I figure its either a Jejovah's witness or the neighbor wanting to borrow something (yet again), and I'm somewhat indisposed so I decide to ride it out, so to speak.
Unfortuntely, I'd left the radio on, signalling my presence, and the knocks grew increasingly more insistent. Knocking evolved into rapping, then finally, pounding.
"What the F*ck?!" I growled as I sprang up, pants bunched around my knees, and waddled to the front window.
Peaking out, I spied a 55 year old white lady, curly grey hair and glasses, getting into her late model pontiac.
She didn't look like a salesman. She didn't look like a religious nut. For some reason I thought she looked like a housekeeper, but mostly, I figured she was lost, so, I pulled up my pants and opened the door.
A goofy smile appeared on her face as I walked out, then she walked back towards me, waving. "Damnit," I muttered to myself, "she is gonna try to sell me something." How wrong I was.
She said something in a little girl's voice as she came up the steps. "Sorry, " I said, "I didn't catch that."
Closer now, she leaned in with that goofy, shy little smile. "Meth," she said, "have you got any meth?"
Since then I've come up with a hundred snappy or more pragmatic retorts. A good one might've been, "I sure do! But how did you hear about me?" In which case I would now know why she was there. But I wasn't quite that fast on my feet.What I said was:
"No. I don't have any meth."
And she got into her pontiac and drove away.