This morning, I looked out the window and flinched.
Mormons! Or else a bunch of dudes in white short-sleeved button-up shirts with matching haircuts.
“Turn off the lights! Turn down the TV!”, I yelled to my Mom.
“Honey, it’s 8am.”, she tells me… soothingly.
“Right. Ok.”, I say. Warily.
Later in the day, Steph texts me, “HELP! I AM BEING ATTACKED BY MORMONS!”
She was at ToysRUs. They tried to save her soul by giving her URLs. She restrained her desire to pat them on their heads and tsk-tsk at them.
A little bit later, another text.
“HELP! NOW THEY ARE AT TARGET! THEY ARE FOLLOWING ME!”
I text back to her, “Dude. It must be Mormon day. I saw them too.”
She replies, “They must have shipped a fresh batch in. Don’t they have to go somewhere else?”
I say (because I actually grew up with many Mormon friends, and my sister was briefly Mormon. Yes, really.) “Yes, I think they usually have to travel for their mission.”
I still have the lights off in the house, but Law and Order is on the TV because Mom loves to watch it… and if they come to my door, you know what they are getting?
BOOBIES!!!!!
That should make ’em scatter.