Nothing gives me quite so much of a thrill as when I open my door to Mormons; so crisp and young and full of hope.
“Could we talk to you about Jesus Christ?” they ask.
“My goodness yes, you could,” I say. “Can my boyfriend join us, he’s Buddhist, will that be a problem?”
In days gone by that would be enough to send your average Mormon scurrying out my front gate, but your modern Mormon is more resilient. So, before their well pressed uniforms get comfortable on my couch I bring in a second wave.
“You know, Jesus was a hipster: long beard, sandals, into all those causes. Always trying to be the centre of attention – Hey, look at me, I’m so much better than you because I’m trying to change the world. I think if he was alive today he’d probably be one of those Youtubers.”
At this point the Mormon boys begin to show concern. They’re obviously on a schedule for this neighbourhood and my opening gambit has alerted them I may go over my allotted time.
That’s when my boyfriend arrives and I turn to him in all seriousness and say, “Look what was just delivered to our door. I thought I’d wait and give you first choice.”
“Make sure you shut the gate on your way out,” I call, as the Mormon boys scramble over each other trying to be first out the door.