Yesterday I had a lunch at Jimmy John’s, a fast food franchise featuring fresh fare.
Anyway, when the teen tending the til told the total I turned totty — OH FORGET IT. When the lady rang me up and said the amount owed I have to admit my stomach suddenly felt a bit queezy, a bit sick, a bit worried. Because the exact amount I owed Mr. John was $6.66 … aka, the number of the Beast. Satan’s Shoe Size (sorry). Yes, 666 is the calling card of the evil one, the Devil’s address as foretold in the book of Revelation. (At least I assume that’s what it is, truth be told I never read Revelation. Just like everyone else who goes on and on about Revelation.)
Apparently the girl ringing me up has never read the Bible either, because she didn’t miss a beat. There was no awkward pause, no quick sideways glance, no look of horror in her eyes — just business as usual. Which means she either didn’t care about 666 … or it HAPPENS ALL THE TIME AS SHE SERVES HER LORD AND MASTER. I don’t know, just a thought.
Anyway, if I ever dare to go back to that Jimmy John’s outlet I fully intend to come prepared with Holy Water, a crucifix or two, and a “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” action figure. I also shouldn’t order the 75 cent extra cheese, that’s what pushed me up into the realm of $6 dollars and 66 cents.
Either that or God is telling me I should always buy a cookie too. What can I say? God is love.