A local church has decided it's a good idea to send their families into the surrounding neighborhoods to "invite" people to come to their church. They do this on Saturday afternoons, trying to get people to go to their church the next morning. The families dress up like they're going to a nice party - the men and boys in Dockers with nice shirts and polished shoes, the women in long skirts or dresses, the girls in summer dresses, etc. They've bothered me for the past few Saturdays, ignoring the big "NO SOLICITING" sign next to our front door.

This past Saturday I decided to trim Diablos's nails. Me and Lanta don't cut our rabbits nails often because it's hard work and they hate it. They would rather be hit with a fucking bullwhip than have their nails trimmed. I don't know why...that's just how they are. They are both fairly large rabbits about 8-10 pounds. It's Diablo's turn and I start out,  as I always do, with trying to lure him with treats to get him to behave. I put a treat on the bathroom floor, then  carry him into the bathroom. So far so good. I tell him to sit still and give him another treat. Now comes the fun part. I nestle Diablo between my legs and we play the grab the paw game. Diablo is calm and is sitting still. I grab his paw and lift it up to trim the nails. Diablo tries to pull his paw away. I pull his paw towards me back into position. Start over. The problem is that the damn rabbit has an unlimited amount of time to play this game and I've got shit to do. The offer of treats does jack...Diablo is smart enough to know that if he complies his nails will be cut, which amounts to torture for some reason. After 20 minutes of this, it's time for plan B.

Plan B involves pinning the rabbit down in various positions that allow me to grab hold of each paw with one hand and trim the nails with the other. Unfortunately this has 2 major drawbacks. One is that he can still move his back legs enough to cause me to trim the nails either too short or not short enough. The other is that the freshly trimmed nails are very sharp, which gives him a weapon to use against me as the process continues. After some time  Diablo's nails are finally cut. They are a bit uneven, but at this point I don't give a fuck. Several nails have been cut too short, so during this war my white t-shirt has become splattered with blood. My arms and legs are scratched up like I've just been in a fight with a wild cat, I'm covered in black fur, and I'm sweating like hell. Diablo is fine and can now hop around properly. I've had enough of him for the day, so I pick him up and put him in his cage. Just as I'm about to put him in, the doorbell rings, which causes him to get startled and squirm about in my arms, giving me a few extra scratches and forcing me to drop him.

I walk back to the bathroom to start cleaning up, and the doorbell rings again. Diablo sniffs at the door and starts hopping around like mad. At first I thought it was my mother-in-law stopping by, but then I realised that she and my father-in-law were on vacation, so it couldn't have been her. Having already had enough of whoever was at the door, I decide to ignore it. The doorbell rings again. Still out of breath from the fight, sweating, covered in scratches, blood and fur, and carrying nail clippers in one hand, I fling open the door. The picture-perfect family has decided to let the little girl do the talking. She looked  to be about 5 years old. She's standing right in front of me, while her parents and older brother (about 7 years old) were standing a few feet behind her. I look directly at the little girl, and say, "Yes?"

The boy isn't paying much attention, he found a stick outside and is playing with it, but the other 3 family members are frozen in shock. The mom finally pulls the boy back against her leg, but they're too far from their daughter to reach her without stepping closer themselves. The girl is unable to move. The dad looks like he has just seen a ghost. The mom finally taps him on the arm and he tries to say something. I continue to stare at the little girl and say "Yeah, what is it?" The boy finally looks up and sees me. He starts with a low moaning noise and slowly works up to a scream. He runs behind his mom and grabs onto her leg so she can't move. The dad finally manages to speak and says, "Mm-mm-maybe this is a bad time, uh, Sarah,  come on sweetheart, let's go." Sarah just stands there stiff as a stone. Still staring at the girl, I take a step forward. Sarah finally comes to life and lets out a scream. Then another. And another. Dad, figuring he better do something, takes a cautious step forward and pulls Sarah back by the arm. She continues to stare at me and scream as he picks her up. Her older brother is screaming also, and tries to climb up his mom's back. She almost trips over him trying to turn around, she picks him up and carries him away. Dad follows with Sarah in his arms.

I closed the door, then went to the window and watched the commotion. The parents did their best to run back to their car as fast as possible. Just as they got to their car, Sarah, who is still looking at our apartment and screaming, pukes all down her dad's back. The mom tries to put the boy down, but he's clinging to her like a monkey. The dad digs his keys out of his pocket and they all get in the car. After a minute the parents get back out of the car. The mom's front is all wet. Apparently the boy pissed all over her. The dad's shirt is covered with vomit, he takes off his shirt and leaves it in the street.. The parents finally get in the car and do a buck fifty out of there. I guess they won't be bothering me anytime soon!