door-to-door ding-a-ling

A man dropped by the house this morning offering to show me his meat. Seriously. I saw the small pickup with the refrigerated camper coming up the drive and Bones started going crazy before I could beat him to the door, standing on his hind legs dirtying the back door glass with his front paws and coughs of slobber.

I won't say outright that the man wasn't trustworthy -- how could I know from our brief interaction? -- but he had a weird kind of energy, like a salesman who does a lot more talking than listening, who seems to think that if he keeps talking you'll relent and buy whatever he has to sell.

He had a cigarette propped between a couple of stained fingers and teeth that looked like they've chomped into a steak or two and haven't seen much floss. He told me the such-and-such cut I would easily pay $60 more for if I got it online than if he brought it to me personally. When I told him I don't eat meat, that he could leave a card for the others in the household, he headed for his truck, turning back halfway, exclaiming, "I wanna show you my meat." I smiled a sort of resigned smile and said, "Since I don't eat meat I wouldn't really be interested in seeing it."

"Seafood?"
"Nope." To be honest with you, I do eat fish now and again, but I'm trying to cut it out of my diet, and this guy didn't strike me as the kind of person I wanted to buy anything from.

Maybe Bones was right.