Knock, Knock, Knockin' on my Effin' Door
The scene unfolded in this manner:
*LOUD POUNDING ON THE FRONT DOOR OF MY HOME*
Your Hero sits reading the newspaper, dog napping at his side, after a long day at work. The pounding, while extremely Loud, was Not Loud Enough to Wake the Slumbering Canine (but, one must keep in mind, the English Bulldog is 8 1/2 and most Things will NOT roust him from his forays into Nod; it usually needs to be something in the Aromatic and Highly Edible Department) and, with this AND the fact that my neighbors all hate me, I decided that there was no reason for me to answer the door. Several More strikes to the door followed but, then, silence.
I smirked and returned to my newspaper and the gutteral snorks of the snoring EBD.
*LOUD POUNDING ON THE SIDE DOOR OF MY HOME*
Your Hero unleashes an Amplified FUCK ME. Persistent Bastards. Can't take a hint...and to Hell with the Fact that someone is Obviously home (lights on but the shades were down). Fuck.
I abandon my post on the couch, my paper, and the dog and go to answer the door. Fuckers.
It's three little kids and what I assume to be a mother/care provider/parole officer.
She speaks to the one kid standing on my steps closest to the door (and, thus, me).
"Go Ahead."
The lad begins his spiel/pitch.
"Would you like to buy some candy bars to support our Youth Hockey League?"
This is why I got up? This is why they pounded on BOTH of my doors?
Wiping the scowl and accompanying deep set squint quickly from my mug I responded with one of the following (feel free to guess which one):
"My wife neither allows me to eat candy of any kind NOR have money on my person."
"I'm unemployed and diabetic."
"I would but I'm allergic to chocolate and shellfish; your Hockey League wouldn't want my death on their collective heads would they?"
"I recently had gastric bypass surgery and my doctor is a real stickler about sweets."
"A candy bar was the reason behind my father's murder...a candy bar and a crowbar, actually."
"Are they Krackel Bars? If they ain't Krackel I want you off my property NOW. I can't abide the work of the Caramel Industry."
"CHOCOLATE PIG HOLES! CHOCOLATE PIG HOLES! AAAAIIII!!!! The unpuckered Swine recti have been Plucked out of Season! RUN! RUN! RUN!"
T
The scene unfolded in this manner:
*LOUD POUNDING ON THE FRONT DOOR OF MY HOME*
Your Hero sits reading the newspaper, dog napping at his side, after a long day at work. The pounding, while extremely Loud, was Not Loud Enough to Wake the Slumbering Canine (but, one must keep in mind, the English Bulldog is 8 1/2 and most Things will NOT roust him from his forays into Nod; it usually needs to be something in the Aromatic and Highly Edible Department) and, with this AND the fact that my neighbors all hate me, I decided that there was no reason for me to answer the door. Several More strikes to the door followed but, then, silence.
I smirked and returned to my newspaper and the gutteral snorks of the snoring EBD.
*LOUD POUNDING ON THE SIDE DOOR OF MY HOME*
Your Hero unleashes an Amplified FUCK ME. Persistent Bastards. Can't take a hint...and to Hell with the Fact that someone is Obviously home (lights on but the shades were down). Fuck.
I abandon my post on the couch, my paper, and the dog and go to answer the door. Fuckers.
It's three little kids and what I assume to be a mother/care provider/parole officer.
She speaks to the one kid standing on my steps closest to the door (and, thus, me).
"Go Ahead."
The lad begins his spiel/pitch.
"Would you like to buy some candy bars to support our Youth Hockey League?"
This is why I got up? This is why they pounded on BOTH of my doors?
Wiping the scowl and accompanying deep set squint quickly from my mug I responded with one of the following (feel free to guess which one):
"My wife neither allows me to eat candy of any kind NOR have money on my person."
"I'm unemployed and diabetic."
"I would but I'm allergic to chocolate and shellfish; your Hockey League wouldn't want my death on their collective heads would they?"
"I recently had gastric bypass surgery and my doctor is a real stickler about sweets."
"A candy bar was the reason behind my father's murder...a candy bar and a crowbar, actually."
"Are they Krackel Bars? If they ain't Krackel I want you off my property NOW. I can't abide the work of the Caramel Industry."
"CHOCOLATE PIG HOLES! CHOCOLATE PIG HOLES! AAAAIIII!!!! The unpuckered Swine recti have been Plucked out of Season! RUN! RUN! RUN!"
T
posted by Tony at 4:59 PM
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