They Found Me.

Saturday morning, 8:27 AM. Not the best time of day for me, especially after being up 'til nearly 3 and sleeping on the couch. Doorbell rings, loud knocking on my door. I guess in hindsight that I should've expected Jehovah's Witnesses, but in my grogginess I wasn't really expecting anything.

When I opened the door, it was really bright and I couldn't look all the way up to see who was there (the sun backlit their faces, like renegade angels), so the first things I saw were some neatly pressed blue pants, a pamphlet with "Jehovah's Kingdom" in gaudy letters, and a copy of the Watchtower. Fuck, I thought. They found me. And they get to see me in all the glory that boxers and a ratty t-shirt afford. When I could finally see them, they were blond. They pissed me off right away.

I didn't hear much of what they said, but I remember saying, "Oh no" and "No thanks" at some point. For some reason, the movie Orgazmo came to mind. After heading back inside, I wondered two things: First, on a purely selfish note, I wondered if they woke up my neighbors on the second and third floors too. Seems only right that they'd ring all three buzzers. Second, I wondered why it took so long for them to get to me. Perhaps I'm never around when they visit during the day. But I had only been in Japan for less than three months before a little Japanese Jehovah's Witness nervously knocked on my door (boy, was she shocked to find a hung-over gaijin with very little tolerance for sunlight at 7AM on a saturday).

In any case, I hope the Malden address is now off their list. At least till the next edition of Watchtower comes out. I'll be waiting with a bottle of Jack and a billy club... and if I'm lucky, I'll have some satanic pamphlets ready to throw back at them.