I invited a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses in today for a cuppa to whet their parched whistles.. It looked like they’d already done a lot of walking and I was willing to bet that I’d be among a very tiny minority of good samaritans to offer assistance throughout the course of their day..
As predicted by some on here, they were returning to impart more of their knowledge, after I spared some time to listen to them a week or two ago..
As we drank tea, and debated from our differing standpoints, my 3 year old son cavorted around in the altogether, trying to attract attention by blowing streams of delicate soap bubbles at them, and at one point he dived on the sofa and accidentally rubbed his willy on their bible! (this caused Margaret some distress, but she cheerfully played it down)
Anyway.. a dear old couple, they were telling me about Paul’s letters and how Satan was cast out, when I was suddenly overcome by an incredibly powerful and profound religious experience.. For a fleeting moment, I KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was Satan, and was probably an important part of the ‘the plan’, and I felt an almost overwhelming desire to tell my guests..
I decided against sharing this revelation with Alan and Margaret though, as I didn’t want Alan to smite me in front of the children..
