Wednesday, March 25, 2009

...and get your kicks for free.

The Mormons introduced themselves as "Jim" and "Peter" from "The Latter-Day Saints".

To their surprise, I immediately asked them in. "Coffee?" I offered. "Er, no thanks," replied Jim, "but a glass of water would be nice."

"Now, fellers, what have you blokes got to say for yourselves?" I enquired, as we sat around the table while Jim got a dirty big book out of his briefcase - a tome that resembled a bible, but which was in fact The Book of Mormon, one of the stupidest wastes of good Tasmanian old-growth forest you might ever see.

"Do you know anything about our church, Laurie?" asked Jim, who was obviously the senior partner of the Jim and Pete show.

"Nothing at all," I lied, wondering what tale of idiocy would shortly be coming my way. Jim, who'd been to Mormon training school by the look of him, asked me straight off (and believe me, I was unprepared for this) "Are you worried by the prospect of spending eternity in hell, Laurie?"

Well, ten points for announcing your utter stupidity up front, I thought to myself. "Tell me about this hell you speak of, Jim," I replied more courteously. Jim launched himself into a tirade of imaginary horrors that would have done James Joyce proud. After three or four minutes of this I was becoming both impressed by his reserve of adjectives, and worried about his sanity at the same time.

Now, it just so happened that, a couple of days previously, I'd had a bit of an altercation with the limb of a tree I'd been removing down in the bottom paddock. The thing had fallen and twisted, sending a smallish branch in my direction. I'd turned to run, just as the branch came down and grazed my back. Nothing serious, but I had some pretty hefty cuts and grazes down my back that made it look like it had come in contact with a cat-o-nine-tails half a dozen times. To tell the truth, I was more pissed off with the thought that it had ripped to pieces a favourite t-shirt that proclaimed "God is dead - now let the bastard rest in peace, motherfuckers." A sudden thought came to mind.

"Jim," I interrupted as speckles of froth were starting to appear around the sides of his mouth, "there's a bit of a problem I see in your argument, if you don't mind me saying so. You see, I have a medical condition - well, to tell you the truth, it's a mental health issue - called Masochism Anxiety Disorder. I know, of course, that it's irrational, but my psychiatrist tells me there's no likelihood of a cure for it."

"Oh," said Jim, utterly perplexed. 

"Yeah, it's a bit of a bugger, actually," I continued, "because it's a condition that presents itself as a desire to have pain inflicted upon myself. I enjoy being hurt, to put it simply, and, quite frankly, this 'hell' you describe sounds like my idea of the ultimate fun-park. I mean, I've made up a few little devices I use down in the shed that involve whips and electric motors and such, but hell sounds like the mother of all torture chambers, and to tell you the truth, I can't wait to get there."

By this stage I could see Peter glancing around as if he was coyly assessing the best possible escape routes out of the place, and he had begun to go several tinges of a whiter shade of pale. Jim was studying his book of Mormon as if he was trying to find a verse or two dedicated to the management and care of the seriously deranged. Fat chance, I thought, as I ploughed on.

"I'll give you an example of what I'm talking about. A couple of days ago I had a good session with my cat-o-nine-tails machine I've rigged up. It was most gratifying, I can tell you," I said with a decidely lewd leer in Pete's direction.

I stood up, turned around and pulled my t-shirt up over my shoulders. By this stage, my wounds had become scabrous and evilly red, with blue tinges of bruises on the sides. It was a most prepossessing sight, if I do say so.

At this, young Pete jumped to his feet with a gasp of horror. It was a bad move, because what little blood had been left in his head cascaded immediately into his feet, and the poor bastard dropped like a rock in a pratfall that would have done Buster Keaton proud. He was out cold on the floor of my kitchen with blood trickling out of a nose that was never going to attract nice young Mormon ladies again.

Jim jumped to the aid of his mate with little cries of "Oh, oh, oh!", knocking his glass of water all over the open pages of his book of moronism. At the same time, his face had gone a distinct tinge of green, but, curiously, his ears were the colour of a beetroot. Fuck, I thought, trying to contain my joy, these two could just about pass as the Italian national flag.

I pulled an old bottle of smelling-salts out of the cupboard, and held the open bottle under Pete's flattened nose. He came to with the sort of startled cry that Uma Thurman affected in Pulp Fiction. It was a shame I didn't have a dirty big needle full of adrenalin, I thought. Young Pete would have been seriously discombobulated to wake up with something like that sticking out of his chest.

Eventually, he was conscious enough, and comforted enough, to whisper to Jim that it might be a good idea if they went home. Jim helped him out the front door, down the path, and into the Landcruiser. "Are you sure you don't want to take a look at my little chamber of horrors before you go? I enquired solicitously.

At that, Jim gunned the motor and did an impression up my drive of a Norwegian rally driver. I dusted off my hands and went inside, only to spy Jim's book of Mormon still sitting on the kitchen table.

"Ah, kindling!" I exclaimed. "These Mormons come in handy occasionally."

And, I must say, the Book of Mormon burns beautifully.


Anonymous said...

That's hilarious. I can't believe he actually passed That was wicked of you Laurie :)


Frankus said...

You are funny and evil. I like that.

Oddly, when I had my encounter with the Jehovah's Witnesses I was tackling a lilac bush and managed to open a gash in my face. I had fresh blood oozing down my cheek as I crushed their arguments one by one. I kept them going for close to an hour. I wanted to argue more but I guess they figured they would not be converting me and perhaps they should move on.
It was either that or the blood.

Laurie said...

Blood will out, Frank, blood will out!

John S. Wilkins said...

'mon. How much of this actually happened, as opposed to should have happened?

Laurie said...

John, I'm mortally wounded! How could your humble correspondent ever fabricate a story just to get a few laughs? Oh, the pain! :)

Philip1978 said...


I don't think I am going to stop laughing all day, that was fucking brilliant!

Such forethought is amazing - if any religious idiot comes into my place the first thing they will see is my bookcase with all the god bashing books neatly displayed, I wouldn't have time to fabricate anything like that.

But I really do have to commend you on your opening gambit of Coffee - that was sheer genius - in fact all of it was. The Mormon God is NOT going to be happy with you young man, I can tell you that now!

Coincidently the word verification for this post is "quake" - how cool and appropriate is that?


Laurie said...

Thank you, Phil - "fucking brilliant" is indeed high praise coming from a man of such restraint!

Anonymous said...


I'm going to have to steal that tactic sometime.


phil said...

You're actually a sadist, aren't you?

My old man, who was of similar views to yer good self and had a lot of time on his hands, always invited them in for a good long talk. But he'd done his research and and knew the Bible backwards and had an answer for everything. Cheap entertainment.

Jonathan said...

Hilarious stuff. :-)

I live in a flat so never get visits from the religious. Over here it's Jehovah's Witnesses who do the door-knocking, they used to come around every Sunday and we'd simply ignore them until they went away. It's a shame it doesn't happen any more, because I have a whole spiel prepared about how Satanism is really misunderstood, and the Devil isn't all that bad.

clodhopper said...

Laurie: You still don't get it do you? Hell is intelligently designed and tailored to each individual. Yours will be to attend a Bob Comfort concert which goes on for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and..........

Laurie said...

No! No! Clod - you bastard!

Anonymous said...


I love your story telling abilities and your morbid streak appeals to my darker side, but...your story lacks credibility because Mormons abandoned the traditional hell doctrine of Christianity ages ago. You see, dear ol' Joe Smith had a revelation. Hell is a place of punishment that only lasts for a 1000 years or so but ultimately, the tormented will return to Heaven's lowest level (Telestial Kingdom). Average everyday Mormons (and certainly missionaries) have conveniently forgotten about the 1000 year bit and would never mention it to a potential convert.

If you're interested in their ridiculous notions about the afterlife, this isn't a bad primer.


BTW, my own experience suggests inviting them in for a beer, a joint and some gay porn is way more effective.

Tezcatlipoca said...

Oh Laurie! I almost like this one better than your tale of vacationing working girl poolsharks. Hahaha!

Anonymous said...

I've made up a few little devices I use down in the shed that involve whips and electric motors and such, but hell sounds like the mother of all torture chambers, and to tell you the truth, I can't wait to get there."

By this stage I could see Peter glancing around as if he was coyly assessing the best possible escape routes out of the place,

OK, by here you had me howling, throwing my head back and clapping my hands. Can't wait to read the rest now.

Anonymous said...

Laurie -- *wipes tears from eyes* you're the rumpelstiltskin of atheist fantasy. That was really good!

(But how nice to know from Gregg that hell only lasts for a 1000 years. It makes a lot more sense.)

Anonymous said...


Not really much better is it? The fact that Mormons limit Hell implies they recognize something was wrong with the initial idea, don't you think? But, could they go all the way and dump the idea completely? No, then no one would still consider them Christian (as if that's something to aspire to).

-- Gregg

Laurie said...

Bugger, Gregg - this is the problem with you intellectual atheists - you know your religions so well that unless a bloke does his research exhaustively, the gaps in his knowledge can destroy the otherwise confident veracity of a story. OK, OK, I admit it - pure fiction this time! (Except that I was visited by them, and had a lot of fun anyway! Poor bastards couldn't wait to get out!)

Diacanu said...

(Dieter from Sprockets voice)


Frankus said...

Laurie, I went to the YouTube to find the Mormon Cartoon for your edification. If you have not already seen it you must.
Here it is:

While looking for it I came across this fascinating video of a Christian guy who shows some Mormons the cartoon and records their reaction. I'll include part 2 as this is where most of the interesting stuff takes place.

Laurie said...

Thanks, Frank - I've seen that one. It's hilarious and spooky at the same time. Recommended to anyone who hasn't seen it, though.

Steve Zara said...

Frankus has it right. Funny and evil. Brilliant.

Anonymous said...

I enjoyed your casual and calm beginning with him, which was only a prelude for what was to come.

More brilliance Laurie!

grunted said...

Ah mormons - such an easy target! try telling that you get off by smelling their undies, that they lost the best part of their religion when they did away with polygamy, or getting them to direct you to the local bottlo. The possibilities are endless. Whatever you do, don't try and talk religion unless you're an complete insomniac.

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