Occasionally, everything just seems to click. I was over at a friends house the other day feasting feverishly on quessadilla's with a group of friends when some guys in suits came to the door. They looked rather like Mormons, but without the little nametag and the holier-than-thou look upon their faces. Since I was fortunate enough to answer the door, I was greeted by the obvious ringleader of the trio. My hatred for door-to-door solicitors is well known, and the following conversation took place:
Salesman: "Hey, I'm just curious if you guys ever eat pizza?"
Me: "Yes, I have been known to ingest pizza from time to time."
Salesman: "You ever order from Pappa Johns?"
Me: "Why yes, I have been known to ingest pizza ordered from Pappa John's from time to time."
Salesman: "Well then what would you say if I told you that for just $20, I can get you over $200 worth of Pappa John's Pizza?"
Me: "I'd tell you that I don't have twenty dollars."
Salesman: "Well then what would you say if I told you we take checks?"
Me: "I'd tell you that I don't have a checkbook on me."
Salesman: "Well then what would you say if I told you that we could come back later?"
Me: "I'd tell you that would be great since I won't be here then." (much laughter from the peanut gallery at this point)
I'm guessing he wasn't used to being turned down in quite that manner, as he left with a rather confused, yet dejected look on his face. His partners also seemed somewhat confused, and followed the ringleader off to the next residence. (which happened to belong to two middle-aged lesbians who called the cops on us because this one guy ran around the yard wearing a white trashbag over his head.) Ahhh, memories.
Sorry to steal your thunder, Paul
Jeff C.
