Yesterday some nice missionaries came by my house. I’ve never had missionaries from another faith talk to me (I know, shocking), and it was a good first experience. We talked about the Bible and Satan’s influence in the world. I could have gone on and on about my beliefs, but I respectfully listened instead and ended up politely declining their offered book about the Bible. (I hardly have enough time to read the Bible, let alone read about why I should be reading the Bible.)
They thanked me for coming to the door (which might have been a rarity in my neighborhood, though I’m sure many people were legitimately not home, despite having cars parked in their driveways) and bade me a good day.
As soon as I shut the door, I bowed my head pensively—and noticed my shirt. I bet they must have thought they hit paydirt when they read what it said: