For the man at the door tells me so
Yesterday, Y Chromosome and I were sitting on my couch in our skivvies, drinking out of my cocktail recipe glass. I was showing him Cliche Kitty, which one of our friends used to have hanging in his bathroom (right over where the toilet paper would be, if ever he had some in stock), when there was a knock at my door. We tossed our clothes on, and Y Chrome opened the door.
“God loves you!” the man at the door exclaimed, thrusting a bag of religious paraphernalia into Y Chrome’s hand.
“Alright.” Y Chrome said (”Alright” being his favorite catchall word: “Thanks for coming.” “Alright.” “I just got a huge promotion!” “Alright!” “Let’s get it on!” “Alright?”), taking the goodies and closing the door as the man turned away.
“What’s this one about?” I asked, as Y Chrome stood over the garbage, flipping through a pamphlet.
“Sins of the Flesh and the Sin of the Soul.”
“Man,” I said, wriggling out of my jeans and settling back on to the couch, “They’re good.”