Once upon a time, there was a man who could fly. While almost everyone admired and praised him for his superhuman ability, there was one person who didn't approve:
Thursday, February 08, 2007
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His mother-in-law, of course. She couldn't understand what her daughter saw in such a flighty fellow. And she resented the fact that while her sweet baby was home cooking, cleaning and caring for their sweet little baby, Birdie, he was off soaring through the clouds, spotting and tracking impending aerial doom and/or Santa far faster than NORAD had ever been capable of. She also knew he secretly enjoyed gliding around town late at night always on the look-out for . . .
missionaries. Bro. Jones loved flying around town on splits with the missionaries because first, he had an excuse to get out of the house, and second, he felt at least he was doing something good. Bro. Jones lamented marrying the bishop's daughter; not so much because of her parentage but because he married into a family where his mother-in-law felt the need to be the ward policewomen. If you wore slacks with a slight tear in them, you weren't holy enough...If you listened to Slayer, then you're going to hell...that type of b.s. rampant in his ward...nevertheless...
Jonesie loved this wife and their baby Birdie and was willing to tolerate the evil eye of his MIL, because Jonesie had bigger plans...
(may I digress long enough to laugh out loud over the irony of a slight tear in your pants making you less hole-y. Hahahahaha!)
...he also harbored a dream of opening a Quizno's.
Flying around made Jonesie hungry, and often he stopped at the local Quizno's in a nearby town. After his 10th visit, once again ordering a turkey bacon guacamole, it finally hit him - why didn't he just open his own store? It would certainly make it a lot more convenient for the times he needed his TBG fix. But there was one thing standing in the way of his dream... and it was...
...money. It's always money. He needed capital to start his Quizno's. But who could he get to invest in his dream and become a business partner? (pahleez, not Rosie again)...
Unfortunately for the ill-fated Jonesie the only person in the entire town with enough money to fund his fast-food fantasy franchise was, you guessed it, his mean-hearted martyr of a mother-in-law.
There's got to be a way, thought Jonesie. If only I could pretend to be someone else, create an alter ego of sorts. If I were someone other than myself, my MIL would LOVE to invest in a local Quiznos.
Because if there was one thing his MIL loved with as much passion as she loathed Jonesie, it would be Quiznos' Black Angus on Rosemary Parmesan Bread.
Still pondering the possibility of pulling off the perfect poseur plan, Jonesie coasted over to his local library to check out a book on . . .
(pahleez, no resconstructive surgery this time)
scrapboooking and homemaking and cross-stitching, in order to fit in with the real Mormons...
except those topics held no interest for Jonesie. He was blazing a trail - taking Mormondom to a whole new place. You see, as yet there were no real Mormon superheroes. Sure, there was Steve Young and Donny and Marie, and your political shmoes like Harry Reid and Mitt Romney (Romney for prez '08!). Michael O. Leavitt was a strong possibility but dang, the guy was so wooden and so... earnest. Jonesie couldn't picture him in a cape and tights.
Well, he could, but not without snickering.
So, still at the library, Jonesie passed by the craft aisle and sauntered over quietly, so as not to disturb the dust-covered librarian - whose only job was to wear cat-eye glasses and a pencil behind her right ear, thumb through musty crusty old books, and give dirty looks to patrons, punctuated with the occasional "Shhhh!" - to the auto mechanics and other manly topics aisle. As he took down a book about carburetors and the men who love them, he was quite surprised to bump into...
Bill Nye the Science Guy! "Hey, Bill, I'm your biggest fan!" "What are you doing on the carburetor aisle?" Bill Nye looked so uncomfortable, and as he spoke, the fetid odor of day-old alcohol fumed from his mouth..."Man, dude, I'm not well. Leave me the hell alone and get a life." With that Bill Nye took two awkward steps forward, staggered along the shelf, and keeled over in a stuporous heap, a puddle of urine puddling around his legs and soaking his soiled lab coat. "Man, I have to help this man, but my carburetor really needs fixing..." pondered Bro. Jones as he...
(What? Now you're going after BNTSG? Is no one sacred? By the way, still laughing over picturing Mike Leavitt in tights.Hahahahahaha!)
...was crushed to death under the burdgeoning weight of the bookshelf knocked over by Bill Nye's unconscious drunken fall to the beckoning floor...
Wow, these always end so violently.
I wonder why. Hmmmmm.
~bol~ You people are sick and twisted.
I like it.
By the way I actually tried Quiznos' Black Angus on Rosemary Parmesan Bread while in Arizona. Just for fun.
In honor of the evil MIL.
It wasn't half bad.
I thought flying Mormons like Brother Jones had automatic immortality and special polygamy rights. He couldn't have really died. Think of all his many wives at home he needs to feed and support.
OK, someone needs to start a new story. And we need a new song. I'm taking requests.
In fact, first person to leave a comment and suggest a song will get his/her wish (as long as it's available at Best Audio Codes).
I Like the Way you Move by Outkast!
I would also like to give a "shout out" to my bff Shaundre, I miss you, girl! Bootie shakin' ain't the same without you!
Great song--I got my story start just out of the intro.
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