Thursday, September 14, 2006

my sister and the Mormons

Word spread quickly that some guys in dress slacks were walking around my sister's apartment complex spreading the good news. Everyone drew their blinds and turned off the tv's, hoping to evade any obligation to accept pamphlets. My sister, brazen heathen that she is, grabbed her cigarettes and planted herself on the front porch, ready to wage ideological warfare. I never thought she was big on analyzing organized religion--it always seemed like she was much more into things like clothes and makeup and redneck bars. It turns out I underestimated her.

"Why do you keep reading to me? Do you believe everything you read in books?"
"God wrote this," they responded.
"God didn't write that."
"The prophets wrote it."
"I dated a guy who thought he was a prophet once. He spent six months in a mental institution. You don't see me reading his scripture."

She then continued to detail every beef she's ever had with organized religion, including prescriptions against premarital sex, and to tell them they shouldn't knock the bar scene till they've tried it.

"Do you know anyone who might be interested in hearing what we have to say?"
"Yes, my sister. She lives right down the street. I'll give you her address."

Unfortunately, I was, uh, indisposed at the time (engaging in an afternoon sampling of an activity I'm sure they most certainly would not approve of) and didn't answer the door. Snap. I would have loved to chat with them.

Sorry if I offended anybody. I renounced my Christianity some time ago.

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