Here I am cleaning the entire house.
My back and head are killing me.
I cut open my finger while cleaning the bathroom, I am wearing an interesting outfit, my hair is sticking up and I have circles under my eyes which might be mascara and might be permanent bags.
Doorbell rings as I am vacuuming the stairs.
I open the door a few inches to see a teeny tiny boy and a woman.
The teeny tiny boy is wearing a teeny tiny suit and his hair is slicked over to the side.
He is holding what appears to be a Bible.
He smiles and in his teeny tiny voice starts talking to me about shark skin.
How it is smooth if you rub it one way and rough the other.
I notice the woman is smiling and looking at him, never looking at me.
She is holding a Watchtower magazine.
I knew it.
They are crafty, they are, sending a baby to do their work.
I smile the whole time the boy is talking about sharks and quoting verses.
Then when he stops talking, I say thank you, have a nice day and shut the door.
I didn't get the symbolism of the sharks.
Or maybe I do.
Maybe they are the sharks.
And I was bitten.
By a teeny tiny boy.
I already know I am a Christian and they cannot sway me from my beliefs.
I wonder how many people slammed the door in the face of a teeny tiny shark in a teeny tiny suit today.
God loves me.
And I never pet sharks.