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Door-to-Door by Joli Huelskamp

I open the door to a smiling girl, sixteenish, summer-camp-counselor wholesome, carrying a clipboard and a huge umbrella. She hands me a glossy brochure. “Libby Conrad for Commissioner”. Red, white, and blue. A photo of the candidate posed in the midst of her sunny family…

Door-to-Door | Joli Huelskamp

I open the door to a smiling girl, sixteenish, summer-camp-counselor wholesome, carrying a clipboard and a huge umbrella. She hands me a glossy brochure. “Libby Conrad for Commissioner”. Red, white, and blue. A photo of the candidate posed in the midst of her sunny family. 

“Libby Conrad has deep roots here,” says the girl. “She’s owned the Front Street Pharmacy for twelve years and is very active in the community. She’s dedicated and hardworking.”

The girl can’t explain exactly what a county commissioner does. She can’t name her candidate’s opponent or even the election date. She refers me to the website listed on the glossy brochure. I wonder about Libby Conrad’s organizational skills, deploying her canvassers without this basic knowledge.

Still, I have to admire this girl for being out on a miserable, rainy night. Surely she’d rather be inside, hanging with her friends. And she’s cheerful, poised, enthusiastic. Did I ever have that perky attitude, that sense of civic duty?

“Would you like a sign for your yard?” she asks as she’s leaving.

The people across the street have placards up year-round, more than enough political signage for the entire neighborhood. I decline politely.

I finish up the dinner dishes. Carrying out the trash, I hear shrill voices across the street and know instantly. What a treat to have the enemy delivered right to your door. I should have warned the girl.

Brainless bitch! Spreading venom you don’t even understand! Stupid little hypocrite!

You can’t think for yourself, you spineless sheep! Baa! Baa! Baa!

Worthless, toxic scum! Go back to the hole you crawled out of!

The girl sobs, walks back down their driveway, her hand up as if to protect herself. At the street, she tries to remember which way to go. The rain keeps pouring as she, someone’s daughter, stumbles down the sidewalk, crying, struggling with her umbrella, the glossy leaflets falling off her clipboard into the muddy gutter.

A watercolor illustration of a bee on a black circular background.
About the Author:

Joli Huelskamp lives in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Bewildering Stories, The Bluebird Word, Brilliant Flash Fiction, ONE ART, and Kings River Life.




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