DiscussMormonism.com

From the Seattle Smut Writer community players comes our new game. The rules are simple, you have to come up with a clever back story to the picture below, and some how connect it to Mormonism. 500 (give or take a few) words or less. After a time, we’ll vote for the winner.

Okay?

Go.

Elder Jerald Elder, Sister Ellan Allen, Elder Freddrick Elder

The brothers Elder took Sister Allen to a party circa 1986 as an homage to the LDS polyandry of years gone past. To throw off the scent, they have disguised themselves as fans of the ban Flock of Sea Gulls, but the tell tale signs are there. Look closely and you will see them all. The missionary look is already entering the Elders Elder's wardrobe with horendously black shoes. Sister Allen proves her purity of body with her white shoes. The clothes of the trio betray their lack of style however. The 1980s were often rough fashion wise, sometimes even in the moment, rather than in hindsight. This is one of those occasions.

Similar to the times when the Amish go off the farm to sin, these fiesty Mormons have left the ward and are ready to light up the third-most wild Baptist social in Salt Lake City. Ginger ale bombs for all. The brothers Elder will always have the Night At The Roxbury style dance/assaults to remind them of their girl at home when they're on their missions, while Ellen Allen will write continually to Jerald while pining away for DeAngelo...she means Fredderick. Two years is such a long time. *Sigh*

The Pink and Grey Ball. Belva Mae sighed. Her grandmother had talked so wistfully of the Gold and Green Balls of her Mormon youth. Belva Mae had laughed at the cheesiness, but skip! Gold and Green was better than Pink and Grey! When the Stake Pres had announced the renaming, everyone in Scouts and YW’s politely held back any laughing. But Belva knew what was on everybody’s mind. "I know who’s got pink and grey balls,” snickered Casey Sorenson, “Brother Albrechtson, that’s who!”

Now here she was at the flippin’ dance. She and Kip Jorgenson had so carefully coordinated their pink and grey look. But that stinkin’ Casey Sorenson had to slink up and photo bomb them! Like black fit in with the theme!

“Hey guys,” Casey snickered, “I dosed the sherbet punch. You’ll be climbin’ the sisal, Belva!”

Hey, thanks for moving this to graveyard.

MrStakhanovite wrote:Hey, thanks for moving this to graveyard.

Really? Moving this thread to the Writer's workshop forum, which is a NEW forum that folks here specifically requested for WRITING exercises, games, articles, etc., is a graveyard?

I left a shadow for it from the main forum.

I moved it back. Good grief.

i love u liz

Elder O. B. Tuse (left) and Elder T. Hick (right) are American missionary companions serving in Ogden, Utah. Strangely, they both have copies of the same (above) photo hanging by their beds. Stranger still, they are both (unofficially) engaged to be married for time and all eternity to the same girl in the photo. And strangest of all, neither of them are wise to any of it.

Siblings, Kimball, Sarah and Jared, have been hanging around the cultural hall for hours. Their oldest sister, Emma, was sealed for time and all eternity that morning.

Here, at the wedding reception, their mother insisted that they stand together, in front of the pink temple mock-up, which their aunts and cousins had spent many hours in creating. Mom wanted a picture for them to always remember that their goal is to one day to stand at the real temple, and be married to a worthy Mormon, just like their sister Emma did that morning.

Kimball, who would rather be in a theater watching a Jackie Chan movie, is bored out of his mind. Sarah, who has always been mommy's favorite, is making a grand effort to look just like the women she has seen in pictures. You know, the ones they show you in primary of pioneers. Jared is grossed out that he has to stand there and touch his sister's arm. Whose dumb idea was that? Jared knows, and he's giving them the best stink eye he can.

The photo is snapped, and copies made for everyone.

The high school graduation party was totally awesome. It was 1985 and this would be the last time Nemesis, Skylla and Pahoran would be together for a long time, and it made them MAD. Nemesis would be leaving shortly for his internship with Seattle Ghost Writer. Skylla and Pahoran were going to live “At The Beach” for a while and then spend some serious time working on their acne.

At school these three were inseparable and it was a literal nerd fest wherever they went. They always clung to each other as tightly as that three flavored string cheese they sell at Walmart that is orange, yellow and white. The orange and yellow probably being a mild Cheddar, and the white being a Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Swiss or just plain American, and it really doesn’t taste different from the orange or yellow, yet the cheese company would have you believe it does by coloring it differently. The cheese company must think we are idiots.

Skylla was especially going to miss this place and the many unique opportunities life in the city afforded. Nowhere else could you find a transgendered man wearing a turban with a Saturday’s Warrior jacket working in a lesbian bookstore, but hey Skylla was just glad Nemesis and Pahoran were able to find work.

Brian had always worn a beaver on his head. They were so warm, so furry, so friendly at unexpected times. Bella had always worn a batch of flowers on her stub. They were so cool, so fragrant, so um, flowery, at all the expected times. So it was no surprise when they fell in love.

Their eyes had met in Sacrament Meeting when they reached for the same piece of bread. Brian’s manly hand brushed up against Bella’s flower. She blushed. No one had ever touched her flower before. Bella realized that she should never have tried to spear the piece of sacred, blessed bread with the thorn on her wrist rose.

Brian had felt a burning before, but it had always been one of those Fast and Testimony kinds of burnings. Before, the burning had always been his bosom, when the Church was busy being true. This burning wasn’t in his bosom. Brian realized that this was a different kind of testimony. This was a testimony of who to ask to the dance.

“Bella, will you go with me to the dance?” he queried, while adjusting his beaver.

“Aye,” she replied, as was her wont. Bella liked to pretend she was a pirate maiden, sans hook.

She glanced at Brian’s beaver, and blushed again. She’d never known a boy to have a beaver, before.

Ironically, the dance was right after church in the same building, and ironically the decorations were already in place and so they wore the same clothes that they wore to church and everything.

That was when Moroni showed up. Not the Angel Moroni, but Moroni the devilishly diabolical deviant. Moroni, the boy who Bella had promised to go to the dance with. Moroni of the mean-boy look and the spiky, too-styled hair. Moroni, the boy with whom Bella had played pirate games. He had his hooks in her, so to speak. That Moroni.

“Moroni, meet Brian,” intoned beautiful Bella, blushing.

“Argh,” said Moroni, reverting to pirate talk under the stress of the meeting. “I see that God has intended for you two to be together, for you, Bella, have a stub with flowers, and you, Brian, have a beaver on your head.”

He continued speaking, while blinking back a copious number of tears, “Can I at least be in the photo with you? You two stand on the tape and I will stand here on the no tape.”

Little did Bella or Brian know that Moroni had surreptitiously super glued them all together. He had secretly sealed himself to them both. For time and all eternity.