MORMON STREET WALKERS
As habit would have it, my flash mob happy hour group ended up at Fuel, a gay bar right on Bell Road in between strip malls and auto dealers. Cheap drinks and good friends on a Friday after work makes you think that your job is not the only one that sucks.
The weather in Phoenix is starting to get tolerable, and at some point in the early evening, the bartender opened the large windows in front, facing Bell. It was nice. Fall cannot be much further away. But at some point soon after the openings, a shout went out from one of the window drunks. MISSIONARIES!
Sure enough, two young, good looking guys in dark slacks, white shirts, and ties were spotted walking (not biking) on Bell. Needless to say, the whole bar (sans a few lesbians) started hooting and hollering, trying to get their attention. All they got was a look from the two, and the determined missionaries passed on down the street. I would imagine the sin that they thought they were most avoiding was that of alcohol. Had they known that it was a gay bar, that would have presented a double sin whammy—alcohol and dick--I’m sure that they would have picked up their pace down Bell Rd. To linger would have undoubtedly allowed the tractor beam of the gay agenda to grab them by their ties and force them to do something unfamiliar in spite of their missionary position.
Having been one those Mormon missionaries, some years ago, I can assume then as they prepared to go to bed that evening they would have both knelt in prayer next to one of the missionary’s bed, and would have thanked God that they are different from those worldly men they saw earlier that night, and that liquor would never touch their lips. But they don’t know dick.
# posted by Lorenzo @ 12:03 AM
