September 17, 2003
I suggest that before this situation occurs again, Meryl acquire: the soundtrack to The Omen; a long, black robe (preferably high-collared, or even better, hooded -- but one of those decolletage-revealing Morticia gowns will do in a pinch); one of those long barbecue lighters; and some tall, black or red pillar candles. Put the candles on a table by the door, add a bowl (a suggestive stain of some dried substance on the bottom -- ketchup, or coffee -- will add to the effect), some dead flowers, and a figurine of a gargoyle or skeleton or something (it's Halloween -- you can probably get cheap plastic crap at the dimestore). Have the robe hanging ready on a hook by the door. Have the cd in the player cued to start. When that knock on the door comes again, flick on the cd, light the candle with the lighter (incense would also be nice, the real churchy kind), and pull the robe on. Then open the door. Of course, this would really go over well if you had makeup on that made you look like a zombie, I'm thinking white Halloween face makeup with green lipstick and black eyeshadow (again, cheap at the drugstore at this time of year!) --
Then again, maybe this is too much trouble to go through.
Posted by Andrea Harris at September 17, 2003 11:59 PM
Don't get me wrong, it does sound like fun, but how does that beat just telling them to sod off and die?
I never said it did. I was trying to be (what's that word... oh yeah) funny.
Ahhh, touché. ;-)
(BTW, I wasn't knocking it as being un-funny or anything, so don't take it the wrong way.)
I used to work with a Staff Sergeant in the AF (name witheld to protect the crazier than an outhouse rat) who insisted on meeting all proselityzers at the door, nude, and conducting all religous discussions in his house, nude, whilst cleaning his extensive collection of firearms.
He swore that the only assholes who ever returned for a second visit were the Mormons.
I offer to let them make their pitch for two minutes but then its my turn.
When its my turn I tell them that I'm big on animal sacrifice and do they know where I can get a goat or even a small dog.
They never come back.
When I lived in SoCal, we were visited on a regular basis by two nice little middle-aged Mexican women, who were the local Jehovah's Witnesses. I didn't notice when they stopped visiting at first, but one day, several of us were chatting, and Brenda (a neighbor) mentioned it. Steve, our 6'3", 240 lb, hairy, linebacker next door neighbor, laughed and explained that he took care of them. He answered the door stark naked. He said the ladies blanched, let out little squeals, and ran off. It worked, and I would have loved to have seen their expressions.