When dealing with a prospective raper in your home, in all circumstances make him known where the door is. If it is the Autumn months it is expected you provide a tweed coat for him. The doorbell rang, interrupting my meditations on tweed clad rapists. I walked to the front door and opened it to find two girls standing outside. They were not attractive in a conventional way, or, for that matter, an unconventional way. If pressed, I would probably have described them as "very nice people." "Hi," one of them said, "I'm Cynthia. I emailed you earlier." "Right. You were the one who asked if you could bring your friend?" I asked quizzically. "I don't see why you'd think that would be a problem." "You're so sweet," her friend said. She wasn't wrong, but I played it cool and didn't say anything to indicate I agreed with her assessment. I opened the door for them. As the pair walked past me into the house I noticed they had those huge bulky purses girls seem to love these days. Like they expect to have to set out for the headwaters of the Congo at a moment's notice. Following them in, I frowned at the bathroom door as I passed it. Mike was bumping around in there, not making regular bathroom noises. f*****g Craigslist. This was becoming a very weird scene. "Wow, you've got real Care Bears!" Cynthia exclaimed. "Of course. That's what the ad said. Look," I said, rubbing my hands together, anxious to get this over with. "Two hundred a pop. You interested or not?" "Two hundred?" The girls looked at each other, confused. "The ad said twenty." I stared blankly at them. Had I messed up the ad? It was entirely possible. The user interface for Craigslist looks like something that fell out of a monkey's ass. Frowning, I crossed my arms and looked them over. "OK, well, that was a mistake then. Each bear's two hundred." "Each bear?" Cynthia asked. "Your ad said $20 for admission." "Admission? For what?" I asked, incredulous. Behind me, I heard the bathroom door opening. "Hi Cynthia!" "Hey Tiger!" I turned around to see a fat tiger standing on its hind legs in my living room. Stunned at the sudden appearance of a bipedal jungle cat in my home, it took me a moment to realize this was Mike. "Holy cats man, what are you doing?" "Just getting a little more comfortable," he said. An incredibly disturbing sound emitted from his head somewhere. Hours later I would realize, while shaking violently, that this was meant to be purring. "Here's your money," he said, putting $20 on the table. Cynthia's friend placed $20 on top of that and, with a wink, ducked past me and headed to the bathroom. "Wait, whoa. What exactly do you people think my ad said?" Cynthia and the fat tiger exchanged a glance with each other. "You said you were a furry enthusiast who wanted to hold a party." I gaped, incredulous at what she just said. "My ad? The ad which said I had two mint condition Care Bears for sale? A Bedtime Bear, and a Love-A-Lot Bear? That ad? You read that and thought I wanted people to come over, dress up as animals and f**k each other in my house?" Cynthia squinted at me, as if I was the one being insane in a tiger costume. "You posted an ad in the Services Offered section with the words 'Bear,' 'Bedtime,' 'Love-A-Lot' and 'Come on down?'