Is it Ever Howdy Doody Time?

Courtesy of Sodahead.com

This week has been kind of strange and extremely busy. I’m helping a friend with a Christmas boutique she’s hosting in her home and I also took Noah to the orthodontist for an evaluation for braces. I can’t wait to share stories from both experiences, but in the mean time I need to tell you about something weird that happened to me last summer.

It was a weekday afternoon and I had just gone grocery shopping. It is a task I dread more than scrubbing toilets, washing the dog, and yes…even cleaning out the refrigerator. The only high point of this undertaking was that I snatched two “fresh off the truck” packages of English muffins directly from a newly delivered pallet in the bakery isle. And score! They were buy one, get one free (with a store coupon),.

Once I got home, I dragged my seven lofty bags of groceries into the house and plopped them on the counter only to be interrupted by the doorbell. Now, people who know me realize that I really don’t like answering the door. It’s usually someone either trying to sell me a cable and telephone package or plugging their church. But seizing this opportunity to abandon the grocery bags, I peeked out the front window and saw a guy who resembled Howdy Doody with glasses and a buzz cut gazing thoughtfully up at sky.

With Annie at my heels barking incessantly, I reluctantly opened up the front door thinking it may be a neighbor with whom I hadn’t yet been acquainted. When he heard the squeak of the front door, the unknown abruptly spun around and shot out his hand. “Hi. I’m Pete…grandson of Mae and Jerry over on Birch Street.”

I slowly shook his hand, nodding and said, “Oh yes…Mae and Jerry.”

What? Why did I say that? I don’t know any Mae and Jerry.

“I’m a student graduating with honors from the University,” Howdy said, “and I’m getting ready to begin my studies in London. But in order for me to do that, I have to do something.”

Silently praying to myself that this “something” wasn’t committing a heinous crime, I waited for him to explain. Seriously, what kind of crap was this guy going to try to push on me? Or do to me. Or my dog.

He glanced behind his shoulder and leaned toward me, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Will you hate me if I try to sell you something?”

“I dunno,” I said squinting out toward the trees that scatter our yard. What in the world was this secret product he was trying to sell me? Did he have a truck filled with youth serum? The cure for baldness? Extra yummy cookies? (Cookies actually sounded good. I was hungry)..

Once again Howdy leaned in toward me forcing me to take a mini step backward, “C’mon. Tell me really. Will you be angry with me?”

Okay. This guy was creepy. By this time, Annie was out sniffing at his pant leg and I was secretly hoping she’d take a bite out of his Wranglers to scare him off but she did nothing more than sniff. And wag her tail,

“I dunno,” I repeated blankly. What are you selling?

He carefully reached into his back pocket and slowly pulled out a tiny, tattered red catalog with pictures of children’s books scattered on the front. Books? What the? I wasn’t going to buy any books and it was pretty clear that since I didn’t see him dragging library shelves on wheels behind him that he wanted me to order them. You know –empty my bank account for collections of his obscure books that I would never actually receive. A scam. And I was the target. And I was mad. And maybe a little bit scared..

By this time,Annie had stepped back inside of the foyer and was busily sniffing a bug that had zig-zagged through the open door and onto the tile floor. I don’t know what possessed me, but at this point I simply screamed, “No way!” and slammed the door, turning the deadbolt until I heard the familiar loud “clack” that ensured my safety..

I could hear Howdy on the front step yelling, “But please! Wait!. …I just… [muffled words uttered that I couldn’t understand]”. .

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