Can we all leave ya a picture of Jesus?

I’ve been catching up on Breaking Bad. A whole lot of people are getting shot, beaten up, run over and disposed of in tubs of acid.

Sitting alone in the house (just after a particularly violent shoot everyone scene) there’s a knock at the door.

It’s a quarter to nine. It’s dark outside.  I’m not expecting anyone. Someone’s head is bleeding on the TV. I nervously open the door, phone fingers poised to dial 911.

There are 3 guys. In suits.

Mafia?

“We’d like to talk to you about Jesus.”

Oh thank fuck I’m not going to die horribly.

“No thanks.”

They ask about my t shirt. It’s from the Big Bang Theory. I’m about to close the door.

“Can we all leave ya a picture of Jesus?”