The Door Knocker Saga- Experiments with Missionaries.

I’m eating my Frosted Krispies, and Vic says he sees two well-dressed ladies walking up our street.  “They’re door-knockers”, says I.  Vic says he thinks they’re wearing too brightly colored clothes to be door-knockers, but I think he’s confusing the door-knockers with the Amish or some shit.  We get out the binoculars we use to spy on our neighbors and Vic confirms that they are indeed knocking on doors.

“Get the atheist bag” I tell Vic.  We pull out our best atheist propaganda.  I am actually excited, and in my awesome rock star black and silver leopard jammies, I start dancing in our living room.  “I hope they stop here, I hope they stop.  PLEASE knock on our door.”

Here they come, walking up the driveway!  Yes!  I open the door.  (Remember, I’m wearing my rock star jammies, my tattoos are hanging out, my mascara is smeared, my hair is all over the place.  Generally, I look awesome.)

“Hello!”

“Hello!  I am here today to talk to you about the world, do you think it’s going to get better?”

“Well, how do you mean?”

“Most people in this area were raised Christian, were you?  I’m assuming you were.”

“Actually, no, I wasn’t…”  (This is the truth.)  Pause…

“So, do you know the Lord’s Prayer?”

Here, I decide to lie.  I know the Lord’s Prayer.  Not because I’m religious, but because I have this damn good memory, and I used to take people with disabilities to church when I worked on Sundays if they chose to go…

“Um… No, can’t say that I do.”

Her spiel is ruined.  She doesn’t really know what to say.  She even says to me “Well, I guess I can’t ask you THOSE questions, then…”

I reach out my hand, which has the atheist propaganda in it.  On top is the Freedom From Religion non-tract called “Why Jesus?”  Her eyes light up:  “Oh, you DO believe in Jesus!!!”  I look at her face and really slowly and drawn out I say “Nooooo”.

She stares at the propaganda but won’t even touch it.  She says she’s done a lot of research, but if that stuff says there is no Jesus, then she can’t take it to read it.  She asks me to just tell her what’s in there.  We tell her she can read it herself.

Then Vic ruins my fun by getting curt and telling them to get away from our house and keep their silly superstitions to themselves.  Dude, I could’ve done this all day.  Wonder if they’ll ever come back?

Go lord it up in someone else's lawn, freak!