My companion (the dick) and I hadn't been having too much luck wandering the streets of Langen. Those stupid Germans with their "critical thinking skills" and "education" didn't want to hear about a fourteen year old boy finding golden plates and talking to angels for some reason we couldn't figure out.
Something must have been wrong with them. Of course that was Satan. That rat bastard must have been running around before we got there telling people to "harden their hearts" and not give up booze and 10% of their income to people who can only promise happiness after they are dead.
But our Mission President had given us great advice. We were not "fishers of men" but "hunters."
What the fuck is the difference?
Well, fishers of men can use big ass nets and gather up lots of people like those missionaries in South America who have lots of baptisms that don't last very long.
In Europe we have to hunt men. Single kills that take a long time to track down. We may have to work extra hard to find that one person to baptize-- that won't last very long.
I don't remember the exact details, but I'm pretty sure that my companion had just finished some bullshit story that totally topped my story that I had just told because that's the way he was. No story shared could go without Elder Cocksmith piping in about a WAY better story than yours. Tracting wasn't going very well so we decided to check up on someone who had taken the first discussion and had been given a copy of the Book of Mormon.
We knock on his door and surprise sur-fucking-prise we are actually invited in. The man was a very nice, soft-spoken Spanish immigrant. He was incredibly cordial and offered us some tea (not BLACK! THAT TEA IS EVIL!). We sipped tea and I distinctly remembered how impeccably decorated his apartment was - and how many pictures of his mother he had.
We asked him how his reading had been going and he said good. We started sneaking in a second discussion. Things were going well. This man was very sensitive to the spirit, and really liked the discussion.
It came time for the baptism challenge of the second discussion. I had always thought it was kind of weird that you would ask for someone to be baptized before you finished teaching them all of the gospel, but who was I to question the spirit? When the spirit tells you to do something, you fucking do it. Even if it means cutting off some drunk asshole's head in a gutter, dressing up in his clothes, and then stealing his shit after wards.
My companion and I gave the visual glance to each other that it was time to ax.
Will you be baptized?
Yes.
Hooooooooooooly shit! This fucker said, "yes." Finally! I was going to bag and tag my first convert.
We set a date, and a date to start teaching the rest of the discussions. We were so happy. We called the mission president. It was a miracle! The Church was so fucking true!
A day or so went by and we went back to our appointment. We started to teach the discussion. My companion and I were still very happy, but the man seamed uneasy.
Uh oh. What's wrong? What happened?
Elders, do you believe in reincarnation?
No. Why?
Well what if there's something you struggle with that you just can't overcome in this world? Couldn't you come back to try again?
No, we only get one shot in this world. It is a test. We have to show god how much we love his rules (even though they might destroy us mentally or physically.)
The door opens and another man walks in. The spirit gets the fuck right out of there.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Homosexuals!
The man is pissed at seeing two hot young studs in suits in his kitchen with his partner.
GET THE FUCK OUT!
We leave, we are so sad. Our golden contact - thwarted by Satan.
Satan.
Satan.
The one being in this universe that could tempt people to believe that butt sex was worth giving up not only your eternal salvation, but also all the ridicule and emotional torture of everyone else.
Fuck you, Satan.
Something must have been wrong with them. Of course that was Satan. That rat bastard must have been running around before we got there telling people to "harden their hearts" and not give up booze and 10% of their income to people who can only promise happiness after they are dead.
But our Mission President had given us great advice. We were not "fishers of men" but "hunters."
What the fuck is the difference?
Well, fishers of men can use big ass nets and gather up lots of people like those missionaries in South America who have lots of baptisms that don't last very long.
In Europe we have to hunt men. Single kills that take a long time to track down. We may have to work extra hard to find that one person to baptize-- that won't last very long.
I don't remember the exact details, but I'm pretty sure that my companion had just finished some bullshit story that totally topped my story that I had just told because that's the way he was. No story shared could go without Elder Cocksmith piping in about a WAY better story than yours. Tracting wasn't going very well so we decided to check up on someone who had taken the first discussion and had been given a copy of the Book of Mormon.
We knock on his door and surprise sur-fucking-prise we are actually invited in. The man was a very nice, soft-spoken Spanish immigrant. He was incredibly cordial and offered us some tea (not BLACK! THAT TEA IS EVIL!). We sipped tea and I distinctly remembered how impeccably decorated his apartment was - and how many pictures of his mother he had.
We asked him how his reading had been going and he said good. We started sneaking in a second discussion. Things were going well. This man was very sensitive to the spirit, and really liked the discussion.
It came time for the baptism challenge of the second discussion. I had always thought it was kind of weird that you would ask for someone to be baptized before you finished teaching them all of the gospel, but who was I to question the spirit? When the spirit tells you to do something, you fucking do it. Even if it means cutting off some drunk asshole's head in a gutter, dressing up in his clothes, and then stealing his shit after wards.
My companion and I gave the visual glance to each other that it was time to ax.
Will you be baptized?
Yes.
Hooooooooooooly shit! This fucker said, "yes." Finally! I was going to bag and tag my first convert.
We set a date, and a date to start teaching the rest of the discussions. We were so happy. We called the mission president. It was a miracle! The Church was so fucking true!
A day or so went by and we went back to our appointment. We started to teach the discussion. My companion and I were still very happy, but the man seamed uneasy.
Uh oh. What's wrong? What happened?
Elders, do you believe in reincarnation?
No. Why?
Well what if there's something you struggle with that you just can't overcome in this world? Couldn't you come back to try again?
No, we only get one shot in this world. It is a test. We have to show god how much we love his rules (even though they might destroy us mentally or physically.)
The door opens and another man walks in. The spirit gets the fuck right out of there.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Homosexuals!
The man is pissed at seeing two hot young studs in suits in his kitchen with his partner.
GET THE FUCK OUT!
We leave, we are so sad. Our golden contact - thwarted by Satan.
Satan.
Satan.
The one being in this universe that could tempt people to believe that butt sex was worth giving up not only your eternal salvation, but also all the ridicule and emotional torture of everyone else.
Fuck you, Satan.
No comments:
Post a Comment