One should never drink and drive. Fortunately I’ve never done that. But no one ever said “Don’t drink and go on the Mormon internet page and strike up a conversation with them on their chat”. Oh no, if only someone would’ve warned me sooner. I still have no freaking idea as to why I ended up on the Mormon web page during the wee hours after a night of heavy drinking. All I know is that this was the starting point of my short venture into the wonderfully, extremely, obviously fictive world the Mormons consider infallible truth.
I had to wait a moment. The chat window told me to patiently wait, and that missionaries would be with me soon. So I did as I was told. I sat there, chewing on some leftover pizza and listening to music from the pits of hell, thinking up clever ways to bash these Mormon freaks. To be honest, it really wouldn’t have been that hard. If a religion is so obviously fake as the Mormon faith, it shouldn’t even deserve time to be bashed. But to try and reason with people who have been brainwashed from birth is a lost cause. There are people like Kurt Wise, who has a Ph.D. in geology from the prestigious Harvard University, but still insists that “…if all the evidence in the universe pointed toward an old earth, I would be the first to admit it but I would still be a young earth creationist because that’s what holy scripture teaches me.”.
Finally the missionaries popped up. They introduced themselves as Sarah and Alice. I don’t understand why any sane woman would want to belong to this faith. Oh right. Sorry. Sane is the keyword here. But more of women and Mormonism later. They asked me what my question was. Now was my chance to mess with these Bible-thumpers (as well as “Book of Mormon-thumpers”). But apparently I was too intoxicated to be able to feel obliged to trash these peoples’ faith. I pitied them of course, but didn’t see it right to criticize people of genuine faith. Hah, what a wuss. Damn alcohol. Anyway, instead of being an ass and accuse these missionaries of being brainwashed and downright stupid, I proceeded with… you know what; I’m not even 100% sure. Too much ethanol running through my veins. I’m pretty sure though I started talking some bullshit about still being a Bible-thumper myself, and that I had lived my life so far according to the Bible, and wondered that if the Book of Mormon was the true word of god, what would he think about the fact that I hadn’t lived by it so far. Man was I stupid. How come that when faced with real religious nutjobs I couldn’t poke fun at their infantile delusions?
The whole conversation is still a big blur to me. I just remember not being able to criticize these people and just proceeding with genuine questions about faith. I remember laughing and scoffing a lot at the ignorance only these fundamentalist whackadoos could produce. I remember telling them about a close friend of mine who was a Mormon, and that he had made me interested in the LDS-church, and that that was the reason I had searched the Internet for more information on them. This of course was a big fat lie. Not sumo wrestler-fat, more like a post-his-prime Luther Vandross-fat. When I had watched video clips on the Mormon web page I saw a guy from my hometown. Checking him up on Facebook I saw we had a handful of friends in common. See, it wasn’t really that fat of a lie, since he was a friend of some friends. That’s almost a friend.
During the course of the conversation we came to realize that Sarah was from my native country. So naturally we exchanged a couple of words in my mother tongue. At the end of our half-hour conversation they asked me if I was willing to give them my phone number, so they could call me up later and continue the interesting conversation. Yeah, right. More like trying to brainwash poor, little me. Anyway, I felt reluctant at first, but life’s about taking funny chances. Plus, I was really wasted and just wanted to go to sleep, so naturally I gave them my number, and threw myself on the bed, falling in a drunken sleep.
This all happened sometime during the summer of 2012. I’d say during the middle of July, though I can’t really remember exactly. I worked long days, slaving away in the sun, looking more and more like an Italian for each day that passed. (My skin tans very gracefully). I worked until the middle of August, and during this period I received mysterious phone calls. It was a private number, and when I answered, there seemed to be no one there. If it had been a telemarketer, it would most likely not have been a private number. I thought it was some harmless joke by some of my pervy friends. It wouldn’t have surprised me; they know how much I hate this sort of immature behavior, which only increased their tendency to act that way. Plus, my friends know I’m an aspiring horror writer, getting not only a kick, but also inspiration out of the smallest mysteries that are able to raise the hair on my back even a little. That reminds me, I need to get that thing shaved.
I think I received some 3-4 of these mysterious calls, before finally one day there was a voice on the other end of the line. It was a girl. Pretty shy too. At least that’s the first impression I got. I thought that if she was a telemarketer, she should try to get another job. This shyness wasn’t exactly attractive to a customer. She let out a shy “Hi”, and asked me how I was doing. Apparently she expected me to know who she was. I told her I was fine. Duh, that is like the one thing that bugs me about conversations. Apparently they always have to be started with “Hi, how are you?”, as if I actually was going to tell someone about my problems, had I any. Therefore it really isn’t much of a conversation, more like a “start-up ritual” of some sort, without which people apparently feel uncomfortable starting to talk about what’s really on their mind. “Hi, how are you?”. “Fine thanks. And you?”. “I’m fine too”. “That’s good”. Jesus, give me fucking break already. And all that is STILL followed by an awkward silence, both waiting for the other person to start with the actual conversation.
Anyway, I had to apologize and ask this cute chick who she was. Yeah, I know a cute chick when I hear one. She told me she was, as you might have already guessed, from the local strip club, telling me that she hopes that last night was the last time I try to hump both the strippers, AND the bouncer. To those of you who doubt this story, well done. Maybe you really are smarter than those people on that show “Are you smarter than a cheese grater?”. Of course this was one of the Mormon missionaries, the one from my home country. Well, I think she was a bit too shy to be a missionary too. But a shy missionary was still more attractive than a shy telemarketer. She told me she had tried to call me several times, but that apparently I hadn’t heard her. She had heard me though, perfectly. Good, since my voice should be nothing but heard. It is very delicate. Naturally seductive even.
We proceeded with talking about both our day-to-day life and our thoughts on spiritual matters. As far as I can remember, she never asked me if I wanted a copy of the Book of Mormon, or if I was willing to attend the local church. She was more interested in my religious upbringing and my views on religion in general. She also asked a lot about my friend who was a Mormon. It’s extremely uncomfortable trying to talk about something that isn’t true. I tried to quickly explain that he was more of an acquaintance than a friend, and that it really wasn’t that important.
I started thinking if Mormons have some sort of gold star system, you know like those in elementary school? If I would go on to become a Mormon it’d be vital for them to know who was the initiating force which ultimately lead to my baptism, so they could get a gold star and feel good about themselves. Of course this wouldn’t be the case, since nothing good is accomplished by humans. All credit has to go to god, like every other good thing that happens. If I were to not join the church, this would be because of me and the lacking brainwashing skills of the missionaries. It wouldn’t be god’s fault, just like nothing bad that ever happens is.
During the following weeks Sarah called me up once or twice. It was always her, and her alone. Maybe her partner sat idly by wasting her time. Well, the life of a Mormon is still wasted on copious amount of time spent talking toand visiting their imaginary friend, so I guess there was no harm done. I told her that I was just about to move to Dis to start my studies at the university, and that I didn’t really have time for anything else than packing, moving and registering, so she said she’d call me the following week. Boy was she in for a happy surprise when she would call the next time.