Monday, January 09, 2006

Offending God's People (but not on purpose)

(Disclaimer: I am not anti-Mormon. I am not even anti-religion. I just suffer from extreme awkwardness when I am approached evangelistically.)

(Plus, I sometimes open my big mouth without thinking first)

On the way home from Florida last month, after twelve long hours in the car, we had finally, FINALLY reached our neighborhood. All we wanted to do was unload the car and get to sleep as soon as possible. In true dork fashion, we were observing our little homecoming tradition of blasting AC/DC’s “Back in Black” and letting our (black) dog hang out the window. Because we like to pretend like we’re badasses. Or something.

Anyhow, my window was down, Alex had his head stuck out the window with his ears flying back, and M and I were belting out the lyrics to Back in Black. Meanwhile, people two states over were feeling the bass thump and wondering if King Kong had escaped from the movie theater.

Just as we’re approaching our house I see two Mormon missionary kids on their bikes, riding slowly past our building in the darkness.

“OH NO,” I yell to my husband, “IT’S THE MORMONS.”

Yelling is good when you want to be heard over loud music. It’s bad when your window is down and you happen to be saying something offensive.

I’m sure those two boys took in the thumping music, our badass dog, and my obvious preference for Satan worship and thought, “These people need saving, STAT!”

We pulled the car up, turned the engine off, and huddled together like two ninnies.

“Where are they?” I whispered.

“I lost them!”

Finally we saw that the kids had gone to our neighbor’s house. We decided to make a break for it and try to get everything in the house before they were done with our neighbor.

Go, go, GO!

As we jumped out of the car I saw my neighbor open his door. “Are you Mike?” one of the boys asked him. Holy shit, I thought. How do they know his name? Do they know our names?

M and I made two trips each, lugging suitcases and the cooler and a bag full of Christmas presents up the stairs and into the house. We slammed the door. We stood there panting. I looked out the window and saw that the boys were still talking to our neighbor.

“Crap! I left all the dog’s stuff in the back seat!”

M shook his head. “Just leave it.”

“No! I can do it!” And I was off.

As I was lunging into the back seat, gathering blankets and toys and abandoned rawhide chews, I heard the unmistakable whirrrr of bicycle tires approaching from behind. I was busted, so very busted, but I thought maybe they hadn’t seen me, so I half crawled into the back seat and curled into a ball with my butt in the air, my eyes screwed shut. Because, you know, people can’t see me if I have my eyes closed.

“Um, hello, ma’am…”

Miserably I started waving my arms around to make it seem as though I had been looking for something.

“Oh,” I laughed weakly, “Here’s the seatbelt!”

Mercifully my husband chose that moment to come through the front door.

“Hello, sir,” the other boy said, glancing over at me. “We would like to share God’s word with you and your family.”

“Thanks, guys,” my husband said kindly, “But we kind of have our hands full right now.”

I fell backwards out of the car with the blankets and toys and rawhide in my arms as if to say, see? Very full! This is why I was crawling into the backseat! Not to show off my ass, or hide, for God’s sake!

“Oh, all right,” the boy said. He and his friend looked disappointed. It must have felt like they were standing before a virtual goldmine of sin without a single pickaxe.

M and I smiled at them and waved. The boys pedaled away into the cold, dark night.

I am definitely going to hell.


Blogger Lisa said...

I've always wanted to do something horrible when the Mormons come a-knockin'---like invite them in for tea and then try to covert them to paganism or something. But who am I kidding? I've got no guts and a big ol' guilty conscious.

4:03 PM  
Blogger Bearette24 said...

Hehe...the Mormons have never knocked for me, but I remember hiding from the Jehovah's Witnesses with my dad when I was little.

Also, I remember walking my dog when I was about 8 and being stopped by a middle-aged woman who said, "This is such a nice day, isn't it?" It was sunny, etc.

"Yes," I said.

"Isn't it kind of like heaven? We believe that this is heaven, right here on earth," she continued.

I can't remember what I said next, but it was probably along the lines of, "Oops, gotta go!"

4:38 PM  
Blogger bdogg_mcgee said...

If you're going to hell, then I'll be right there with you, drinking cocktails!

9:33 AM  
Blogger Liz said...

Okay, as long as I have company. ;-)

9:34 AM  
Blogger Frema said...

This story makes me smile. :)

12:09 PM  
Blogger Sarcomical said...

i love that you handled it the exact same way i probably would have! ;)

5:40 PM  
Blogger New Mezger said...

One time, in high school, the Mormon's came to our door while a bunch of my friends were over.

My friend, Michael answered the door and acted weird, like he so often did in high school. In the meantime, we're calling the neighbors. He sneaked out the back door and the next door neighbor let him in through the back. Surprise! When the Latter Day Saints showed up at their house, Michael was there to answer their door and he of course acted as if he'd never seen them.

I think we got him to 2 more houses before it was all over.

It's a favorite Mormon memory. Save me a seat at the table in firey eternity with you and Bdogg...I'll bring the vodka.

3:53 PM  
Blogger Liz said...

new mezger- that is too funny. What a great joke!

4:10 PM  

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