2001, 5th Avenue apartment in the gayborhood. Hillcrest, San Diego. 7am. Saturday morning.
We're hungover. Navy guys passed out all over the living room.
Knock knock knock at the door.
Hubster walks to answer the door; as he passes through the front room, he sees Tackett (a real piece of work, BTW) swallow the worm from a left over bottle of tequila, holding a conversation with our cat.
Hubster answers the door.
It's the Jevovah's Wintesses.
Witnesses: "Do you have a moment to talk about God?"
Hubster: "I've got a guy for you to talk to."
Hubs closes the door and walks back into the room and tells Tackett, "It's for you."
Tackett gets up from the floor, unsteadily, and weaves his way towards the front door.
Hubster wanders back to the bedroom and passes out, face first, into the mattress.
I'm reading a book, glance up to see what's going on, and listen in to the conversation at the door.
Witnesses to Tackett: "Do you have a moment to talk about God?"
Tackett: "I was just talking to the cat about that very same thing! Do you have a moment to come in?"
Witnesses, slowly backing away down the stairs: "Umm, no, that's okay. We can come back some other time."
Tackett follows them down the stairs: "Wait a minute! This cat knows SOMETHING!"
Witnesses literally start running away with fear.
Tackett walks back into the living room and tells the cat "Can you believe that? They never will breach our walls again!" And then falls on his face, passing out. Going into a loud snore.
We never did see those Jehovah's Witnesses again.