Most Saturday mornings I’m up with the birds, running, unless I have cramps, in which case I’m probably moaning, crying, wondering why orgasm isn’t dulling the pain anymore, considering pregnancy and trying not to let the blood run down my legs while in the fetal position. Yesterday was such a Saturday, so when the pounding unceasing knocking woke me from a light miserable sleep, I was more than pissed and ready to eat the door knocker’s throat.
It was a Jehovah’s Witness, two to be exact, all sunshine in their short sleeve dress shirts, carefully pressed khakis and smiles so bright it seemed an act of belligerence. I just stared not out of rudeness, that would come later, but out of confusion, I thought they had taken me off their list years ago when I told them I practiced witchcraft and invited them to join me one moonlight evening for nakedness and evil. I guess they thought I moved, unfortunately for all involved I hadn’t, even more unfortunate the pain coupled with the drugs left me decidedly unwitty and without verbal finesse, so I went with an oldie but goody – contrary and bitchy.
They wanted to talk to me about abortion, specifically, what God would say about abortion – you sense the danger, I knew the danger, but they guileless and joyful did not. I told them I didn’t know what God thought of abortion since he hadn’t returned my texts so I was sticking with my uncompromisingly pro-choice stance. The bespectacled man ignored this and suggested we read together from some book somewhere near the back of his Bible. I offered no objection, I also offered no encouragement so he proceeded and I can honestly say I have no idea what the fuck he said or what the hell it had to do with abortion. I said, “Wow, I’m still pro-choice but tell God I said thank you for sending you to me.”
The bespectacled man was thrown for a loop and looked to the senior until now silent member of this heavenly tag team, because obviously I needed heavy handling and guidance. The senior sir asked if they could come back next week, which prompted me to inquire why and he suggested that we could all sit and discuss God’s view on abortion. It was time for the heavy guns, I told him I wasn’t interested in God’s view on abortion as interpreted by patriarchal religions and men, I told him I wonder what Mary would have done all those years ago if she’d had a choice and finally I told them blood was about to drip down my leg so I’d have to go soon.
It wasn’t the best way to handle the situation but little sleep, lot of pain and a decided dislike for religious people coming unwelcome and uninvited to my door to spread their version of the Gospel made me angry. They left their booklet, whch I did not want, with me, not very green of them, but I took care of that by following them off my front steps to deposit the reading material into the recycling bin, they saw me and I simply said, "I bet God is green."
I hope the booklet is recycled into the paper insert of a Safe Sex DVD for school children or at least a porn magazine.
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