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03-01-03 - 10:20 a.m. (The time is 7:30 a.m. The place is here, my home.) Door: Knock, knock. Me, on the couch after finally managing to get four hours of uninterrupted sleep: Groan. Cat: Purr. Door: Knock, knock. Me: Rob, get the door! (even though I'm currently about ten feet from it, and he's on a different floor) Door: Knock, knock, knock! Me: ROB, GET THE DOOR! Ricky: HE WENT TO WORK! SHUT UP AND ANSWER IT YOURSELF! Me: YOU ARE SO GROUNDED! GET THE DOOR! Ricky: YOU GET IT! Door: Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock-knock Me: I'M COMING! STOP KNOCKING ALREADY! (I get up, check the time, mutter "Jesus fucking Christ," and go to the door, unlock it, and open it to find an African-American couple, the woman holding a young child in her arms.) Me: I sincerely hope you're here to sell cookies. Gentleman: No, Miss, I'm sorry, we're not. Lady: We're here on behalf of God. Me: I was afraid of that. Gentleman: Do you go to church? Me: Y'know, I'm sorry, but it is way too early for this. Try coming back in like, oh, I don't know, never. Lady: Are you aware that each day millions of souls that could have been saved are plunged down into the depths of hell? Me: I hear the weather's warm there this time of year. Gentleman: Miss, we want to save you. Me: Look. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in any god. I don't even believe in myself. And I sure as hell am not going to believe in any religion that can be peddled door-to-door. Thank you. Door: Slam. Ricky: Who was it? Me: It was an abstract visual metaphor depicting the evils of our immoral, capitalist society. Now go back to bed. Fuckers. Haven't been able to get back to sleep.
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