There was a knock at the door on Monday. I did not open the door. That's because I was out at the time. I was at the library returning a book detailing the fines to be paid for overdue books. My book was overdue and I was fined £3; which is more than the cost of the book. So I kept the book.
I can hear you thinking, you know. You're wondering how I knew there was a knock at the door if I was out. The dog told me. I have trained him to put his toy bone just by the door when someone knocks at the door. When I came back home, the bone was behind the door.
On Tuesday there was another knock at the door. This time I opened the door because I was home. It was the postman. Her had a letter and he said, "Is this letter for you. The name is obliterated!"
I told him my name is Victor Moubarak. He gave me the letter anyway. It was from a lawyer. I had been left two valuable items in Aunt Matilda’s last will and testament when she died last year.
On Wednesday I took the items to an antiques dealer and he confirmed them as a genuine Stradivarius and a Rembrandt.
Unfortunately, Rembrandt was bad at making violins and Stradivarius was a terrible painter!
As I got home there was another knock at the door. This time it was one of those couriers working for an Internet Shopping Website. He was delivering a package. He asked, "Is this Number 11?"
I said, "No. It is Number π ... pronounced pi. But the horizontal line at the top has fallen and it looks like 11. In fact our house Number is 3.14 because it is slightly larger than other houses ... 0.14% larger to be precise. So I called it pi."
He did not understand a word I said. He asked me if the packet was for me. So I sent him to Number 11 down the road.
On Thursday there was another knock at the door. It was one of those food delivery people. You order a meal on the phone and they deliver. He stood there with a flat box in his hand and said, "Pizza?"
"No ..." I replied, "Pi ... not pizza ..."
He stood there nonplussed. Obviously he was no good at mathematics. In order to help him I asked him, "Did you cut the pizza in six or eight slices?"
He looked in the box and said, "Eight ..."
I replied, "I'm not that hungry to eat eight slices," and sent him away to Number 11.
On Friday there was another knock at the door. It was a man. He said he was collecting for the Home For Fallen Women. I told him I did not have any fallen women. At that point there was a loud noise of something falling down the stairs. I turned round and it was the mother-in-law. I asked her, "did you miss a step?"
"No," she said, "I hit every one of them!"
On Saturday there was another knock at the door. I opened and found a snail on the doorstep. I remembered that on Monday I had seen that snail on the doorstep and to save him from being trodden on and killed I threw him in the bushes. I bent down to pick him up and he said, "what's the great idea of throwing me in the bushes?"
On Sunday there was another knock at the door. I opened and it was our priest. Trust him to call on Sunday. He said that he had not seen me for confession for a number of weeks, so he called to see if all was well. I told him I'd given up sinning. Too much effort. I could not see the point of going to all the trouble of sinning and then confessing it afterwards. I thought it would be easier to stop sinning altogether. Besides, my neighbour does not have an ass for me to covet and his wife is too ugly to covet anyway.
The priest looked disappointed. He said no one seems to be sinning these days. Either that, or they don't know what sinning is.
He said he will run talks at the church hall on the Ten Commandments with various examples to demonstrate each sin. There will be a talk on each Commandment every week.
I said I'll attend when he talks about adultery. I'd like to know how he'll demonstrate that!
