The Curse of the Jehovah’s Witness’


Alright, first legit post, here we go.

Let’s get this straight, I’m not a man of many words; in another man’s eyes, I’m a coward.  Nervous, silent, shy.  Those were the main names tossed at me, but in this case, I did what any human would do.

My room is directly up the stairs leading to the second floor of my three story house;  the dreaded “greeting room” as my mother calls it.  Trust me, it’s worse than you would think, to get to the bathroom, all you do is make a left leaving my room and then you’re there.

Back to the story.  The significance of the location of my room goes along with the sight of the Jehovah’s Witness himself.  Just gaining consciousness and stepping on to my feet, I had to urinate. So, I went to pee; in my boxers, and boxers only.  I don’t know if it was perfect timing or the man upstairs; and by the man upstairs I mean my father trying out his new exercise equipment and stereo.  Not knowing he was there, the JW watches me walk to the bathroom.  And yes, it gets worse, much much worse.  What I’m trying to say is, what male, young adult do you know that closes the bathroom door nowadays? I sure don’t, especially at 9:30 in the morning.  And well, this is where the ‘fun’ begins.  With my clothes at my feet and my hand on my, yeah, we made eye contact.  Still being in the ‘sleepy stage’ it took a few minutes for it all to hit me; a middle aged man was staring at me with my junk out.  I quickly ran into my brothers room, put on his clothes and confronted my visitor.  I had two things to say, first was “no, I do not want to attend your church” and secondly I said “yes, it is big.” (obviously referring to my house)

I warn my parents everyday before I go to bed, “do not open the door in the morning.”  That is the last time a Jehovah’s Witness has ever showed up to my door; I think the story spread.


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