*
So there was Magnusson, the long-faced proprietor of Bear State Videoramics, with his wife and teenage son, standing in the gravel parking lot and asking for food and a place to stay.
God is good, Frankland thought. He frowned at the Reverend Garb, who frowned back.
“I don’t know,” Frankland said. “Are you planning on distributing any pornography while you’re here?”
Magnusson’s face reddened. “You know I ain’t,” he said. “The store’s wrecked, just like everything else.”
“The thing is,” Frankland said, “as long as your pornographic videos exist, I figure they’re a danger to the community.”
“Listen,” Magnusson said. “The store is gone. Our home is a pile of bricks and lumber. We don’t got any food. They told us in town that if we came up here, you’d feed us.”
Garb nodded. “We do what we can for the community. But you see, it’s our food—”
“We aren’t the government,” Frankland said. “We don’t have to feed anybody. We’re just a service to the community.”
“And our duty is to the community, not to individual people,” smiled Garb.
“So if someone is a threat to our community,” Frankland said, “it’s our duty to protect the community from that person.”
“God judgeth the righteous,” Garb said, “and God is angry with the wicked every day.”
Magnusson’s face had turned as red as his hair. “It isn’t even your food!” he said. “I watched your people take it from the Piggly Wiggly. That’s stealing!”
“That’s initiative,” Frankland said. “I haven’t heard any complaints from the store management.”
“They’re dead.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Listen,” Magnusson said. “You won. Understand? I don’t have anything anymore. All I want is some food for my wife and my boy.”
Frankland stroked his chin and smiled. “We’ll do that. But there’s something I want you to do for us. I want you to take your truck back to town, and gather up every single one of those porn videos, and bring them back here. And then we’ll light a nice bonfire, and burn every video, and you can apologize to the community for bringing that filth into our midst.”
“And then,” Garb added, nodding, “because you are no longer a threat to us, we will accept you into our community, and give you food and shelter.”
Magnusson had gone pale. His jaw worked. His blue eyes glowed. “This is the most outrageous thing I’ve ever heard. You can’t make those kind of conditions. This is America, damn it!”
Frankland nodded. “That’s true. This is a free country. You have a free choice—to stay, or go.”
“Leaving means starvation for my family!”
“Staying,” Frankland said, “means repentance.”
“Look up,” said Garb, “and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh.”
Magnusson glared from Frankland to Garb and back again. Then he hesitated. He glanced at his wife and son. He licked his lips.
Frankland smiled. He knew he had won.
The world had become a better place.