Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Tunas-1, Utah-0

So. GramTuna was outside last night slapping in daffodil bulbs as fast as she can. I have been regrettably delayed because I discover I have fourth-grade homework to do. Earthquakes. Draw a picture of what you imagine may have happened with the great earthquake of April 8, 1999 that happened near the Russian Chinese border. With no damage or injuries reported, I don't know what kind of imagination the teacher thinks we have. How should TinyTuna depict subtonic plates? Yeah. I didn't know either. Thank Google for Google. I had to Google the longitude and latitude of the quake because all my globes and atlases were in the wash. Whatever. It's done.

Once my earthquake assistance was no longer required, I strolled outside to alert GramTuna to the fact that it took longer than I thought, and most likely I would not be assisting in the deep-sixing of the tulip bulbs tonight. As we chat, I look up. When what to my wondering eyes did appear, was two guys walking down the sidewalk in navy pants, white dress shirts and ties. Uh Oh. RUN!

Note: If you're Mormon, love Mormons, or have a strong distaste for said mockery, you should probably stop reading.

As for the rest of us. When what to my wondering eyes did appear, but two Mormons strolling down the sidewalk. I'm not in the mood. I just struggled with earthquakes for the last 45 minutes. And I most definitely do not need speechifying. I go to church. I'm a religious person. But I don't go around accosting strangers in order to make it to the next level or the inner circle, or whatever it is they are doing. Unfortunately, I make the mistake of making eye contact. Verily, they shout "Good evening! May we come talk to you!" I'm a weenie. I make a hasty exit, stage right. I shoot a look at GramTuna (who misses everything I say, which is too bad, because it was funny) and I tell her "I'm going inside. NOW.....I have to sacrifice a goat." I run inside and feel guilty for abandoning her with the zealot twins. My guilt passes. Quickly.

A few minutes later, I venture outside once again. The Wonder Twins are gone, and I'm cracking up. GramTuna shakes her head. She said they offered to help. She said no thank you. She said they wanted to talk to her. She said no thank you. They wanted to know on which side of the duplex she lived. She gives me a deadpan look, makes that itty-bitty sign with two fingers, and says, "I was THIS CLOSE to saying Which Side?? The INSIDE!" I fall over laughing. She said they wanted to talk to her neighbor. She tells them they already did. "Didn't they hear my crack about sacrificing a goat?" I ask, disappointedly. Nope, they missed it. Damn. I hate it when a good punch line floats by, but by the same token, if they had heard it, my net gain would have been an additional 15 minutes of sidewalk sermonizing. By now I can see the prophet boys across the street. I just don't get this whole thing about wandering for years on end, preaching the Gospel according to Donny and Marie. It isn't the wilderness, afterall, it's just TunaVille.

And yeah, I'll probably burn for this. Please don't send me letters about being insensitive. I am an equal opportunity mocker, and feel no qualms about zinging anybody, even (or especially) the home team Episcopalians. But for the next couple days, I'm going to keep laughing about "Which Side? The Inside!" That's right up there with the classic Jehovah's Witness comeback: "But I didn't see the accident."
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