“Prove it.” Jessie demanded before the door was all the way open.
The Last Prophet raised an eyebrow to her. “Aren’t you supposed to say trick or treat?”
“Trick or treat. Now prove all that stuff you were saying. And candy if you don’t mind.”
“Are you holding my cookies hostage? They must be here by now.” The Last Prophet asked.
“Maybe, are you holding my candy hostage?” she accused. She stood in the door, wrapped head to toe in toilet paper carrying a pillow case stuffed full of candy.
“Maybe. Okay, if I prove it, will you go get me my cookies?”
“Alright then. Come in.” He said. Jessie didn’t move from the doorway.
“My mom has always told me never to go in a stranger’s home.”
“Your mother continues to impress me. Fair enough then, I’ll have to make do from here.” He leaned against the doorframe and started digging around in his head.
“Do you know John the Baptist?”
Jessie shook her head. A piece of toilet paper flaked off onto the porch.
“Well, John was the last prophet as far as anyone else knows. Do you know how long ago that was?”
Jessie shrugged. “A long time?”
“Correct! A very, very long time. Now, before John, there were many prophets. But, since him, there hasn’t been a single one. Except me of course. Any idea why that would be?”
Jessie shook her head.
“Well, have you ever read a book and suddenly decided to skip chapter fourteen?”
Jessie shook her head again. “Why fourteen?”
The Last Prophet smiled. “Arbitrary number. So-“
“What does arbitrary mean?” Jessie interrupted.
“It means pointless. Like this conversation if you don’t let me finish.”
Jessie glared at him but, sealed her lips.
“So, you wouldn’t just up and skip a chapter and, if you suddenly decided to, chapter fifteen wouldn’t be making a whole lot of sense would it?”
“I guess not.”
“I’m chapter fourteen.”
“I thought you said fourteen was pointless!” Jessie said, pointing an “aha!” finger right at his nose.
“It is, it’s a metaphor.”
“What is a metaphor?” Jessie asked.
“Well, I guess when you figure that out you’ll have your proof, won’t you? Now, can I have my cookies?”
Jessie didn’t like being beat but had too much to think about to put up a fight.
“I will bring them tomorrow. Now, trick or treat.” She held open the bag.
The Last Prophet laughed. “Sorry, I do not have any candy.”
Jessie closed the pillow case and glowered at him. “I’m going to ask my Mom what a metaphor is. If it isn’t proof, I’m eating all your cookies.”
The Last Prophet gave her a thumb up. Jessie turned and walked off the porch, her face scrambled and crunched under the weight of her thoughts.