Some years ago, I answered my door and found a strange couple dressed in black.
“We’re here to do you a favor,” the man said. A young woman stood behind him, nodding her approval at my good fortune. “I’m Nathan and this is Sarah. Have you read the Good Book today?”
“Why, no,” I said. “Not today. It’s only eight-thirty Sunday morning—”
“We’re so sorry to bother you, but this is too important to leave for later.”
Are you really sorry, Brother Jagoff?
The upshot was that he wanted to discuss my personal religious habits, my church regimen, how often I prayed—simple things like that.
“Please, come in,” I said.