So, my car has been in the shop for the past four or five weeks and I've been taking rides from friends and the like. I'm standing outside my place of business today, waiting for my ride, and a rather cracked-out looking woman approaches me. Her hair was disheveled, she looked like she hadn't slept in a week or so, and she had spittle in the corners of her mouth. As I took in this old bat's appearance, I realized she was looking at me with equal interest. As she got closer, I noticed a faint odor, then she opened her mouth, and I was assaulted by some of the worst breath I've ever encountered.
"You a Mormon?"
Now, I almost threw away a golden opportunity. "No, I'm a business manager." But I cut that one off before it leapt from my vocal chrods. Instead, I replied "Why yes ma'am. Are you looking for the truth about Jesus' life in America?" Crazy people make the best marks too, their creativity is boundless. I honestly think they enjoy it.
"But don't you guys all believe in having six wives and shit?"
"No, no, no. Of course not! What we do believe, is that God wants us all to be happy." We sit down on the bench nearby. "We're his children, and he wants us to do what makes us happy. If having more than one wife does that for you, then have more than one wife. We just think people should do whatever they want, as long as it makes them happy and causes no pain."
"Shit. What if the women don't want to share you?"
"Well, if they're women of God and good Saints, then they'll accept the offer knowing it's what God intends."
"So what if I want to do drugs, and murder, and all kinds of crazy stuff?"
"Well, if it makes you happy, and doesn't make unwilling participants out of anyone, then it's blessed with God's holy grace and saving love." Thank God, the fiancee showed up. "I've got to go now, peace be with you!"
"But how do I join?"
"Look us up in the phone book, I'm all out of pamphlets. The Church of Latter Day Saints!"

I can see it now. That lady's gonna roll up to her local Mormon organization with her crack pipe in hand and an economy pack of French ticklers. "So when do we start the healing?"

I must admit though, that I was a little insulted that the lady thought I dressed like a missionary. I mean, I assume that's why she asked me int he first place. Great, I dress like a dickwad prosthletizer.