The Mormons
By Michael Griffin and Tom Harris

   By noon they were at my doorstep. Mormons always flock to my house. They gather like flies and eat until their hunger is sated. They annoy me. What do you think I should do to these evil Mormons?
    I have a small hamster, but he is dead, so he is not of much use. I have a vat of ketchup, but it is of no use because it is favored by Mormons. I wish those evil, stinking Mormons would leave, but they never will. Sometimes I get so angry, I want to get a gun and shoot at their bicycles. Instead, I have my dog, Bo-Bo, pee constantly on my lawn, hoping that they will leave. Instead, they enjoy watching him pee! They are cheering now! Bo-Bo likes them to watch.
    My neighbors think that Mormons are delightful. They scoff at me, and that pisses me off! Why can't they mind their own business, which is playing tetherball and drinking warm milk?
    The reason that I hate Mormons is that when I was a fetus, Mom was drinking warm milk when she was playing tetherball, and got hit by the ball at midnight. Bad things always happen to Mom, that's why she's a Mormon. I hate Mormons! Do you?
     You seem like a nice person, so help me get rid of these evil creatures. We'll annihilate them thusly:
     First, we'll get a hammer and club them like peasants. Then, we'll surprise them with coffee laced with alcohol. Such blatant fun would certainly horrify Mormons, and then they would flee.                
                                                        -- the End --

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