always be honest, except for when you lie

Sunday, January 23, 2005

hi, are you the weirdo who was just at my door?

Look, weird creeps of the world. Seriously. Look. Here's me, flipping you off. See that? It means go away. Go the mary mother of god away from my house before I have at you with a shovel. Hear me? See that? Look.

A man came to our door this morning. We were installing a new light fixture in the hall. It matches the new one we put in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago. It's nice, gives off a nice atmospherey glow. The light. Not the creep at the door. He gave off creepiness.

I said several posts back that I don't answer my door. I normally don't but for some bloody reason I have done so twice in the past week. Twice. Once at night to someone I did not know. At all. It's like I've lost my mind.

Let me tell you about the guy from today.

I open the door and he goes, "Hello, M'am, is your husband home?"

He's got some piece of paper in his hand and with Husband having once been served papers by a jackass who looked and smelled no better than this guy I decided to undertake protecting my husband from whatever this individual was about.

I go, "What's this about?" Firm like. Because I mean to show how tough I am.

This is when he gets weird. Because just looking at him you might have thought he was weird enough but no. Not at all. He says, "I used to work at some blah blah blah and buried in the conrete was a capusle and in there was this piece of paper" -begins unfloding paper- "blah blah blah." His hands are shaking, he seems emotionally attached to this paper, this capsule, this business he has come to bother me about.

By now I am holding the interior handle of the screen door and he is holding the exterior handle. He yanks on it, as though he is trying to get in, get closer, make me see whatever it is about this piece of paper. Naturally, I shook my head and said no thanks buddy and tried to close the door.

I say TRIED because he was pulling at it from the other side. I mean, my fingers hurt resisting him. I finally yanked at it, closed it and slammed the inside door shut. And made sure it was locked. I felt like, honestly, this fucker was going to try to come in whether I wanted him to or not.

As I closed the doors he was trembling, seemed like he might cry. "Please m'am," he begged, "please."

What the fuck?

Then he went to the guy across the street. I guess they heard him out because he was there longer than he was here but we couldn't see what was going on. We tried. But couldn't. After a couple of minutes he came out, got in his car and drove away. I tried to get Husband to go over to the neighbour and see what it was about but we don't know them very well and they have their own weirdness about them. So.

I have no idea what it was all about.

Whatever he wanted you can bet one thing for damned sure: I'm done answering the door. If you're coming over A) don't be a weird creepy guy and B) call before you come because I'm not even looking out the window to see if I know the person knocking. Screw that. Scuh-rew that.

A note to the creeps of the world: feck off, will ya? I don't care about your capsules and papers and other weird shit.

That's all.