Getting My Foot Caught In My Mouth, As Usual
Jehovah Witnesses keep knocking on my door to hand me the latest copies of The Watchtower.
You know why?
Because I’m too freaking nice to tell them to go away. Too nice to say: No, I will never believe in your wacky religion. I have my own share of crazy Catholic beliefs to stress me out and give me sexual complexes, thankyouverymuch.
They’re always so nice.
“Good morning, Miss, could I just drop this off for you to read? We are spreading the Word of God today.”
It’s a handsome black guy. I’m a sucker for hot black guys.
No thank you sir, I’m not interested. Please just march your ass back down my walkway and get the fuck off my property. If you come back, I’ll shoot you in the butt with a tomato fired by slingshot.
“Um, sure, thank you.”
A smile, “Would it be okay if I stopped by sometime next week to talk to you about what you’ll be reading in that?”
Crickets chirp.
No fucking way, like I said a second ago, GET THE HELL OFF MY PROPERTY BEFORE I’M FORCED TO SHOVE A BIBLE-FORBIDDEN DILDO UP YOUR ASS!
“Um, uh… well… er, uh, yeah, uh, sure, I guess.”
Dammit. Can’t I just type out the answer instead? Why do they have to catch me in person like that? Why am I so nice in person? Can’t I just be the bitch in real life that I am on paper and by way of the internet?
Being shy sucks.
It’s not fair.
Current Mood:
Confused
Tags: Religion