#he really lives rent free in the entire crew's mind huh

[shadowboxmind]

Grabbing Sunday by the neck wings and shaking him until he realizes that THAT IS NOT HOW YOU CARE FOR AN INJURED BABY BIRD, YOUR OPTIONS ARE NOT LIMITED TO "build it a useless nest and leave it alone forever" OR "put it in a small cage and never let it out until well into its adulthood and then toss it back into the wild to fend for itself" NO FUCKING WONDER IT CRASHED IT PROBABLY HADN'T GOTTEN ANY EXERCISE IN YEARS

"yeah but it's just an allegory for his personal philosophy" well his allegory is bad and he would probably have better mental health if he updated it

"maybe they did let it out to fly around indoors" then Sunday should not have been surprised about its flying capabilities and also that would weaken his stupid allegory

Of course the important thing is: they were young children, of course they didn't know how to properly raise an injured bird! But you know what should have happened? Their adult guardian figure should have helped them. But Mr. Gopher "HR nightmare" Wood was more concerned about using the opportunity to convince Sunday that Space Catholicism is Cool, Actually than being a good parental figure. So the bird thing was more of a representation of their own childhoods, and the Dreammaster's manipulations and influence throughout their lives is exactly how they ended up with the Charmony Festival mess in the end.

Anyways Robin for president, she's the only normal person in the family

[kyinpeachichu]

Genshin impact boys reaction to showing them your magical serenitea pot

===================================================Basically their reaction when you show them a whole adeptal world of your own inside something that can fit in a bag. Characters mentioned: Diluc; Kaeya; Childe/tartaglia; Zhongli; Bennett; Xiao; Kazuha; Albedo. ====================================================

Diluc:

"Your house? I never knew you actually had a place to stay."

- Aaaannnndddddd he turns you down cuz he's busy at the moment.

- You had to ask him a few times but he pretty much turned you down every time.

-He didn't mean anything bad by it. He really was just busy. He still is the dark knight hero after all.

- When he had free time though, he was sitting by himself in his room, and he feels like he's forgetting something.

- Then he remembered you and he thought "Well I have free time now. It would be interesting to see where the traveler lives."

- He went out to find you, and when he did, he brought it up.

- You were so excited and happy when you pulled out your teapot from your inventory..... that it confused him for a second.

- "Oh... uh, I didn't know you collected antiques too Traveler. Is that a new decoration you found for you home?"

- To be honest he thought the teapot looked kinda normal, and it didn't have any historic value by the looks of it. But he didn't want to be rude and question your tastes.

- You looked at him for a second before remembering that you actually have to explain

- "Oh, right. This may be a little confusing but...... this teapot, is my house......"

- Diluc was just straight up confused. He didn’t know what to say. "Uh..... I see....."

- But you didn't let him wait and you let him your teapot home.

- He was surprised of course, but at the same time, he somehow knew something like this could happen to you.

- He was in awe, but he didn't show it. (Much to your disappointment)

Kaeya

"Oh my, Are you inviting me over? Well what gives me the right to say no?"

- you were happy he said yes almost immediately.

- "So, where do we go?" / "Oh, we dont need to go anywhere. My house is riigghhttt- Here!"

- He was surprised when you dug through you inventory and pulled out a teapot.

- He was confused but he didn't say anything.

-You didn't waste time pulling him into your humble abode~

- You turned to see his reaction, and you were happy to see it

- He showed more reaction than Diluc did. His one un-covered eye was open wide and his mouth was ajar. But he didn't let out so much as a gasp.

- After that he laughed and said "You never cease to amaze me Traveler."

Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax

"Sure, I dont have anything to do at the moment."

- and just like that, he agreed

- Being a rich bank owner- (*cough* sugar daddy), you can bet his home in snezhnaya will be a friggin mansion.

- He doesn't expect your house to be a mansion though. But if he sees that it's just an old shed, he's gonna buy you one.

- "So where is this home of yours?"

- You pulled out your teapot from the inventory and he didn't seem surprised.

- But he did wonder what that teapot was for.

- When you finally showed him what it was for, he definitely didn't expect a whole terrain. Much less the mansion infront of him.

- it was smaller than the one he had back home, but it was still a mansion.

- His face was full of wonder than with shock or surprise.

- "I gotta say comrade, when you said you we aking me to your house, I definitely did not expect this."

Zhongli:

"Your house you say. Well I dont have a reason to decline right?"

- To be fair, being an archon who associated with the adepti, he wasn't surprised and immediately knew the second you pulled out a teapot.

- However, the thing that surprised him most was how one of these fell into your hands.

- He cant assumed you found one on your travels. No adeptus would be so foolish as to leave something like this around for a human to find.

- Anyways, when you were both inside he immediately knew who gave it to you.

- "Ah, I see, it was madame Ping who gave thus to you."

- "How did you know?"

- "I feel a certain..... presence of hers. Also, the terrain seems to have her touch."

- He was pleased with how well decorated the place was. (Assuming you didn't fill the place with pine folding screens)

- (He was considering getting one too because he's probably too broke to get a place of his own)

- (But lets leave it to the imagination and hope he's living with Childe in the meantime)

Bennett:

"Oh, you have a house? Gotta say, since you were a traveler, I didnt actually expect you to have a place to stay. Sure I'll visit your house!"

- You dug through your inventory and presented him a teapot

- "Woah whats that? An artifact?" / "Nope, this is where I live."

- Then lo and behold your very own world!

- His eyes were ✨sparkling✨

- Probably have the best reaction out of everyone.

- "Wooaahhhh!!!! Traveler..... you live here?!? I-in the teapot?!? This is a teapot!?!"

- The boy was so excited, running around the place and exploring the whole place!

- He almost didn't even notice the giant mansion that was actually the place where you stayed.

- When you let him inside he was even more excited.

- He asked if he could stay the night before he was even aware he said it.

- And you let him, even gave the guy an extra room.

- "I gotta say traveler, you really are lucky to have a home right in your bag! And I'm lucky to be invited here. Thanks so much!"

- such a sweet boi

Xiao

"Perhaps I can spare some time. Alright, I'll come for a visit."

- Well he was alot easier to convince than you thought

- Actually no you had to find him all over liyue and whenever you did find him, he'd be too busy.

- This is like, the 6th time you asked him

- "Where is it? Is it somewhere within Liyue?"

- You got your teapot and he was confused for a second but immediately knew what it was later.

- before he could say anything you were both inside.

- He was more or less the same as Zhongli. Being an adeptus himself, he had an idea on what was going on, but was surprised you had access to this kind of adeptal magic.

- So sadly, he didn't have the best reaction except for: "Huh, I didn't know you had access to an adeptal world like this. Much less make it your home."

- "Do you like it Xiao?" / "Well ...I suppose it is quite peaceful here."

Kazuha

"An invitation to the home of the traveler who saved Inazuma? Well, it's not like the wind tells me not to."

- He had to ask permission from Beidou first before leaving. She didn't mind.

- "So traveler, where's this humble home of yours?"

- While still on Beidou's ship (cuz thats where he was), you took out your teapot, and he looked quiet puzzled.

- "Fogive me but, is there something you need with this teapot?"

- You let him in (the crew on the ship didn't even notice)

- He was amazed yes. His face looked like he was watching a firework show.

- It was night time in your teapot so the stars were out.

- "Amazing, a whole entire world, all to yourself, inside a simple trinket that a person could turn a blind eye on if it were at a flea market.

And to think suck a world could fit inside a bag, and in the palm of our hands. Traveler, you have always been one to be full of surprises."

- Aw god his poetic speech is just 👌👌👌 (and I'm putting in more)

- he closed his eyes and inhaled the air, listening for the slightest gust of wind. (Yes there is wind the the teapot I think, I do see the grass blowing)

- "It's quiet here, so peaceful. It feels like it's completely safe here. I could find the nearest rock and doze off right now. It's beautiful here traveler. Do you mind if I stay here, just a little longer."

- Boi you can live here for the rest of your life more rent free than Mona if you'd like!

Albedo

"Huh, I never thought a traveler would have the need for place to settle in and sit still for a period of time. But sure, I'd like to see your house. I'm not too busy at the moment"

- You were in his research place right in dragonspine when you asked him.

- He began to clean up his things and getting ready to go, but then you told him that wasn't necessary.

- "Hm? Aren't we leaving?"

- You brought out your teapot, and he looked at it like it you were holding a baby bird.

- "strange, why would we need a teapot traveler?"

- without any further explination you grinned and then you brought him in.

- He was in awe.

- his eyes widened slightly while his mouth fell ajar. But other than that, he was quiet.

- "Amazing, traveler, may I be so bold to ask on what sort of alchemy you used to create this? Or maybe, this isn't alchemy at all....."

- He was more curious about every explination there is to be made than the actual place you two were at.

[ragwitch]

First of all, you are amazing for doing this!

It didn’t make it up to M but I filled it up with cute for you. You are great

20. ‘I don’t think ghosts are supposed to feel solid.’

Pairing: Darcy/Bucky

Rating: T to M (for language)

‘Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think haunted house attendees are supposed to touch the ghosts.’ Wintershock for sachertortes

Darcy paused in the doorway of the next room and a man, or a robot, or a man-bot staggered up from some kind electric rigged chair that had red lights blinking and an ominous buzzing emanating from it. His left arm was built up with what looked like some modified armor from last spring’s Camelot and he was dressed in straps of black leather over his chest and dark cargo pants with combat boots.

“Uhhhhhhhhnnnnn,” he groaned around a black mouth guard. There was white stage make up applied liberally over every inch of bare skin aside from around his eyes, which were smeared with black.

“Not now ghost-bot,” Darcy said, trying to suppress the tremor in her voice. He was pretty scary, to be fair. She just really wasn’t in the mood.

“Uhhhhhhhhmmm.” The groan faded away thoughtfully and a pale hand reached up to grab the mouth guard as he spit it out. “Are you okay, Darcy?”

She stopped herself mid-stride and looked back in at the science experiment gone wrong…ghost-bot.

“Bucky?” she asked.

The metal arm creaked as he waved sheepishly back at her.

Huh. Bucky Barnes, a friend of a friend of a friend, who tended to sit on the opposite side of the house parties she attended but occasionally smiled at her from across the room as if to say ‘this isn’t really my scene either.’ Bucky Barnes with the man bun that seemed less provocative and more like the product of laziness or having grown up with too many sisters. Bucky Barnes, her campus crush, knew her name.

“Umm,” she stepped into the room and winced as a set of televisions to the right of her flared up with static and little green numbers running across black screens. “Have you seen Jane? I got separated from my group by Brock Rumlow.”

The campus theater department had rented out an old medical office building for this year’s haunted house fundraiser. And Jane, who was dating recent theatrical recruit Thor (who was friends with Steve on the football team (who was Bucky’s longstanding roommate)) had begged Darcy to come with her to see her boyfriend as the blood-crazed Viking (trapped in an office building, Darcy wondered) and then proceeded to show up to the event with another five of her science department friends. Leaving Darcy as an entirely unnecessary wheel for the night.

Bucky’s face darkened at the mention of Rumlow and while the expression might not have amounted to much on his normally gentle face, as a ghost-bot it really sold as intimidating.

“She hasn’t made it here, but there’s about a million ways to go through the maze so,” Bucky shrugged and then grimaced as the armor pinched at his armpit. “You want me to walk you through and we can find her?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Darcy said, faster than she really meant to. She wondered if it would be alright if she just sat the rest of the night out in here with him. She could be the ghost-bot’s victim or something.

“No, seriously, there’s a bunch of back ways through,” he said. “Lemme just lock up here.”

He passed her, smelling chalky from the make up and minty from…well, she’d once snagged a warm arm chair that he’d vacated for beer pong and she was pretty sure the mint was just him. He held out his metal hand and Darcy looked down at it and then back up at him. He started to pull away so she wrapped her fingers around three of the metal digits and pale lips smiled back at her.

“Need my real hand for door handles,” he said.

She almost answered that she didn’t really need to hold his hand, metal or not, but that seemed like a dumb thing to say. So instead she just followed him into a staged science lab leading off from his cubicle, where a two-headed scientist cackled over steaming test tubes.

“Hey FitzSimmons,” Bucky said.

“Hey,” they answered brightly.

“That is not far off from reality,” Darcy murmured and watched Bucky’s cheek grin from behind his shoulder.

“Here’s backstage,” Bucky whispered at the next door, holding a finger to his lips. Darcy nodded and he led her into a dark, narrow hallway lined with dim lights  and little chalk signs on every doorway that read things like ‘dentist’s office’ and ‘live dolls’ and ‘scary clowns.’

“You know, Brock shouldn’t have done that,” Bucky whispered, pausing outside of the ‘scary clown’ room.

“Yeah I kind of figured,” Darcy answered, shrugging.

The black and white make up was starting to smear around Bucky’s eyes, creasing at the corners as he smiled at her.

“I punched him in the nuts,” Darcy said and grinned as Bucky had to bury a snort behind his hand.

“Come on,” he said, turning the knob for the clowns. “We can ask Clint if he’s seen Jane.”

Even knowing it was Clint, swinging down a trapeze and cackling as he flipped in the air and landed in front of them in the doorway, it really didn’t help. Darcy screamed as a chest covered in fake blood, a mouth full of rotten looking teeth, and wild eyes loomed up close to her.

“Hey, man! Stage door, stage door,” Bucky snapped, stepping between them. Darcy wasn’t even embarrassed at the way she grabbed onto the leather at Bucky’s shoulders.

“Dude,” Clint groaned falling back, exaggerated frown melding with the red one painted over his face. “I’m so bored. No one wants to come see a scary clown.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Darcy muttered.

“Have you seen Jane? Rumlow split Darcy off from her group.”

“Low Blow Rumlow?” Clint scoffed. “What a dick. No, I haven’t but I heard some Jane like snorts from next door at the Mad Viking’s booth.”

“Thor, of course,” Darcy said.

“Cool, thanks. No more jump scares on fellow employees.”

“Pretty sure there’s a rule against holding hands with the attendants too, Buck.”

Bucky turned quickly, pushing Darcy back into the hall and shutting the door behind them. Darcy’s hands- which were not shaking, thank you very much, you were totally imagining that -were still digging into the straps of Bucky’s vest. She hadn’t really moved much when Bucky shut the door on Clint and they were pressed together in the hall, her head tilted back to look up into Bucky’s face.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah…yeah. I don’t think ghosts are supposed to feel solid.”

One of Bucky’s hands, the not metal one, appeared at her back, soothing at her spine and rucking up her t-shirt. “Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think haunted house attendees are supposed to touch the ghosts.”

“Huh,” Darcy said.

Bucky’s hand on her back pulled her closer, forcing her feet to shift around his to fit him against her hips. She swallowed, possibly audibly, and noted that this already felt better than anything she’d tried with Ian last spring.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“I am. You asked that,” she said, grinning.

He grinned back, the pink of his smile standing out against the white make up. “That’s right. Meant to do it after I did this,” he said. And then his hand skimmed up her back to cup her neck as he bent down and kissed her.

He tasted chalky like the make up but it didn’t stop her from rising up on her toes to wrap her arms over his shoulders and chase his lips. There was a metal arm digging into her back and she didn’t mind that either because of the way it felt when their hips dragged against each other.

“Still good,” Darcy said, when he pulled away.

“Same, same,” he said, sounding a little ragged. “You opposed to giving me your phone number? For further kissing reasons? Dates too. Lots of dates. Been trying to date you for almost a year.”

“Well you’re clearly learning the technique now,” Darcy said, and her smile almost hurt for how wide it was. She pulled her phone out and made herself a long desired contact for Bucky Barnes and sent him her number.

“You busy later?” he asked, squeezing her hand with his own. This time not the metal one. They’d worked out that she would open the next door.

“I am free unless this ghost-bot texts me to make plans,” Darcy said.

“Good, good. Here’s your stop, you know what to do.”

Darcy did know what to do. She drew Bucky down by his hair for one more nibbling kiss that had him groaning. And then she threw open the door to the Mad Viking’s booth.

“BOO MOTHERFUCKERS,” she shouted, slamming the door shut behind her.

She could just make out the sound of Bucky’s laughter under the sudden bellow of Thor’s surprise. Jane, as it turned out, had moved on again, but Darcy did manage to scare the crap out of some freshman.

“Why are you covered in stage make up?” Jane asked, blinking at her as Darcy finally made it to the exit and found Jane and her science crew waiting for her. “Did you make out with a ghost?”

“I did, yeah,” Darcy said. She pulled out her phone to show Jane the text invitation from Bucky to meet him and the others at the local 24-hour diner after midnight, and then to loiter and have breakfast there, and then to take a nap at his and Steve’s place and eat toaster waffle sandwiches for lunch, and then to go get dinner together after either another nap, some making out, a Netflix movie or any combination of the above.

“Oh my god,” Jane murmured at the screen. “He has no chill and it’s so cute.”

It was so cute.

Jane took the science bros back to campus and then she and Darcy drove out to the diner. Inside, taking up seventy-five percent of the tables and booths, was the entire cast of the haunted house—in various states of uncostumed—and all their extended company. Thor was sitting with FitzSimmons and had a spot reserved for Jane. Bucky was spread out across an entire bench of a booth, Natasha and Steve on the other side, Sam Wilson sitting backwards on a chair at the end. When he saw her, he jumped up and all the water glasses on the table rattled.  Sam hid his face behind his hands, laughing.

“You made it,” Bucky said, sinking back into the booth and stretch his arm across the back.

Darcy took the invitation and leaned into his side. “Yeah…but I’ve got like three more dates lined up after this.” Bucky grinned back at her.

“Did you know you’ve got white handprints on your back?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

[theliterateape]

American Shithole #18 — Moving and the Traveling Salesman

By Eric Wilson

I’d love to spare some time this week for Trump’s on-again, off-again (just kiss him already!) love affair with Li’l Kim, or the 1,475 missing migrant children or Rosanne's cancellation, but I’ve been distracted by my own triumvirate — a difficult household move, an incompetent painting crew, and a door-to-door salesman whose life must’ve depended on selling just one more security package.

Up until my forties I don’t think I ever paid for movers — at least not in the traditional sense of hiring professionals — I never felt I could afford it; probably because I couldn’t. For many Americans, moving day involves friends and family with trucks, to whom you provide pizza, beer, and your undying fucking gratitude.

Moving meant cuts, scrapes, bruises and broken toes.

Moving meant squeezing every square inch out of every available vehicle, all while scratching, denting and breaking as little of what you and your friends own as possible.

Moving meant telling your friends that you were renting a third-story walk-up after they've already shown up.

This time though, things were going to be different. We were moving into a beautiful new house, in a beautiful neighborhood, with the help of professionals who were going to make the transition so much easier for us — and they did, mostly.

In fact, they were so great — the movers, I mean — we had them come back and help us again, five days later. We had to, seeing as someone hired the world’s worst painting crew in America. Superlatives are usually ill-advised, but fuck me if these guys didn’t suck the worst kind of donkey balls as professional painters.

Yes, there is a worst kind.

I should have known when the owner of the company showed up in a “Team Jesus” t-shirt, with his wife and son as his only crew, that things were not going to go as planned.

Perhaps someone should have told “TJ” and his brood of holy rollers to roll it on back down the driveway, but you see, the new house had popcorn ceilings, and the popcorn ceilings had to go. Besides, at that point, there was precious little time for improvisation.

Unfortunately, “TJ” and family were hired using the time-tested formula of finding the cheapest quote, which they had provided. Note to self: when dealing with home renovation, take the second cheapest quote.

And then we really fucked up.

We asked them if they could paint the walls too (since they were already going to be there, and the tarps and whatnot would already be down) and still be done by Tuesday, before the movers got there.

They lied to us, and said “yes.”

Fucking sinners.

I don’t care how much thought you put into it, how well you organize, or how much money you throw at the problem — moving is a giant pain in the ass, and it always will be.

Changing plans mere days beforehand was just begging for disaster. Our mistake was a monkey wrench that brought the gears of our well-oiled moving machine to a grinding halt.

Come Tuesday, nothing had been painted and the house was still covered in popcorn ceiling dust from nook to cranny. Apparently their cleaning crew had no-called and no-showed, and Team Jesus didn’t have a backup plan (like get junior Jesus to do it?), so they just left it as it was.  

The upstairs was completely unavailable, so all of our belongings had to be moved into the living rooms and the garage. Everything we owned was floor to ceiling in these three areas, without a single room in livable condition.

Come Thursday — after we were forced to stay elsewhere for two days — the house was still a disaster, and they had just packed up all their gear and left. As if the homeowners were going to clean the place from top to bottom, and then somehow magically lug a thousand pounds of beds and dressers up a flight of stairs.

I threw my back out leaning over for a pencil last week.

So, a second crew had to be expedited (from the same movers) to come back Saturday (on the busiest moving weekend of the year, Memorial Day Weekend) to get the heavy stuff upstairs — all of this with less than 24 hours before one of us (not me, thankfully) had to leave for Europe.

I mentioned to my partner in crime at some point, that a lifetime of last-second packing — for which I have relentlessly chided her — might actually pay off this weekend. It was 10 o'clock Saturday evening, and we hadn't even located the box that contained all of her underwear, and yet, she still managed to pack her bags like a champion by midnight, for an international flight leaving the following Sunday morning.

So, needless to say, I was a tad bit miffed when the doorbell rang Friday at the crack of dawn, as it was already a race against time to get the household in some sort of functioning order before she left, and we really needed a decent night's rest. We had probably only slept for four hours.

Friday Morning

(ding dong)

I awoke to the sounds of the new doorbell in the new house, and made my way down the new stairs to the new front door, stubbing my toe and cursing every hobbled step of the way. Remember, I had already spent half a week — a very difficult half a week — dealing with the fallout from a last minute painting change before the move, which had thrown the entire meticulously-planned effort into chaos.

I had cracked the door open ever-so-slightly in an effort to keep the dogs from escaping, and from allowing too much blinding morning light from pouring in, only to discover a tall, smartly-dressed gentleman with a clipboard and a box, smiling at me.

“Yes?” I asked, impatiently. 

“Hello, I noticed you had just moved into the neighborhood, and we are offering a special deal on home security, just for you!” he said.

My struggle to keep the dogs from escaping continued with my face and body stuffed between the door and the jamb.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He mentioned who he was, and what company he worked for, and he welcomed me to the neighborhood with all the pleasantries of a politician. What I heard was “I represent the Shady Security Company, and we like to send representatives like me to your door at the crack of dawn, the first day after you’ve moved in — and yes, we suck the worst kind of donkey balls.”

The best I could muster was a disinterested, “Uh-huh.”

“We’d like to offer you a free door camera,” he continued, “Would it be alright if I installed the free door camera for you now?”

He literally took the camera out of the box and started looking for the best location.

“As you can see, we haven’t even settled in yet,” I said, as I feebly gestured to the stacks of boxes behind me.

“Could you come back Monday, perhaps?” I asked, hoping to defer the inconvenience until a later date.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to just sign up for this now, this is an amazing offer, just for you. Let me show you some numbers.”

“Um, no. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

Speaking of which, I would later discover I failed to indicate on my master list of where all things be, which of the 11 kitchen boxes contained the coffee; so I will leave it to you, dear reader, to guess how many boxes I opened before I found the coffee.

No guessing necessary really, it was the 11th box that contained the coffee.

We haggled a bit, the salesman and I, regarding which day would be better for him to return. He had thought that the very next day would be best, while I preferred something closer to never. We compromised and settled on Memorial Day — which I figured he would later realize was indeed a holiday, one that would service him better if he were doing literally anything other than spending it with me.

“Well, all right then, I’ll be back on Monday morning!”

As I closed the door, I remember thinking to myself, “How the hell did he know we were here?”

Then it hit me — home sales are public record. This will not be the last of this. This guy is the vanguard of the new door-to-door sales force. I thought this terribly outdated sales technique had died decades ago, but instead, they just focus on homeowners now.

No wonder I hadn’t encountered any of their species in years. I’d been renting.

I remember a time when as a nation we didn’t seem to mind people just showing up at our door. We politely listened to encyclopedia salesman as if they held the secrets of the entire world in their suitcases. We would look forward to Girl Scout cookies, or maybe just the neighbors dropping by to sell some Tupperware. Ding dong, its Avon calling! We didn’t even mind during election seasons if campaign volunteers made their cases for their candidates on our stoops and porches.

What do I know, I was a kid. We also didn’t have the internet, and our days were spent outside hitting each other with sticks.  

Yeah, well that was then, and this is now. If you come to my fucking door in 2018, I better know you, and you better have fucking called, texted, emailed or messaged me first.

Usually, we just hide. When the doorbell would ring at the old apartment, or even at the house we rented for the last few years, we would look at each other and communicate in tactical hand signals. Don’t let them know that anyone is home — that’s the game we all play in America now.

Saturday Morning

(ding dong)

My bleary-eyed face was smooshed between the door and the jamb again, incredulous that this motherfucker came back the next day.

“Hi, again! I wante—”

“Listen up,” I interrupted, “I appreciate that you are trying to make a living — and you are obviously very aggressive about it, seeing as this isn’t the day we agreed on — but we are incredibly busy, and incredibly tired, and this is Saturday, not Monday, so… how about we give you a call if we decide we need your services?”

“There’s no time like the present to secure your new home!”

“Yes there is, and it will be the time of my choosing.”

Sensing my dismissal, his mood changed.

“Well I wish you would have told me that instead of me wasting my time coming over here,” he said, rather curtly.

I paused to consider my options. Did that motherfucker just diss me, on my doorstep, because I dared to be dismissive of his overly-aggressive, hopelessly outdated sales technique?

Now this is where a sane person would say something pleasant and send the overzealous door-to-door salesperson on their way.

“Let me see your ID,” I demanded.

“What?”

“Your driver’s license, let me see it.”

“What for?”

“I’m taking down you name and address.”

“Um, what for?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, I plan on showing up to your house, unannounced and uninvited, and I’m going to sell you that couch behind me.”

The tall, well-dressed man peered over my shoulder.

“But… I don’t need a couch.”

“Well, you haven’t heard me sing its praises yet. I figure I could come over — at the time of my choosing — and tell you all about it. That’s fine with you, right? What time do you like to take your morning dump? That’s when I would like to show up. Is it OK if I bring a free pillow from the couch, as an incentive?”

“But… I don’t want you to come to my house.”

“Of course you don’t," I replied, "It’s the 21st century, not 1975. No one wants people to just show up at their door anymore. Look, I don’t even like it when my fucking friends show up at my door unannounced — wait, are we friends?”

“Well, no, but I’d like to be!” he said, as his eyes lit up at the prospect.

“Good, because I’ve got boxes and boxes of useless shit I need to move around for a week because the painters lied to me, so how about you help me do that — I’ll provide the beer and pizza, and then you can try to sell me your finest security package? I super-secret besties promise to listen to every word.”

“Well, I don’t think that…”

“Besties help each other, right? Besides, you need to get a feel for how heavy your new couch is going to be.”

As he turned to leave, I realized I probably didn’t want to put on any more of a show for the new neighbors than I already had — perhaps it was best that playtime was over.

The movers arrived later that morning along with their owner in tow, Chris. They listened to my game plan, knocked it out like champs, and then they were off to three other jobs they had to deliver on before sunset. Damn fine work, with a crew of professionals that knew exactly what they were doing.

Maybe I'm just hopelessly old-school in thinking that giving someone your word that you can get something done, actually still means something. I am definitely not old-school when it comes to traveling salesmen — for fook's sake, we need to finally be rid of that shit. 

Saturday afternoon, the new Ring app and doorbell had been installed — one had already been purchased before the move — along with our brand new “no soliciting” sign.

If you haven’t checked out Ring, you might like it. It’s a doorbell, with a tiny camera, speaker, and mic that you can access from your phone. It also alerts you to any motion at your front entrance — which is great, because now I can heckle door-to-door salesman via my iPhone from anywhere in the world.

Author's Note: The heckling has already commenced. I successfully heckled another security salesman with Ring on Wednesday afternoon.

B.S. Report

I joked several months ago that we would need a school shooting every day before the NRA would release their stranglehold on congress, allowing for sensible gun laws to be legislated. I worry the joke is on us. We just may find out if that’s true, or if even then, they will do nothing. This year we are suffering through 1.1 school shootings per week, and even with fresh wind in our sails and mounting evidence that the NRA funneled Russian money to aid the Trump campaign — we still get no substantive change.

We may have witnessed a moment of humanity from Sarah Huckabee Sanders on Wednesday — she was visibly shaken — as she attempted to respond to a young boy's concerns about school shootings in America. She managed to tremble her way through a few lies, which I suppose is progress.

The free world watches us in horror. 4LWjr.