This kid shows up on my doorstep the other day, fingertipping the doorbell pathologically like he’s just discovered the clitoris or something. & what the clitoris is is… Well, we’ll go into that later, maybe. I tend to go off track & we’re pressed for time. Go ask your mum about it.
But this kid on my doorstep… Yeah.
He looks like a good kid: white teeth, shined shoes, cuff links, no visible tattoos, the whole nine yards. Daddy would approve, you know? & sure it’s like 8:30 on a Sunday morning, but this is 1 wholesome, all-American kid, I’m telling ya, & I’m the 1 who stays out too late on Saturday nights.
Unless… Maybe the kid is another one of those crackheads I keep hearing about. Could be he hasn’t even been to bed yet!
But then again, I keep seeing those shoes. Those shoes have not been out all night, no ways.
So I look @ him expectantly, waiting for whatever happens next. Surprise me, baby.
//Good morning!\\ he inaccurately snorts, just alluva sudden. & I gotta tell you, he’s really not off to a winning start. & //have you heard about Jesus Christ?\\
Have I what?
//Jesus Christ, you say?\\ I say, //No, what is that? Never heard of that. Must be new, or else someone’s keeping a tight lid on it. Low profile kinda thing.\\
I look around all conspirator-like & I say, //Thanks for the heads up. Don’t worry: I’ll keep my eyes peeled, & I’ll make a full report if I hear anything.\\
Then I close the door & go back to bed.
Just another ranting crackhead waking me up on a Sunday morning? Or is it something more?
There’s just no way to know for certain. So if you hear any more about this whole //Jesus Christ\\ thingamabob, you should probably contact the Sunday doorbell kid right away. It might allow him to sleep in for a change.