Solicitors

Once, while I was living with my friend Sarah, we were hanging out around midday when the doorbell rang. At the doorbell was a creature I like to think of as an isz (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Maxx#Isz, or for a picture, http://www.cybercomicsandtoys.com/actionfigures/images/Other/SpawnMaxxFaoShwarzWith4Isz.JPG). It was a solicitor.

The isz began to speak as soon as the door was opened, saying something like this: "Hi I'm selling this thing we want to go to Cancun just sign your soul away and win a free trip hey do you want to come with us we have a free spot in a magazine! Come on just one little signature and we'll all get to go to Cancun..." right past the response of "No thanks" up until the door was shut in his face.

He went away, but we were concerned he might come back, so measures were taken. Sarah made a lovely sign to hang on our door which read: Solicitors will be Eviscerated. Thank you and have a nice day! We hung it with an X made of red duct tape. In the window next to the door, we arranged a cutting board with a large kitchen knife and a banana cut into pieces. We piled our weapons by the door where they could be seen if the door were to be opened. Each of us took one, naturally.

Predictably enough, the isz (or another like it) came back with the same shpiel, Sarah and I answered the door.

"Did you see the sign?" Sarah politely inquired. The isz ignored her and kept talking.

"Should we kill him, or just shut the door?" I asked Sarah.

We exchanged a glance, the kind of glance which says: I don't want to clean the blood off the door, let alone explain it to the police. Then we shut the door in his face.

Amazingly, as we did so, the solicitor stopped his rant long enough to say, "Thanks for being rude!"

"You, too!" I sang sweetly as the last crack of light from the doorway disappeared.