The office I work in was once a house, we have a lovely little tree out front and some large gates leading to the back. The inside is full of technology and diligent employees, while the outside looks like a rather grand old lady lives inside with several cats. The kind of house Christian missionaries frequent on their way round the godless slum of Long Eaton.
Two such people knocked on the front door one day. I opened it to them and was greeted by faces so happy and smiling that I was surprised they hadn’t exploded all over the pavement from the over-use of cocaine.
‘We’d like to ask you a few questions about Jesus,’ they said.
‘This is an office, it’s probably not the best place for this conversation,’ I said.
‘But it’s always a good place to talk about Jesus!’ they said.
I then started laughing in their faces.
They told me they’d come back later.
I had no idea why.
Though it might have been something to do with the horns that appeared out of nowhere.