There is a young man. He is neatly dressed in black pants and polished back dress shoes. He also wears a stiff white shirt with long sleeves and a black tie. In his hands, he holds some papers and a book, I can’t make out what book it is from 20 feet away but it looks impressive. Another, slightly older young man, clothed the same way and holding the same items in his hands, accompanies him.
They just arrived at my front door and are now pressing the door bell. I watched them approach and I’m considering if I should ignore them. Then they knock, like they really need to talk to me, must be important.
So I throw on a t-shirt to complement my shorts and I feel completely underdressed but clothes never intimidated me, so I open the door to find out what these two nice young men want to talk about.
So I listen to their story, that I need to be saved and that the end is near and I realize these guys are trying to sell me one of the most dangerous and evil invention ever created by the human race: terrorism. How many millions of people have died in the past, in the name of this commodity, these innocent looking gentlemen are selling? Some people might call this “religion”, but to me, that’s just another word for “terrorism” and “war”.
Do I think that the two gentlemen are even aware of what they are doing? I think not, since they make it out to be so glorious. There is nothing glorious about getting your limbs chopped off just because your god tells you something different to what the other guys god told him or because during a momentary lapse of concentration to dropped his holy book on the floor by mistake.
So the two guys tell me all about my salvation and that I want to be one of the chosen ones and so on and I’m asking myself why I ever opened that door. Maybe I should tell these guys that I think they are terrorists in the making and see how they react. They probably have a good answer for that, too, since they seem to have an answer for everything else. Nothing that could stand up to any amount of scientific scrutiny, of course, but an answer, nevertheless.
And then, something mundane happened: my phone rang and I had a good excuse to tell my good byes and they left, on their way to recruit the next victim. God I hate terrorists and the religious types are the worst.