I knew how much better his life could be before he'd even spoke - if only he'd loose the tash, cut the combover and shorten the grey hair that made ringlets over his ears. Yet I warmed to him the moment I opened our front door last Saturday morning.
He was a portly, barrel of a type-2 diabetic and firmly in his sixties. His large, childlike eyes beamed from behind his thick rimmed glasses and I was helpless to resist liking him. I wanted to tweak his rosy little plump cheeks and take him out for a night of debauchery, where we would get drunk, smoke a bit of weed and perhaps get shagged by a pair of amoral blonds.
That'd sort him out, I thought.
It came as no surprise then, when he produced The Watchtower from his little brown satchel.
"Ahh, I'm afraid I'm atheist" I told him.
"Ohh" he said, still smiling "what makes you feel this way?"
"A myriad things, really. Not least that I see no evidence for, nor have any real need for a god..."
And so we got into the same old tired debate that's written about ad-nauseum on the Atheist Blogroll. I needn't fill you in with the minutiae.
Suffice to say that his grey mac would just have to go.
It was a pleasant chat, all in all, despite his assertion that evolution was false and that it was logical not to "take of the blood". He told me about his wife, who's suffering badly from Trigeminal Neuralgia. Before he could weave this into an allegory about Jesus Christ, I gave him some advice on pain management and the side effects of carbamazepine. He seemed to appreciate this greatly, despite calling me a Satanist.
You see, if you are not 'For' Jesus then, by elimination, you must be 'For' Satan.
"Cool," I said to him, "Satanist sounds much better than Atheist. Cheers!"
Anyway, to cut a long story short, just as he was leaving, he shot a conspiratorial look behind him, leaned in close and whispered,
"I know I shouldn't be saying this, but your the nicest sata, sorry, atheist I've ever met."
We shook hands.
That's right my friends - The anti-christ will be reborn in the guise of an affable, balding thirty-something.