Can I Get a Witness

Knock knock- Saturday morning, 10 a.m.

Picture me, 6’1” red polk-a-dot boxers, beerland tee-shirt, hair sticking up in that special pre-coffee way that it does, answering the door. On the other side is a well dressed hispanic gentlemen (with really creepy dental work) in suit with an assistant behind him who i can’t quite seem to focus on.

Keep in mind here that the only person who ever knocks on our door, especially at this hour is either the dog, or someone escorting the dog to her proper place in the world ( on the couch watching soap operas, eating ice cream). So right away I’m skeptical of these folks, who got up so early and took the time to dress up to come and visit us without canine-base motivation.

“Uh, yeah ?” I say.

“Hello young man, are your parents at home ? “ says the dapper dude.

This gives me pause. There’s a lot I could work with here, but the fact that I haven’t been asked this question in about ten years throws me for a loop.

“Actually, We own the place…” I say.

“Ah well, congratulations on your youthful appearance.”


“I was wondering If I could talk to you about the role of religion in your life….”

(Oh crap, Goose punch us out, I can’t reach the handle…)
“Ah, no thank you.” I say and shut the door.

I can’t believe I let them off this easy…no comments like – “Actually I practice voodoo, you want to see my collection of dolls and shrunken heads ?” or “Oh yes, religion is very important in my life, we’re about to sacrifice some virgins in the back yard this evening, want to stick around ?“

Damn them, they caught me uncaffeinated, and thus unwitty. Clearly, I’m slipping in my old age despite my decpetive youthful appearance.