Stealing Jesus
Well well well, here we go again. Me having to write about what’s happened throughout my week. Keep in mind, aside from every story I tell about something BONKERS that happened, it’s us doing the work, spreading the good work and trying to get people to listen. So rather than talk about the same thing I do every day, I share the things that AREN’T the same every week. Well, here I go looking through my journal to see what has happened to us this time:
So, the background to this story is that, outside of every missionary apartment is a picture of Jesus, for multiple reasons, first being cuz Jesus rocks, and second is so missionaries know where all the other missionaries live and stuff like that. And that’s why we have one at our apartment! Yeah so someone stole ours. Like Swiper the Fox. They just snagged it. And it’s not like they were off into the night with it after they did. THEY WERE OUR NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR. They took it off of our little paper holder thing, walked 10 feet to their door, and stuck it on. I’ll admit, it’s a bold move. Especially since (1) you’re stealing a PICTURE of JESUS, which should like, click as you’re taking it off of someone else’s door that it’s the wrong thing to do, and (2) because we literally know exactly who did it. Imagine stealing someone else’s car, and parking it down the street. Or another scenario is that someone else had the idea to take our picture of Jesus, and put it on our neighbors door. Which, I’m not quite sure why you would do it, but then again this is Okla freakin’ homa, and nothing makes sense down here.
Then later this week we went up to Oklahoma City and did “New Missionary Graduation”, so I am no longer considered a new missionary, which is good because I’m actually the smartest person ever, and that title was holding me back. Anyways, we had to practice teaching all the lessons to other people, and it turns out that for a little part of the lesson, I was literally teaching false doctrine. I was straight telling this person stuff that isn’t true. Which I only found out AFTER I had finished the lesson. I retract my statement pertaining to my intellect. But we’re all human, at least most of us.
But yeah, while we were up there I got a little card that lets me drive while I’m a missionary. So Mad Max is back fools. They can’t contain my fuel effective off-roading any longer.
Alright, this next one’s on me. A little bit. Not really. But I end up having to step up and clean all of the dishes that my comps didn’t clean. I cleaned mine (hope you’re proud mom), but they didn’t clean theirs. And it was now at the point that we were basically creating our own moss and fungus farm in the sink. But I end up just saying, “Alright chums, time’s up let’s do this” and I get down to it. However, we’re poor, and we don’t have a washcloth. And I realize that as I’m getting to the point of needing to clean the counters and the stove, which looked like a Chernobyl replica, I needed fabric that could wipe. So I go scrounging for some kind of rag or something, and I find the top part of a white dress shirt, which looks like the highest crop top of all time. But I’m like, “Yeah this is a rag, this doesn’t belong to anyone here, nobody will care if I use it to clean the oven top battlefield of 1914.”
Now, it turns out that it was NOT a rag, and DID belong to someone, and they WOULD care if I used it to clean the stove. But Past Zaque didn’t know that, homie was just trying to fix this place up, make it spic and span for when Jesus pulls up to the crib. So I proceed to thoroughly and royally MESS THIS SHIRT UP MAN. If it wasn’t a rag before, it sure was now. It had more stains than a 9-year-old kid’s shirt after a good summer day. So I finally finish, and the kitchen is now officially CLEAN. The shirt, very much NOT CLEAN, but the tradeoff seemed way worth it to me.
Elder Spillman does what he does best, and shows up to help when I’ve already done everything myself. He sees the blood, sweat, and tears of my hard labors on the ground, the countertops so clean you could play shuffleboard off those bad boys, and this tattered mass of dirt in my quaking right hand. He’s like, “Where did you get that rag?” as he pointed to my latest Shamwow product. “I just found it on the ground, placed there by one of you dirty dolittles.” Well, turns out that the “rag” was actually Elder Marler’s fake white shirt that he wears under sweaters, so he doesn’t have to wear an actual white dress shirt. So, there I am, clutching the rag formerly known as Elder Marler’s sweater shirt, and looking at the catastrophe on Elder Spillman’s horrified face. He was scared. He was more than scared, he was trembling as he was mentally preparing for the confrontation of Elder Marler that was brought about my choices. But not me. No sir, not me. That 5 foot 9 hunk of snips, snails, and puppy dog tails couldn’t do anything to a man of my caliber. But it was a fight I wasn’t gonna be excited for. So I made a tactical call, and decided to just leave it near the sink, to use later, hoping that Elder Marler would just come to accept that he no longer had a sweater shirt, and we now had a new rag for cleaning dishes. I’ve let that stand as a statement against any and all that are unwilling to actually clean their dishes, to show them the consequences of failing to live in cleanliness. Elder Marler also still doesn’t know that it used to be his, so that helps.
Now, I could explain this next story, but I’ll just sum it up real quick. I went to send my package to my family, and I ended up getting approached by this random guy that I straight thought was gonna shoot me. He asked what church we were missionaries for, and when I said the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he said, “Oh I thought you guys were Mormons. If you were I woulda messed you up.” And he got back in his car. So yay for confusion, which ended up saving me from getting “messed up”. And I got to talk with him alone because my companions BOTH got in the car and decided to not get out until he had left. Snakes in a car, gonna be a spin off movie I make based on this true story.
Well, those are some long stories, but I hope anyone actually reading this enjoys them. Have a great week, and I’ll try to actually get shot next time, so the story is more entertaining. Catch you guys next time!
Over and Out
SHOUTOUTS:
Nick: My boy Nick. Nick requested a shoutout via smoke signal, so he’s getting in on the action. Nick is my hookup with the real world, and tells me about what’s happening back in Colorado, the coolest state in the US. He’s way sick, and a real homie.
Hermana Salazar: She’s a sister missionary, but if you’re also spanish-speaking, you are called an Hermana. She requested specifically being shouted out for having an army jacket that she found at Goodwill. Stay thrifty out there, kids.