Cowboy Jack, a long-haired, brown-bearded, Jesus-looking, chain-smoking, psychopathic-killer, rolled into town on his Harley about three weeks ago, but he had yet to baptize anyone into the kingdom. That was about to change.

He stalked alleyways. Hid in crawl spaces. Monitored conversations. Witnessed crimes against humanity.

All without anyone taking notice.

“Oh, my God!” the adulterous pastor screamed. “Jesus, somebody help me!”

“Wha’cha prayin’ to Jesus for?” Cowboy Jack’s face twisted in sadistic delight. “He won’t help you now. Not after all you done.”

The blade of Jack’s knife caused a tinge of blood to drop from the neck of his prey. Jack laughed in the night.

“You get one chance at this, you God-denying swine. You’ll either repent and be baptized or you’ll be blood-baptized. What’s it gonna be?”

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about. P-please don’t hurt me.”

“Okay, have it your way.” Jack sliced his throat, baptizing the man in cold-blood. “Kingdom ‘ll come one way or another, I reckon.”