Exorcising visiting missionaries

One quirk of our share house was the front door being at the back of the house. The hill the house sat on rose one full storey from the front to back and at the front were the garage doors. The front door faced a little patio which also bordered Reg’s bedroom window.

It was mid-morning after a big night. I was slouched on the lounge wearing a towel while the other half was wearing a very short shave coat. It was wrapped around her and tied at the waist. Reg and partner were still abed.

A firm knock came at the door. We looked at each other and I said I couldn’t go. What if the towel fell off? She reluctantly rose and went to the door and opened it. Facing her were a pair of young male Mormon missionaries. She rested back against the door jamb which accentuated the decolletage of the shave coat. Their discomfort at the display amused her enough to keep the conversation continuing for a while.

The discussion must have woken Reg and his other half. It seems they decided to add some colour to the discussion. As the boys talked a steady chorus of grunts from Reg and little girly cries gradually rose in volume through the bedroom window.

As the noise rose to a crescendo the colour of the boys faces became redder and redder. They were exchanging glances and shortly after they broke and ran down the side of the house and out onto the street.

Strangely, for the rest of our time in the house, we were never again disturbed by any missionaries. We never asked Reg if the noises were concocted or real.