         "Hey, don't you have something called fasciitis? Why would anybody print that and put it in front of your house? And what's with mutants? Is that a dig at your weird feet? I always warned you they weren't normal."

         "Merry, dear. Could you please nip outside and tear that poster down? Whatever it is can only be garbage. Who wants that in their backyard? With the anti-mess extremists we have around here we might as well get ahead of the clean-up."

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