Lou Knocks

We were expectin’ Lou.  But Lou’s got a thing against doorbells.  So he knocks.  Maybe it’s the germs.  Most folks ring the bell; so stands to reason the knocker’s cleaner.  But maybe he doesn’t even use the knocker.  I’d bet he doesn’t.  I’d bet he bangs with his knuckles.  I don’t pay close enough attention to know the difference between knuckles and a knocker. 

What does that say about me?  Does that make me inattentive?  Perhaps it does.  Am I gonna do anythin' about it?  Probably not.  Should I do somethin’ about it?  Don’t think I need to.  But it’s somethin’ to think about.  I’ll think about it.  Would that make you happy?  Why would it?  You don’t know me.  Who are you to tell me that I’m not attentive.  Or, not attentive enough.  And what does that mean?  How do you know when you’ve given just the riiight amount of attention?  When somebody else is satisfied, that’s when.  When somebody else tells you so.  But not everybody’s gonna tell you.  So you’re fucked.  I mean, I’m the fucked one.  ‘Cause some folks just mind their own business.  But I’ll think about it.  I promise.   

Could be Lou’s afraid the doorbell’ll shock him.  It’s within reason to presume that, sometime over the course of his long life, he’s had a negative experience with a doorbell.  But couldn’t he wear a glove?  Use his elbow?  It’s somethin’ to ask.  I’ll ask him.  You don’t need to.  It’s not your job.  Anyways, Lou doesn’t really even have anything to do with why you’re here, taking my statement. 

So when I didn’t hear any knockin’, right there, with the dingin’ and the dongin’, right off the bat, I should’ve known better than to think that it was Lou at the door.  Only he was expected.  And I didn’t think to myself, “Gee, I wonder what’s finally warmed Lou up to the concept of ringin' the Goddamn doorbell?”  And, anyway, come to think of it, maybe that’s supposed to be his Signature--how he “announces” himself--with:  “The Knock.”  Everyone always knows it’s Lou because he never rings the bell.  Besides, who knocks anymore?  Lou.  That’s who.  Lou knocks. 

And if everybody else knocked, if, all of a sudden, folks stopped ringin’ doorbells, to…  I don’t know…  save the environment--because God knows how much power would be saved if everybody knocked instead of buzzed--I have no doubt that Lou would start pressing that button.  Again, the germs.  Or, his Signature.  Or maybe he’d just throw a brick through the window.  Wellll… maybe he’d start with tossing pebbles against the glass, then work his way up to the brick thing.  People gotta make An Entrance these days.  You know what I mean.  Otherwise, you’ll forget them.  You know?    

Or maybe…  Maybe he’s just a little old fashion.  Yeah.  Maybe Lou’s got a little Amish in him.  Consider it:  If you’re Amish, do you ring the doorbell?  So maybe he’s just a little bit Amish.  Although he drives a car.  But it’s an old car.  A rust bucket, really.  He kinda dresses Amish, too.  Kinda sorta.  From time to time.  They wear black and white, right?  Lou does too.  And he’s got an iPhone, so I don’t know.  It is a first generation iPhone, though.  That’s considered old, right?  And the Amish use buggies, right?  Well, buggies weren’t around since the beginning of time.  A buggy was, at some point, a cutting-edge technology. 

So maybe…  Maybe Lou’s torn between the traces of Amish in his blood and the onslaught of Modernity.  I suppose we could go over and ask him.  But...  really...  honestly...  what’s important is who rang the bell.  ‘Cause it sure as hell wasn’t Lou.  And I know this because when I opened the door, Lou wasn’t there. 

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