The Journal of Joe The Peacock. Yay.

8.22.2004:

5:37 PM

I'm not a bad person.

I swear to God I'm not.

But dammit... sometimes, Jehova's Witnesses just plain NEED the hose turned on them.

Especially when they've been standing there for the past hour watching you prune your flowerbed, all the while preaching and talking and refusing to take your subtle hints (then later, out and out demands) for them to leave.

Now, I feel bad for having done it. I do, I really do. But really, you would have done the same thing. I mean, think about it - you're out in your own yard in a cul-de-sac that you have to cross a bridge to get to. You see two Jehova's Witnesses approach. You nod and smile and know that there's no way they're there to visit someone else, because you are one of only two houses in that cul-de-sac. They engage you in conversation and you politely tell them that you're not interested and quite busy.

"Oh, that's alright, we can talk to ya while you work."

Anger Meter - 30%.

You dig and you weed and you plant bulbs, wiping sweat from your brow with a grimy glove, smearing the resulting mud all over your face. You huff and pant as you slam the post-hole-digger into the rocky ground. The sun is relentless as it beats down on you; large damp spots form under your armpits and in the small of your back.

And still, these people continue a one-sided conversation about... Oh, i dunno. Jesus coming over here in a canoe and taking 144,000 people back with him to Disneyworld. Whatever the hell they believe. You say "Listen, as much as you want to tell me these things, I really don't have time to hear them. As you can see, I'm quite busy."

"Well," they say, "It doesn't seem like we've been much of a hinderance on your workflow so far, so we can stick around. It'll be alright."

Anger Meter: 70%.

You stare right into their eyes, making sure to pay equal attention and equal time to both of them. You turn around, walk inside, and fix yourself a cold drink of water. You retrieve a rake and a garden trowel from your garage and head back outside, and they're still there. They now have their bible open to some page and begin quoting scripture at you. You say "Ok, honestly, this is ridiculous. You're trespassing at this point, and I don't want to be a dick, but this is, after all, my property and I've politely asked you to leave. So I really need you to just skedaddle on outta here."

"And deny yourself the glory of God's word? You'd ask messengers of God to leave? Wow, you must really want to go to hell."

Yes, he said that.

Anger Meter: 90%.

"Well, sir," you say, "The way I figure it, i've got another 50 years before I need to make things right with God. You, however, have about 10 seconds to make things right with me, and the only way to do that is to GO."

"Well, I think I'm going to have to exercise my First Amendment Rights here," he says to you.

"The First Amendment is null and void here," You say. "You'll have to go someplace that I don't own, and the nearest spot for that is either over THERE, past the cow pasture, or back the way you came, across that bridge. I'd recommend the bridge, though. Less cow shit."

"You can't revoke my First Amendment rights," he said. "This is America - one country under God - that's Jehova, mind you - and I'm free to.."

At this point, you cannot hear him anymore, because you've marched over to the spigot and turned it on full-force. You have the sprayer nozzle in your hand; the fine mist escaping from where the threds of the nozzle don't exactly match up cooling the hot blood pumping through your right arm. You have the nozzle aimed squarely at the Jehova's Witnesses, and one says, "You wouldn't DARE."

Would you?

Yeah, me too. So I did.

And God - er, Jehova - was it wonderful.

* * *

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The Journal of Joe The Peacock. Yay.

8.22.2004:

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