I was at home when two Jehovah’s witnesses rocked up sporting slamming short-sleeved button-up shirts and ties. I wanted to take pictures of them but they wouldn’t let me because they believe that photographs steal your soul. Or something. I wasn’t really listening.
JW: “Good day m’am, have you heard about the Watchtower?”
ESSIE: “Is that the one where you get to smoke pot?”
JW (nervous laughter): “No, we...”
ESSIE: “Do I get a uniform?”
JW: “No...”
ESSIE: “My old cult had uniforms.”
JW: “That’s...”
ESSIE: “Can you do recreational drugs of any kind?”
JW: “No...”
ESSIE: “What if it’s medical marijuana?”
JW: “No, I don’t...”
ESSIE: “What if Jesus appears and asks you to smoke a fatty? Would you have to do it?”
JW: “Miss, we basically just...”
ESSIE: “How about a hookah?”
(45 minutes later)
ESSIE: “Can you huff paint?”
JW (defeated): “No...”
ESSIE (thinks): “How about sniffing permanent markers?”
JW: “That...sound be fine.”
ESSIE: “Yeah, I might be interested.”
I listened to them intently for maybe 5 minutes and then I offended them by asking them if they’ve ever used
Divine interventions and they asked what it was and I said it was a range of sex toys shaped like Biblical characters. I hope they didn’t put a curse on my house. Or is it gypsies that do that? I don’t know. Why don’t gypsies ever come to my house? I’d be an awesome gypsy. I met some Freemasons at a fair once. They ran the hotdog stand gave me literature but they didn’t have napkins so I used my pamphlet and so I missed my opportunity. True story.
