Short Stories, Long Odds

I was in the middle of a serious WiiFit session when the door bell rang. I picked Molly the Corgi up because she is crazy and I walked over to the foyer. We don’t have windows or a peephole so I couldn’t see who it was before I opened the door.

Standing there was a man in a suit and a woman in a dress. They had literature. As we are coming up on a national election, I figured they were either Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Republicans, or Democrats. Or possibly Obamacans. They were too old to vote for Ron Paul.

“Oh, you have your little puppy there,” the man said, obviously offput by the fact that I was holding a dog. It may also have been my appearance. I hadn’t showered yet and was in my workout clothes, and if you’ve ever seen what my hair does when I sleep, you would know that if not for the fact that I answered the door from inside what is ostensibly my home, I appeared to be homeless.

“We just have some information for you,” said the woman. They were both kindly enough up until this point, but the woman thrust the pamphlet into my hands and said, too loudly, “Who really rules the world?!” Those words were printed on the pamphlet, but her verve told me they were also in her heart and mind.

“Okay,” I mumbled, looking at the pamphlet and seeing Jesus throwing up the dis to a pair of obviously malevolent, disembodied hands trying to fork over the National Mall.

“Just an interesting question for you to ponder,” said the man.  “Could Satan  have offered Jesus all the world’s governments if they didn’t belong  to him?”

“Belong to Satan?” I asked.

“Yesssssss,” intoned the woman. “The world’s governments are in Satan’s hands!”

Maybe they are voting for Ron Paul, I thought, and smiled a little.

“Does what we say ring true?” the man said, encouraged by my facial expression. He took a steep forward, making his best Barry Sanders break for daylight.

I said, “Let me leave you with this, wanderers. I’d like to give your church $30,000.”

The woman gasped. “How wonderful!” exclaimed the man.

“I also have bad news for you. I just offered you something that I don’t have, and can’t actually give you.”

The silence was stony, and I sensed any shot I had at a free copy of The Watchtower slipping away.

“We’ll just leave that with you then,” said the man.  I closed the door.