I keep telling you i'm socially inept.

Wednesday, 27 March 2013

It's pitch black outside and it's the witching hour, you know that time after tea yet before bath when your little darlings turn inexplicably bat shit crazy,  If they were kittens they'd be climbing the curtains, when you heard a loud pronounced knock at your front door.  You're hermits, generally it's either the postman (too late) or Jehovas Witnesses (again, usually not at night) who darken you doorstep.

Two strange things proceeded, firstly I answered the door as opposed to panicking that humans may be outside on my doorstep and squeaking for The Husband to answer it and secondly I actually opened the door when usually we just open the lounge window which is right next to it and opens right out.  

I was greeted by two young men, and I use the term loosely as they appeared on that awkward cusp between boy and man, suited and booted.  I opened the door just enough, angling my body defensively and glowered, there's no pretense it's mere instinctual I could see them recoil slightly from my baleful expression as I arched my eyebrows questioning their existence both general and specific to being on my doorstep.  The taller of the two who looked like he had some giant fist lodged up his bottom puppeting him, smiled broadly, too broadly.  It was the nervous yet rehearsed smile of someone on the make.  To be frank it was fake, and rather made him look like a Muppet.  With over exaggerated gestures he mock stepped back with an overtly friendly 'woah! don't worry we're not preaching! you looked like you were about to come out and hit us for a minute' I continued to glower, unpacified and peversly unwilling to cut him from the hook he was dangling from. He tried to crack a joke about sensing evil, I didn't laugh. His companion remained nervously quiet whilst he then launched into his spiel 'Have you heard of the PDSA?' keeping faithful to his overly familiar nauseating act. 'Yes.' Well I may be awkward to deal with but I'm certainly not rude, he asked a question so I gave him an answer yet nothing could have prepared me for the, excuse me whilst I vomit a little in my mouth, high five.  Yes, high five.  He actually high fived me.  What to do to that?  Laugh? Cast a die now please spell on him?

He continues to drivel on and asks me if I have pets to which I replied 'yes a cat and until recently a dog.  It died.' He's working double time now to keep up his enthusiastic demeanor.  Blah blah blah blathering on about what they do etc and have we used them to which I honestly replied we would have but we don't drive and our dog was dying so couldn't possibly get all the way to where they are. His feet shuffled as he momentarily lost his momentum before picking up where he left off and tried to disarm me with a joke  'we trying to raise money and looking for help doing a naked calender!' His grin was making my teeth hurt it was that saccharine 'Good luck with that' Oh the panic in his eyes as I looked to be closing the door recovering his demeanor with a quick 'ha! that's what next door said, seriously that was just a joke ' Oh really?  I hadn't guessed. It's not that I try to be dead pan it just happens 'Good for you, trust me, you really wouldn't want people round here on a naked calender' In the midst of this another high five.  Must bleach my hand.

Trying to relate to me on a personal level he asks for my name.  'Not sure, haven't chosen one yet today' They're uncomfortable and trying desperately not to let it show, good, I'm uncomfortable having random mortals bother my door.  He speaks! His companion rather awkwardly comments 'erm, that was a weird answer!' to which I blankly respond 'Nearly as weird as two males, half my age, suited and booted and knocking on my door asking my name in the dark' They try and nervously make a joke of it and try and get my name again having preciously name dropped my neighbours first name earlier on the conversation, I think i'm supposed to feel charmed by them.  I'm not. They ask again, I reiterate my previous reply and then feeling a little sorry tell them they can call me Mrs S*****.  Obviously not accustomed to formality.  Finally they pick up on the age part of my line and ask how old I think they are 'you're around 19 and your friend (mute boy) is nearer 22' they look somewhat stunned, I've obviously hit the proverbial nail close to it's head. Changing tact they profess there is no way i'm double their age. I stare, hard, at them.  'You can't be in your thirties' I arch a plucked brow 'No way! I bet you get people not believing that all the time!' Flattery gets you nowhere. 'Not really.  I don't go out. Ever. It interferes with the general evil in the house if I do' referencing their earlier evil joke.  This isn't going at all how they had planned, they really should have gone to the pub instead.  I bet wholeheartedly they agree.

Then comes the money shot.  They want money.  They break it down and do the whole 'so it's only 20p a week and it's not immediately, you can't even get a drink in the pub with that,  can we count on you?' I know what comes next, modern day charities, every bugger wants your bloody bank details.  'Maybe, who knows. I don't drink'   They try asking again with an imperceptive increase in pressure aimed at my conscience. 'Maybe' If they ask again it will be a straight out no.  Finally they accept defeat, that Muppet grin still there he pumps my hand fervently exchanging the relevant pleasantry that it was nice to meet me.

I can finally close the door, ushering The Spawn back in who'd come to gawp and interject at random points in the exchange. I can finally breath.  Needless to say I won't be answering the door again in a hurry.  I have a natural inability to act normal.


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