“I don’t think I even know what that word means anymore, Gary.”
“Bad in there?” he asked earnestly.
I was half a beat away from coming back with a sarcastic, “You think?” But why prove how much of a dick I already am? He was just trying to help.
“Got some guns,” BT yelled from somewhere in the house.
I knew in the grand scheme of things that was good news, but it did little to part the veil that I felt had slipped between my eyes and the rest of the world.
Gary got up. “Any ammo?” he yelled.
“Some,” Paul yelled out an upstairs window.
“Do you think God is getting me back?” I asked Gary.
“Huh?” he asked, trying to figure out what I was asking. “What would God be trying to get you back for?”
“I’m not sure I’ve been a great person, Gary.”
“We all have things we’re not proud of, Mike,” he said, turning back towards me.
“Did you ever chase Bible-thumpers off your property?” I asked him.
“Um no, but now I’m intrigued.”
“It was a Saturday morning, couldn’t have been much past nine a.m. and I had drunk to my liver’s content the night before.”
“Hung over then?”
“Understatement. I think I was still drunk.”
“Eww, that’s rough.”
“Tell me about it. Tracy and I had actually gotten into a good-sized fight the night before, something or other about me being drunk.”
“Go figure,” Gary said.
“I know, right?!” I responded, thinking he was agreeing with me, (but now that I’m writing this, I think he was actually coming down on her side.) “So I’m in bed, sleeping my drink off when the doorbell rings. I threw my arm over to the other side of the bed, looking for Tracy to answer the door, but she had already left with the kids to do some errands. I figured it might be some of the kids’ friends and they would get the message when I didn’t answer the door. So I shut my eyes, and not ten seconds later, they rang the doorbell two quick times.”
“What were they thinking?” Gary asked.
“I know, right?!” I was still under the impression he was siding with me, but looking at his written response takes on a whole new meaning. “So I’m in bed and thinking the little shits have one more chance at redemption before the wrath of God comes thundering down the stairs and gives them what for. I shut my eyes again against the hurtful rays of the sun, peeking around the shades. Another two blasts on the doorbell.”
“Kind of like the bells of Notre Dame.”
“Are you giving me shit, Gary?” I honestly asked because he was so dry in his delivery, I couldn’t tell. He shook his head vigorously. “But yeah, it kinda was like those bells, my head was splitting, my vision was blurry, I had to piss like a race horse, and my stomach felt like I had drunk a pint of bacon grease after eating chili dogs.”
“That doesn’t sound too good, Mike.” Gary said, starting to look a little green-tinged.
“Sorry, brother.” I had to remember Gary did not have the strongest stomach.
Go on, he motioned with one hand; he kept the other up close to his mouth.
So I ripped the door open, my gaze downward, expecting to yell at some little puissant about bothering grown-ups on their day off. What I got instead were two women and one man.”
“Were they selling vacuums?”
“What? What the hell would make you ask that?”
“I once bought a vacuum cleaner from a door-to-door salesman, one of the best vacuums I ever bought.”
“It wasn’t vacuums. Can I finish my story?” I asked him. But I think I had lost him for a few beats as he thought about his domicile super sucker. “So there they are at my door and this lady with a far-off stare and wild hair starts spouting about how I can survive the end of the world.”
“Did you listen? That sounds like some pretty good advice,” Gary said, coming back from the reverie of his vacuum experience.
“Who knew Jehovah Witnesses were so prophetic?” I said more as a statement.
“Jehovah’s? They’re like bedbugs--once you let them in your house, they’re damn near impossible to get rid of.”
“You sound like you’ve had personal experience.”
“I invited them in for coffee.”
“What the hell were you thinking? You just wanted to show them your new vacuum, I bet.” Gary bent his head slightly like I had hit the nail on the head. “How did you get rid of them?”
“It was getting late and one of them had to get ready for bed,” Gary replied.
“How long were they there?”