Bible Throwdown

Today wasn't the best day. I was walking down the road, minding my business, when I was attacked by a drive by scripturing. It's not as easy as it appears, and I am usually not alone, which most likely led to this inopportune throw down.

Again, I was walking down the road, mind you I was pretty close to our stake boundaries, when a group of the NorthFakeTown Stake drove up to me flashing their gang signs. I thought it looked pretty ridiculous to see a bunch of kids trying to spell out their turf with their hand. I mean, it's like 15 letters, and I had lost track of who they were, simple because I was getting bored trying to spell out there name. At the very moment that I had lost track of what they were spelling, I couldn't help but to start giggling.

Never giggle at a ruthless gaggle of priests armed with scriptures, however they immediately proceeded to speed off. I was feeling a little full of myself, as I was little proud of what I chalked up to defending off the enemy. Like anybody that had personally fended off a hostile group (atleast in my head), I start strutting towards my house, with definite attitude. I felt like Moses when he led the jews out of Egypt. I mean, I was chanting "Follow me and I will guide you to safety..", and knowing me, It didn't stop after one time. I kept it going through my head until I noticed that the same car must have made a U-Turn, as it was coming back towards me at a high rate of speed, and acting very erratic. As I was watching in curiosity, they did a very dramatic swerve and stopped their car right in front of me. Again, I must have been full of myself, as I didn't take cover. I mean c'mon, Moses parted the red sea, the least that I could do would have been to deflect anything directed at me.

Well, that didn't happen. I couldn't have been more wrong. Before I could move, Books of Mormon, Triple Combinations, and Quads were being hurled at me. I can remember this part, as I was impressed at how fast the little people in the back had actually thrown the books at me. That was until I was knocked unconscious by the shear amount and velocity of their weapons.

As I woke up, I noticed several of my neighbors along with my Bishop hovering over me. There were giggling and muttering going on all around me, and I couldn't figure it out, and nobody would tell me. As I was standing up by the bishops car, I noticed from what I could tell, was alot of dirt on my face. Chalking that up to the recent attack, I had actually let it go, when my leaders pulled me to the side and started apoligizing to me and explaining the different retaliation options that came to their minds. I was simple happy to have lived through the attack, I mean, I could have been crucified or dropped off in the desert. What could have been so bad??

Well, I decided to look into the mirror one more time. I was totally mortified to what I had just read. The attackers must have tasked out a group of primary students to write on the books with some sort of slow drying Ink, as I had "I Feel Pretty" tatooed all over my head and arms. The croupe de gras was what what handwritten on my forhead that actually pushed me over the edge.

They had the nerve to write down I AM Against California Proposition 8. I MEAN ACTUALLY, HOW

Publish Post

DID THEY KNOW!!!!

Holding Our Own

Now the story that I will be telling you is not easy, Nor will it be believable to some extent. It's been a difficult few years, and trying to understand what has happened is even harder to comprehend. Where do I start, and how much can I tell you? What can I get away with, without bringing the wrath of the organization down on me? You know what, I believe that it's time that you hear the truth.

I am part of a certain organization that deals in numbers and of all outrageous things, service. I held a certain position in this organization that could invoke fear in others, well at least once a month. I was what some may call an enforcer of truth and love. I am a Home Teacher, and it was my job to extend the hand of faith in love in the hopes that the fear my title brought, would bring others obedience to the organization. I have to admit that it wasn't the funnest job in the world, however, it had it's perks. The families that you would walk by, would actually run inside, grabbing their kids in the hopes that they would miss that knock on the door to see how you were doing. You could point to some stranger, and you neighbors would sit and pray that they wouldn't be called to face my leader or leaders. We were tough, and we knew it. We throw our weight around, forcing those around us to accept our help whenever we felt necessary, though we would always pass those threats to them, that we would be back. We even incorporate the lesser known methods of persuasion with mass produced foods with scary names like "Funeral Potatoes, Noodle Casserole, or my favorite, "Green Jello with Carrots".

Some of the other tactics that we use would even scare the hardest of families. We throw bibles and books of Mormon at them. We say it's in the name of our lord, however, it's a maniacal way to bring in visitors so that we can force the love and good will upon them. Just scary if you don't know what is happening. Little do they know, that when we ask if they have any questions about our organization, we pass their information on to an elite group of young men and women that use their skill and determination to share our propaganda of faith and love. How dare us you may say, well I say good for us.

We have it more and more difficult these days. Fast offerings and Tithing can be hard to come by, so the invasive nudging that we do is necessary. We've even looked into guilt as a way, however, I don't like to use those words. I like conscience myself. We hold our own in this fiercely competitive climate. With all that we do, I can tell you that we repent every day for the harassment that we bring down. We look for guidance in those prayers, which is needed in the hope of finding those additional names to stock and hunt like the prey that they are.

From stake to stake, the boundaries are set, the lines are drawn. These are the stories of the Mormon Mafia, and I can only tell you that it's beyond belief.