Note from Author: I want to make something clear about this story I am about to tell. It touches heavily on the Mormon religion and God. These stories about the Dead Zombie Wife all the way to the Mormon Cult is fiction. I stretch the truth and elaborate on much of what is mentioned. Don’t take this stuff to heart. There are no evil Mormons trying to steal my soul. There is no zombie in my wall and the man below me isn’t a ghost with creepy ghosts children. It’s all for fun. Let me explain it all quickly. I heard a scratch on the wall one night and that scratch created Claudia or as I call her, The Dead Zombie Wife. I can tell you that some of the things below and the previous stories did actually happen. I just added a little flair to it to make it a little more interesting. Again. The Elders that visit me are not sent by Satan to claim my soul. The part about me praying, that is true. I swear.
I mentioned previously about the onset of the Samoan invasion. These zombie-like creatures are still lurking about and now, almost like they planned it, their offspring of these wild creatures are now squatting in my yard. They resemble the kids from the children of the corn movies, just minus the old style clothes and lack of technology. The kids “play” but I know their real plan. I know they are waiting for the Boston Pops to finally move out and the empty apartment will soon be theirs, another baby making facility added to their already global corporation.
But again, if there is evil, there must be good. You need a ying to your yang. I am speaking of the Mormons. Yes. Those crazy, door to door salesmen are good. Of all the groups in the world, why would the Mormons be the ones to save me from the Samoan invasion? It’s only a thought as of now. I could be wrong. They might be the ones who are doing the work of the devil to capture me and once again, make my life a living hell. I know little about the Mormon religion. I don’t know the beliefs of the LDS or how wonderful their leader, Joseph Smith is. I do know some things.I know he made some magic rocks that helped him decode the writings and when time was available, it helped cleaned Mike’s room. I know you get a planet when you die and have celestial sex forever… (ca-ching!)
It was probably a good month when I first met the LDS. I was cleaning house. It was a nice day and I had the windows open. I noticed two people in suits walking about the streets. I think nothing of it. Figured maybe they were republicans looking to steal votes away from Obama. I didn’t think they were Mormons. I go to throw trash away and the Mormons spotted me.
Elder F: Hi. Do you know the guy that lives in that apartment over there?
Me: No. I don’t know my neighbors.
Elder F: Oh. Well, we were gonna talk to him.
They were going to talk to the ghost of Carlos! Of all people, why him? And how can you talk to a ghost? Only way I know is a séance. I bet that is what they planned on doing. I’m aware that the Mormons are devil worshipers and believe heavily in the occult. I see what’s going on. “talk” to Carlos and have him drive me away or drive me insane. Whatever makes you LDS kids sleep at night. Wipe that smirk off your face, Elder Ouija. I know your little talks with me aren’t to save me. It’s recruiting. These two missionaries worked hard trying to get me to turn away from Catholicism and join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I wasn’t one to say no and to use a joke I already used, I didn’t treat them badly because I was taught to respect your elders. So the two Elders coaxed me into having another meeting. They tried weaseling their way into my home that same day by claiming they needed to use the restroom. I declined. Not because I don’t want to sit through their recruitment process but because my apartment was dirty and I am not one to let people inside a dirty and slightly, unkempt apartment.
We agreed on a new day to meet up. They seem very thrilled about my interest in their
cult religion. They left but before doing so, I was blessed with the Book of Mormon to read, study, and pray to God that the book is real and not some crazy fabrication thought up by a crazed man strung out on LSD. I’ve read the book. Not all of it but I have read some. It’s different. It is hard to wrap your head ahead this book and to believe that Jesus came to America to teach the word to Indians. But I was raised Catholic and it’ll take more than just a few short meetings to have me switch religions. If you’ve been told all your life that the sky is blue and then someone tells you it’s not, how quickly will you believe what they speak of? But whatever. This isn’t a religious debate. Enough about that. I am getting off track and need to get back to the Mormons, The Boston Pops, and the Samoans.
I didn’t know at the time if the Mormons were sent by God to protect me or if they were here to wreak havoc. I should mention that the Boston Pops are moving out soon. They were sent to protect me. The protection only lasted a while and now when they leave, I’ll be fair game to whatever else can be thrown at me. I worry that the Samoans are going to invade the empty apartment and set up camp there too. Could the Mormons be the ones to save me from the tribal Samoans? I did think that the Boston Pops were evil since they arrived on a rainy and stormy day. They weren’t evil. They were not sent by the devil. God sent them to protect me. But what is coming? I sold my soul to the devil to rid myself from the Lazy Laundriers. Something obviously has to be on its way to get me. Will it be the new tenants, the Samoans, or is it my new Mormon friends?
The Mormons come knocking on my door. How many came? Not one. Not two. But four. Four Elders came over to speak to my about the good word. It may be a stretch but could these four Mormons be the four horsemen of the apocalypse? This could be the end. We don’t have much time left. I was visited twice by all four but on the third visit, two of them (the original two) split town and I was stuck to be force-fed bulls**t about their cult and the magic rocks from Joseph Smith. The two Elders, Elder M. and Elder D. seem nice. They did trick me into seeing their temple. Who knows what really goes on in there. You know they have secrets rooms only really, really Mormon people are allowed into. Still, what I was allowed to see, it was pretty interesting. The baptismal pool, the mural, and the sealing rooms. Since I was now only being visited by two of them, it ruins my horsemen theory. I was sure I was right about it, like I was sure about the Anti-Christ. Kind of glad it wasn’t. But my theory of them being the evil group that is going to bring a life of torment to me is real. This is what the devil had planned. I sold my soul to rid this place of the Lazy Laundriers. They left and I was graced with The Boston Pops. They protected me. But when the Mormons came, The Boston Pops out of nowhere decide to move. Why?
The Mormons. They must have used their magic underwear to telepathically plant the idea of moving in the BP’s head. It took a little over a year but the devil finally sent someone to come and collect my soul. The Mormons asked me to pray. I am not a praying man. It’s strange to talk to nothing and expect something to happen. I did though. I prayed one night to God. A very strange thing. Strange mainly because I haven’t pray in years or as I told them,
I’ve done pretty good without him for 18 years.
It didn’t spook them. In fact, they were quite pleased. That little tidbit of information is candy to these devil worshipers. I haven’t spoken to God in 18 years and that is good for them. I have less of a chance of being heard. God could just sweep me under the rug and let me pay the crime of soul selling. I was wrong about being passed over. It turns out God is pretty forgiving. The night I prayed, I basically asked God for a sign. I wanted to know about the Mormon religion. I was not looking to join their church. When I first met with Mormons and talked to them, I was sort of intrigued about their religion. I wanted to know more about them and how it differs from what I was brought up to believe in. I wasn’t going to join. I don’t know. The whole thing is complicated. I ended my prayer and went to bed. I expected nothing of it. I expected my pray to go unanswered and I will go on living like normal and eventually face the fact that my soul is now property of the devil and Hell will be my final resting place for ever and ever…
The morning comes and I go to work. Nothing special. It’s a nice day. I am going about my duties when a customer beckons for me to come over. I walk over. I’ve only talked to him once but it was about his marriage and smoked salmon. No topic of religion ever came up. Anyway, the conversation went something like this.
Him: Do you have the internet at home?
Him: I was told to give this to you. My boss (points to the heavens) told me to give this to you.
His boss is God! I take the business card. He talks more about his boss and how his boss is great. Told me his boss cured him and saved him from the two strokes he had. I am not a religious person. I don’t look for signs from God and certainly, I won’t be buying what some brainwashed kids in magic underwear have to say to me. But I am truthful about this happening. I prayed for a sign about the Mormons and I was given a card with the following message on the back.
We are not fighting against humans. We are fighting against forces and authorities and against rulers of darkness and powers in the spiritual world. Ephesians 6:12 (CEV)
Pretty self explanatory. The message is clear. The Mormons are evil and they are going to drag me to Hell. I need to get away and finally tell these two boys that I will not follow them. I will not continue to read your book. You’re not going to get my soul. I got the message from God. He told me that they are up to no good. It is now up to me to end these meetings I have with the Elders. I have to fight against the forces and authorities and against the rulers of darkness. They must be stopped.
But wait. You said earlier that if you have your ying, you’ll need your yang. I did say that. It is possible that the Samoans are the good guys in all of this. They could be congregating all about the complex not to infest this place with their islander ways but they may be setting up safe havens and watch towers to warn those about the impeding Mormon doom. I am not aware of their plans. I didn’t ask God about them. Like I said. God and I don’t really talk much. God could get all huffy if I ask him questions like a 5-year-old does with its’ parents.
The Mormons are due to come over tomorrow. They will talk to me and I will say nothing. I won’t push them out of the house or scream Latin phrases at them. I’ll chicken out and invite them over the next week. They’ll keep coming and I’ll keep getting sucked in more and more, till I wind up wearing a backpack and short-sleeve shirt. That, or I’ll end up on some altar in their temple and be sacrificed and then I’ll meet my fate at the hand of a ceremonial, Moroni dagger.
I apologize if this was a lengthy post. I just wanted to get you up to date with everything and finally reveal how the Mormons fit into all this. With the Boston Pops now gone (story coming soon), I am now left to fend off the Mormons and the Samoans alone. There is still no telling if the Samoans are good and if they’ll end up living next door. I have a month before the apartment becomes available. I have 30 days to fix the Mormon problem and 30 days to figure out what the Samoans agenda truly is. Hell might break loose. The Dead Zombie Wife could venture out of her wall cocoon. Carlos could make himself seen. Way too many things could happen. Way too much could go wrong and when things go wrong, people get hurt. I could be faced with a huge dilemma. All the spooks I deal with might come out of hiding since the Boston Pops departed. Please pray for me. I don’t know if I can deal with this. I need to deal with the matter at hand. Give me the strength to rid myself of the Elders and the wicked words that spew from their forked tongues.
Mosiah 4:27 And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order. The Book Of Mormon