A friend recently visited me from the west coast, and as I was meeting her boyfriend for the first time, she divulged to him that her long time friend (me) has a twisted and bitterly sarcastic humor she adores. At least in my narcissistic universe that's how I think she feels about me. She recants this story, which quite honestly I had forgotten, about a time when I expressed my well known quick nasty wit and thrust its sleep deprivation induced venom upon an innocent preacher one morning. Luckily the guy had a GREAT sense of humor, and we both had a good laugh at the end of it. I guarantee it was the most interesting door to door experience he had that morning.
Once upon a time I was a waitress. This one night I stayed way past my grumpy time working, then didn't get home until the wee hours of the morning. In that type of working situation, you're not an early riser. Let's just say that awakening a hibernating Kodiak bear would have been more pleasant than waking me from my slumber given the circumstances. Groggy eyed Abbie hears a "Knock, Knock", at the door at 7:30 AM. I ask myself, Who the h*** is knocking at my door at this ungodly hour? Opening the door, I see this lovely man dressed in spiritual garb and offering a welcome to his new church down the road. Nice man, seems sweet. Too bad he knocked on my door, poor guy doesn't know what verbal poo is about to hit him in the jugular. Understand that I have nothing against spirituality, people of god, or those who want to work as their messengers. I just like sleep. A lot.
Preacher: "Hi, I'm (blah blah blah) and I'm looking for people who are interested in joining my church down the road. We just opened our doors, and I'm hoping we can interest you in stopping by to see our service. (I'm nodding, and not really paying attention.) Let me ask you a question, If you were to walk out your door today, and get hit by a bus, do you think you would go to heaven or to hell?"
Now, I'm one for a good spiritual debate just as anyone else, but on 3 hours of sleep there is no way MY brain is able to function on any level of social appropriateness. I'm not even able to do that on a full nights sleep... on a good day... when the sun is shining... and even if I had all those teleprompters in front of me telling me the right things to say like the President. This being said from a descendant of catholic nuns no less. I think I mentioned before I have issues... but, I digress... onward with the true story.
Abbie: "Oh, Pssht! That's an easy question... (his associate scoffs and replies under his breath, 'Easy?') HEAVEN. I'm definitely going to Heaven.
Preacher: "Well! (LAUGHING) You certainly seem convinced of this answer, are you sure? If you stand firm with your reply, why, may I ask, do you feel so strongly about that?"
Abbie: "Well, you see preacher, I've already BEEN to Hell. So if I *DON'T* go to Heaven, there IS no God." *Insert-Cheshire-Cat grin-and-sleepy-rub-of-eyes*
At this point he breaks out into laughter, and so does his assistant. They both agreed that was the best answer they had heard in their entire career of soliciting followers. We shook hands and he gave me a literature packet so that I could decide later if I wanted to follow his church to make him smile more. I thought since I subjected him enough to my torture, I would let him go on his way, making others wonder about their own mortality and how quickly their life would end by being hit with a bus at 7:30 AM.
True story.
Once upon a time I was a waitress. This one night I stayed way past my grumpy time working, then didn't get home until the wee hours of the morning. In that type of working situation, you're not an early riser. Let's just say that awakening a hibernating Kodiak bear would have been more pleasant than waking me from my slumber given the circumstances. Groggy eyed Abbie hears a "Knock, Knock", at the door at 7:30 AM. I ask myself, Who the h*** is knocking at my door at this ungodly hour? Opening the door, I see this lovely man dressed in spiritual garb and offering a welcome to his new church down the road. Nice man, seems sweet. Too bad he knocked on my door, poor guy doesn't know what verbal poo is about to hit him in the jugular. Understand that I have nothing against spirituality, people of god, or those who want to work as their messengers. I just like sleep. A lot.
Preacher: "Hi, I'm (blah blah blah) and I'm looking for people who are interested in joining my church down the road. We just opened our doors, and I'm hoping we can interest you in stopping by to see our service. (I'm nodding, and not really paying attention.) Let me ask you a question, If you were to walk out your door today, and get hit by a bus, do you think you would go to heaven or to hell?"
Now, I'm one for a good spiritual debate just as anyone else, but on 3 hours of sleep there is no way MY brain is able to function on any level of social appropriateness. I'm not even able to do that on a full nights sleep... on a good day... when the sun is shining... and even if I had all those teleprompters in front of me telling me the right things to say like the President. This being said from a descendant of catholic nuns no less. I think I mentioned before I have issues... but, I digress... onward with the true story.
Abbie: "Oh, Pssht! That's an easy question... (his associate scoffs and replies under his breath, 'Easy?') HEAVEN. I'm definitely going to Heaven.
Preacher: "Well! (LAUGHING) You certainly seem convinced of this answer, are you sure? If you stand firm with your reply, why, may I ask, do you feel so strongly about that?"
Abbie: "Well, you see preacher, I've already BEEN to Hell. So if I *DON'T* go to Heaven, there IS no God." *Insert-Cheshire-Cat grin-and-sleepy-rub-of-eyes*
At this point he breaks out into laughter, and so does his assistant. They both agreed that was the best answer they had heard in their entire career of soliciting followers. We shook hands and he gave me a literature packet so that I could decide later if I wanted to follow his church to make him smile more. I thought since I subjected him enough to my torture, I would let him go on his way, making others wonder about their own mortality and how quickly their life would end by being hit with a bus at 7:30 AM.
True story.