I hate moving. Absolutely. Hate. It. Yet in a year’s time I have moved thrice. When opportunity strikes you just have to take it. But my parents are starting to hate moving me too. Fortunately I had awesome friends help me move this last time, and my parents missed out.Ma and Pa Dukes haven’t seen the new digs yet. Actually I can count on one hand how many people know where I live right now. So I was completely thrown off guard when my roomie, Katie, said I had visitors Saturday morning.
I was in a deep sleep dreaming of seeing Tangled with my little cousin when she knocked on my door.
“Antonia you have company,” she said.
“Visitors for me?” I said. “People know where I live?”At first I thought it was my little cousin, my parents or some other relative. It took a moment for reality to register. NOBODY KNOWS WHERE I LIVE!In a daze I rushed to make myself look semi-decent. The hair rag had to come off. A bra had to come on. And I had to eat two of my Marvel Superheroes gummy vitamins (don’t judge me). Then I went to greet my visitors.Sitting on the couch was my derby wifey/friend-worker Leanne. To the side were two random young women. I thought they were friends of Katie. They had Bibles, so I pegged them as church members there for a small group meeting. Obviously, Leanne was my visitor, or so I thought. No, it was the two women. I HAVE STALKERS!One of them came by the house last week to witness to me about Jehovah. I was on my way to work, so she left a Watchtower and said she would be back. I didn’t know chick was the Terminator and literally meant it. Back she came with a witnessing buddy.I made the mistake of telling her my name on that first visit. She used that as a ploy to get into the house. Home girl came in and made herself comfortable. She had my roomie thinking we actually knew each other.
At one point I mouthed to Leanne, “I have no idea who these people are.” I also told Katie, who was in the kitchen, and she started laughing. Leanne made polite conversation and asked them how they knew me. All one could say was she didn’t. The other said she came by before. Did I mention I still don’t know either of their names?
Then there was awkward silence. Normal people can take hints when you don’t want to be bothered. Not these two. They were going to tell me about Jehovah even if I was half awake and still in pajamas.
It took one of my coughing fits to make them leave. I made sure to mention I have bronchitis, and out they went, but not before the Terminator said they would be back… again. Are you kidding me? There is no coming back. We are not even cool like that.
I can’t knock the hustle of a Jehovah Witness. They have this witnessing thing on lock, unlike a lot of Christians. Most of us won’t even witness to a friend. But what I will knock is this appearing at my house out the matrix and acting like we’re BFFs. Not. Cool. At. All.
If the Terminator and her sidekick return I’ll be ready. Next time I’m asking for their address. Then I’m going to roll up at their house while they’re sleeping, get comfortable and witness to them. Let’s see how they like unexpected guests.
