All Sorts of Crazy

So, something moderately creepy happened last week. Or maybe I’m just a little paranoid. I do live in California, after all. There is a lot of craziness going on here.

I was pumping gas early in the morning last week at my local gas station. I had both the kids in the car with me, as I was on my way to take them to daycare and school. I got back in the car while the gas was pumping, so the kids wouldn’t be left alone.

So, Bug and I were chatting, and an old man came up to my window. Not really old, probably older than my dad, younger than my grandfather. Well dressed, not a bum. The man held up a pamphlet and said, “Care to do a little reading throughout your day?” It was one of those Here-is-God’s-Plan books that the Jehovah Witness people put on your doorstep.

Well, since I think I’m so cool and Biblical now (reading the Bible in 90 days-- finished Genesis and Exodus now, on to Leviticus!), and I was feeling very nice, and I was alone at a gas station with my two kids and I didn’t want any trouble, I took the guy’s pamphlet. I said thank you, he walked away, towards what I assumed was his car. I put the leaflet on my passenger seat, finished pumping my gas, and then drove to the McDonald’s drive thru next door, as I had promised Bug we would do. While I was waiting in the drive thru, I thumbed through the little book.

What the????

I couldn’t read any of the words.

It wasn’t in English. Or Spanish, or German, or French, or Arabic, or Japanese. They were English letters, but they were not strung together into any sort of recognizable pattern.

“I can’t even read this thing,” I muttered under my breath.

Meanwhile, Bug was freaking out. “Mommy, who was that man? What did he give you?”

“Just a book, Baby.”

“Throw it away, Mommy.”

“Well, I can’t just throw it away right here. There’s no garbage can. I’ll throw it away when I can.”

“Just open the door and throw it on the ground.” She was really getting worked up over this book. Why was she so crazed over it?

“Honey, I can’t just throw it on the ground. The man who gave it to us might get his feelings hurt. I’ll throw it away at the window when we get our food.” And then I happened to look in my rear view mirror.

Oh, no.

Dude, the guy was RIGHT THERE. In the car behind me, watching everything I did. Oh Lord, what if he was crazy? What if he’s following us, and when he sees that I can’t read the words, he says something crazy like “You are clearly not one of God’s chosen, so now I must throw you and your children in a well.”

I couldn’t throw away the pamphlet with that guy watching.

I purchased Bug’s egg mcmuffin and tore out of there. I was freaked that the crazy religious nut was going to follow me to BK’s daycare. Thank goodness it was super foggy that day, so I knew after two turns he wouldn’t be able to find me (paranoia, anyone?).

Bug was oblivious to the speed chase in my head, but was still complaining about how I hadn’t thrown away the book. “Why didn’t you throw it away, Mommy? You said you were going to throw it away.” Ugh. I get it, Bug. You’re a prophet. I need to throw the devil’s book away. Working on it.

In case you were wondering, I did throw it away. There’s a garbage can outside my office. In it lies 2 soda cans and a McDonald's bag with a crazy no-language pamphlet in it.

I told my girlfriend about my morning adventure, and she wanted to pull the book out from the trash so she could see it. “Maybe you just didn’t recognize the language, maybe it’s in Swedish or Portuguese or something.”

“Look at me,” I answered. “Do I look like I speak Portuguese? No, he gave me the book knowing I wouldn’t be able to read it. But here’s another thing… what if we pull it out of the garbage, and you can read what it says? I don’t want to know that you can read the devil’s words.”

“Oh, Lovely,” my girlfriend sighed. “You really are crazy.”