Goddamn, those Jehovah’s Witness people are stubborn. Stubborn and freaking aggressive. Icing on the cake of a fan-effing-tastic day, lemme tell you.
Let me set the scene:
So there I was, enjoying some peace and quiet while
that slavering honey badger living in the second bedroom Boo was taking a nap. I hadn’t changed out of my pajamas yet, my sweater puppies weren’t caged, and yesterday’s mascara had smeared all around my eyes while I slept, making me look something like a deranged half raccoon. On downers. The stress-migraine hammering away at my skull had decided to migrate south to my shoulders and neck, and there it fornicated with a good old-fashioned sternum-melting case of acid reflux to make some really, really ugly babies. (Really ugly. Like unibrowed, flipper-limbed baby ugly.)
All I wanted was a little time to sit in the darkness to feel sorry for myself.
And then someone knocked on the goddamn door.
I usually ignore people who knock on the door, because they’re usually just trying to sell me something or gain entrance into the house so they can evaluate the street worth of my electronics. (Here’s a hint: not very much.) So of course I pretended not to hear it, figuring the kind of fucktard who elected to walk around knocking on stranger’s doors in the middle of the day while it’s 115° outside would quickly lose interest and leave me alone.
Not so. The knocking continued, interspersed with hushed conversation about (presumably) the abhorrent condition of my the dead patches all over my lawn. Obviously, they weren’t going away until I opened the goddamn door to see what they had to say, so I threw a blanket around my shoulders, poncho-style, to conceal my swinging bazongas and cracked the door a fraction of an inch.
Two small women dressed in polyblend slacks and shortsleeved button down shirts stood there, clutching handfuls of pamphlets. I knew immediately what they were.
Chelsie: Can I help you?
Woman 1: Do have a minute to talk about our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?
Chelsie: (indicating the poncho-blanket) Um, no. Not really. I’m kinda in the middle of something.
Woman 2: It won’t take but a second.
Chelsie: (raises eyebrow) —
Woman 1: Have you ever given any thought to where the word Jehovah comes from?
Chelsie: Um, not really. Look, I really am–
Woman 2: You see, Jehovah comes from the Hebrew word meaning God. And Jesus is God.
Woman 1: (shoves a pamphlet at my chest) You’ll see in this literature–
Chelsie: Look, I know you mean well and all, but here’s the deal. I’ve got a rally at Planned Parenthood, then a doctor’s appointment for my hemophiliac son to get a blood transfusion, and then we need to go to a birthday party for our gay friends’ adopoted Somalian baby. We’re a little busy today. (Starts to close the door.)
Woman 1: What would be a more convenient time to call on you?
Y’all, I just laughed. Laughed and closed the door in their righteous faces. Because obviously someone (not naming names) thinks it’s really funny to subject a suffering woman to the religious right before she’s even had her first dose of caffeine of the day.
I give up.