tmoe is dissapoint

really am tho

 

yyyyyyyyyy

 

In these troubled, secular times, it behoves a religious man to curry as much favour with the deity of his choice, to ensure that he is not left to the eternal fate of the heathen/infidel masses that surround him. WHat better way to do this then to kill off a part of a truly evil golbal organisation. A group of people who send teams of operatives around the world every weekend to annoy the living shit out of man woman and child; Christian, Jew and Muslim; Hindu and 'other'. Gone are the salad days of religion, my friends, when the world was wide and vastly divided and it was easy to take shelter in the comforting words of a great beard in the sky. NOw each religion and denomination has to scramble for souls and th faithful have an uphill battle to keep their God happy.

What better way to earn some easy points than to just fucking kill a Mormon? Those evil fuckers.

These guys are right up there with genital herpes for sheer annoyance value, or so I hear (goddamit, now people will think I have genital herpes). It's sunday morning, which means that a scant few hours ago it was saturday night, which means that chances are, you are sleeping off a killer hangover, or if you're unfortunately awake, nursing said hangover.

Right near the very top of the huge list of things you have absolutely no need of in this fragile state are some neat, tidy, happily smiling people at your door, foisting substandard religious propaganda in your face, and doing everything in their cheek-turning power to never, ever let you go; until you too become one of them... one of them... one of them.

"Dude, someone's at the door." My housemate says to me as we sit in the dark TV room and watch Fight Club with the volume turned way, way down, sip banana thickshakes and much on codeine.

"What kind of evil prick rings a doorbell at nine... something, in the morning. Fucking savages in this goddamn town." I reply, disgusted.

"Go get it." He says, casually.

"What? You go get it, your fuckin highness."

In reply he merely holds out his hand, balled up into a fist. Like pretty much all of our disagreements, this will be sorted by rock, scissors and paper.

"On three, or after three?" I ask. I always ask, and the answer is always

"On 3."

"One, two, three" we say in unison, shaking our fists up and down in the time-honoured ritual.

His hand is flat, mine is still balled. Paper beats rock. Dammit, I lose again. I blame the simpsons for it.

One of my character flaws is heavily involved with this game and the simpsons. In an episode years ago, Bart plays the game against Lisa for some reason or other and as they do so internal monologue voiceovers start. Lisa: "Poor, old predicatble Bart, always takes rock." Bart: "Good old dependable rock, it never lets me down." Lisa chooses paper and bart loses. I laughed my balls off and vowed to always take rock, whenever I played this game. Where it all comes apart is in the fact that all my friends know this and hence know that if they want me to do something, all they need to do is play rock, scissors, paper. Though, really, it's just rock, paper now.

The reason I stick with it: amazingly sometimes they get the fool notion that I'll crack and choose scissors, so every now and again it works. It makes the victory all the sweeter. My housemate however is under no such illusions and continues to grind me into the dirt with win after relentless win. So far he's ahead 96-1. I won the first bout, and he learned his lesson well.

I got up to answer the door, slowly, blearily out of the cool cosy darkness of the TV room to be bathed in the harsh glare of sunlight as I opened the door. Fucking Mormons.

"Good Morning! We're with the Church of Mormon, and we would like to take just a minute of your time to discuss with you the yadayadayada." Ok, so he didn't say 'yadayadayada', but I kinda tuned out and can't remember.

"Who is it?" My housemate called out.

"Mormons." I heard him scramble. Uh-oh, here we go. I was just about to close the door and send them on their merry way, now they're going to get preached at. My housemate has a thing for talking to Mormons about Scientology. He's not a scientologist, and they certainly aren't but he likes to see them off balance. As he came to the door, all smiles I just walked away.

I never stayed to watch his exact technique, but basically, he invites them in, gets them to sit down and chat and listens to part of their spiel, asking questions here and there. The look on their faces at this point is one of near orgasmic pleasure. Picture the scene in the Indiana Jones movies where he finds the treasure. The look of desire and greed and joy all wrapped up in a curious gleaming-eyed eager face.

Then comes the giant boulder, rolling down from the ceiling. He starts to preach to them about Thetans, psychs, engrams and such. He talks to them about Hubbard and his scripture. He makes comparisons between what they said and what he managed to pick up about scientlogy here and there. Basically he turns their own shit on them and rams it right down their fucking throats. Really though, check it out sometime - the similarites between Mormonism and Scientology are quite startling.

The first time, I laughed. The second time I laughed. Now it just bores the shit out of me, because I've gotta keep Fight Club paused until he gets back or it's a fucking catastrophe. Sure I could just watch and then rewind it when he got back and yeah, we've both seen it a minimum of 4 times a week for the past 6 months, but it's the principle of the thing. I decide to nip this shit in the bud this time.

I got up, made four cups of tea, put some sugar in a bowl and milk in a separate pouring cup and walked out to offer them a cup, after removing all of my clothing except for a santa hat. Taking a deep breath, and realising that I was still drunk from the night before, thank Hubbard, I headed out to play host.

"Hi, guys, I thought you might like a cup of tea while you were here. The two missionaries look at me with relieved smiles that were quickly frozen into rictus' of shock and awe (heh, I got to use 'shock and awe' in conjunction with a story that directly involves my genitals). They then both turn away hurriedly, averting their eyes like I'm just about to change form into some three headed, five-titted hairy beast of Satan and devour their souls. Even my housemate was shocked and turned away.

Game, set, match.

"I'll just leave this here, then shall I?" I said and leaned over to put the tray on the table as they all shielded their eyes with their hands. The Mormons took this break to take their leave.

"Oh, uh, actually, we were just leaving. We've got a lot of houses to visit today, don't we?" The male one said to his female counterpart.

She was staring into space. "Wha? Oh, yeah, yes, let's go."

"Oh, that's a shame!' I said, and held out my hand, using their politeness to make them shake it, knowing that they were thinking that I had touched my genitals before shaking their hands, and so were effectively touching my nuts. The sheer unconfortableness of the situation for them made me a little hard, I gotta admit.

Then, I took the smallish knife I had been holding between my clenched buttock cheeks and savagely stabbed them twenty or so times each, until my naked body was covered in their self-righteous, preachy blood. I then carved up the corpses in the bathtub and disposed of them by putting the bits in a bag weighed down with rocks and dropped the bundles off in really, really deep water, never to be seen or heard again.

That's the ending I'd have liked to have had, but alas, no, we let them out. I went and put pants back on and we went back to finish watching Fight Club, never to speak about this episode again. My friend never again spoke to Mormons about Scientology again, as far as I know.

The moral of the story is: I shoulda just fucking killed 'em. I figure with the smack they talk about Jesus and Mary and stuff, God would be high-fiving me on my way through the pearly gates, when I get around to kicking my bucket.

Course, I'm an atheist, so I'd just leave the dipshit hanging. Pfft, douchebag - who high fives anymore besides dorky businessmen?

 

tl;dr


no really i didn't get past the third word


o and hi mar mar

 

hey tay tay<3

 

shut the fuck up you cunt

 

marmar<3

hi branbran
is i rite?

 

mo mo cow-licious