Ruffled feathers

A customer creeped me out really bad. She had big, dull gray blue eyes and a small sharp face that was coated with a thin film of blonde hair. I was serving her at the last checkout counter when I asked if she had found everything she needed. Her reply started off meek, "Well, yes, I guess so. I would have stayed longer but I just don't like the music you play here. Do you like it?" 

I was a bit taken aback but, nevertheless, I attempted to conjure up a friendly conversation. "Well, sometimes I don't but, for the most part, I enjoy a wide range of music. What kind of music do you like?"

Her voice shifted forcefully as she hissed a wide-eyed reply, "I prefer music that sounds heavenly. I only like music if it sounds like what God would have wanted heaven to sound like. You know that Lucifer tries to get to people through any means? You see, there is evil everywhere and that's why the world is going to end soon. There's going to be a huge war and the governments are going to make everybody go to church. And you see, the Catholic church is starting to make a come back and that's baaaaad news. Here, let me give you this, I'd like you to read it." She slides a pamphlet onto the counter as her rambling takes a strained pause. 

I look up at the deranged spark in her eyes and try my hardest not to recoil and tell her to go fuck herself.

"No, No. I'd rather you keep that. Do you want your receipt?" I struggled to maintain a calm, polite composure. It wasn't until later that I realized that I should have told her I was a Scientologist lesbian who enjoys making porridge out of baby eyeballs on Sundays. But on second thought, she might have attempted an exorcism.