A ring at the doorbell.
Rising off of my shitty 10 dollar sofa, i'm taking long, slow strides toward the door. My favorite show "Three's Company" is on the boob tube, so you know i'm just hanging out on this beautiful summer afternoon. I don't get many unexpected visitors-- Wait, check that, I don't get any unexpected visitors. I'm going to the door in sweats, thinking this aint a goodamn broad coming to give me some relief. Prolly some of them fuckin Jehovah's or some shit. O you already know this lad's gonna peer through the door before he answers it.
So that's exactly what I do. I get on my tippy toes and lean forward, putting my eye directly at the germ infested looking glass on my door.
Before I get a good look at the FUCK! who just rammed my door, i'm holding my eye, praying to the eye god's i'm not going to be blind.
This is utter bull shit. There is a frigging school girl at my door with a box of chocolates. I open the door, quickly, ready to give this brat a piece of my mind. She opens the conversation first, with a "Good morninggggggg, mister. Wanna buy some of my candiessss?"
I reply with a curt "Fuck no." and proceed to shut the door.
Her foot stops my attempt and in an even more innocent voice, says "Misterrrrrrrrr, wanna buy some candiessss?"
My response is the same.
She goes on to say "But mister, my grandma bought some and she says Good People Buy Some."
I kick her foot out of the door and shut it quickly. The little girl begins to ram my door repeatedly.
Laughing, I say "Go away you little fuck. I'm not interested in your crappy diabetes gems." I have never used the term "diabetes gem," but it felt appropriate, so I gave it a whirl. The ramming didn't stop. I sat down and continued to distractedly watch my good ol show as the little pain rammed my door. But, oddly, instead of dying out, the rams get stronger and then stronger more. I sneak over to the door and the violent ramming stops abruptly. I peak out, again and before being smacked in the eye again, see 2 little girls outside this time. I stay there and the rams steadily become more and more violent and, as I get smacked in the face, I notice more and more little girls who seem to be clones of the one who originally stood there. The hinges creak after a while and the living room quakes under their might. One girl cries out, "No police, misterrrrrrr. Buy a canddddyy."
The door comes down. The girls pile into my little abode one by one in a kind of scattering military formation, hinting at the serious and severe nature of the situation. The leader and the original girl walks slowly over to the television and turns off my dear Three's Company. She then repeats "Buy a candy, mister." This time in a very serious and ominous tone. My gaze settles on each of the 4 foot something girls, all standing erect and shooting harsh looks into my rapidly winking eyes. I begin to weep, unable to speak. The other girls start to take everything in my home, claiming it for what I can only assume is the state. Everything! The television, the desk, the sofa, the stamp collection i'd had since the third grade. Meanwhile, I lay on the ground, curled up in a ball.
They begin to leave and the leader slowly turns around and for the final time says in a resigned tone, "Buy a candy, mister."