Justin Bieber Tried to Sell Me Magazines!

Or close to it.

The odd and laminated identification card the kid showed me read "Justin Beiber."

I'm sure he had a good laugh about it later.

I really shouldn't have answered the door. But the tree trimming guys have been running rampant through my neighborhood this week, uprooting birds and busting my fences. Thought it might've been them returning to wreak more havoc.

But, no. Some kid stood at the door, rattling his clearly rehearsed non-stop patter in a strange and slurred (crack-enhanced?) tone. He told me he was trying to earn points to go on a trip. "You know where?" he asked. "They have plenty of meatballs and a leaning tower. That's right, Italy." Didn't even give me a chance to answer his question.

Then he whips out another laminated piece of paper displaying magazine covers (does "Life" magazine still exist?).

I say, "Oh, you're selling magazines."

"No, sir, I'm selling my winning personality." Keep selling, kid.

Basically, I told him to take a hike. In an unprecedented display of boldness, he goes back to his deep pockets and plucks out plan #2: a church brochure. He claims it's another chance to win his Italy trip. Now, I don't know if it's a good idea to have two battle plans, but in the Midwest, he probably should've led with the church's backing. Still, it did seem rather unlikely two separate organizations were conspiring to ship this kid to Italy. (Look out, Italy, you've been warned!).

Either way, God wasn't smiling down on him, not at my house. I told him--again--no thanks. The kid was either stupid or bold, definitely suffering from a toxic case of "moxie." More than likely, though, he had me pegged as a patsy.

"One last thing...do you have a cold bottle of water or a glass of cold water I could have?"

I ground my teeth, giving them a tortured work-out. Stunned, I said, "No, I'm out of water." Not true, we don't run out of water in Kansas. Especially not after the torrential rains we've suffered/are suffering. I couldn't believe his gall. Clearly, his plan was to enter my house, try and find "common ground," staging a siege by complimenting my collection of dust bunnies or whatever.

The worst part of this was the kid took me for a rube. I suppose once you hit a certain age, "old people" are ripe picking. I ain't that old yet. I got pissed, remembering the stories of how con-men dupe the elderly. And now I was being profiled as one of them.

Sigh. I shoulda' unleashed the dog on Justin Beiber.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta' go help out this nice Nigerian prince I just met on-line. He's having trouble holding onto his fortune or something.