My Job Is To Bring Peace  A pay phone is ringing. I walk over and answer it. It's my dad. He says, "Hello Kenneth Marshall..." He has called to tell me his life story, essentially. There is a battle going on between archery and firearm people. I wear a blaze-orange coat. A voice tells me that I have to find the middle ground between the groups. I say I sure do like snakes, not elk. Something happens with a mirror and a booger. Something may also happen with shit, which may be a figure of speech. I am an archer. I look for gloves. My job is to bring peace between the two groups. It's cold and snowy.