Designated Sabbath Breaker

Monday, August 28, 2006

My brother-in-law Christopher finally managed to knock his wife up. Thank God too since they've been trying to shoot one past the goalie for almost six months and she's pushing twenty-three and they've been married for 2 years already. This more-public-than-is-comfortable process even got so desperate that one woman in their ward suggested that it might not be too long before they should look into adopting.

All this fuss of course implies that her womanhood can only be validated by having children early and often. Otherwise she's nothing more than a priesthood-less vagina relegated to a life of sex not for procreation but -gasp- pleasure alone. The kind of woman destined to inspire the return of polygamy so her righteous husband can have a woman worthy of bearing his children. So... yeah, thank God for small miracles.

Now that she's a few weeks along she's begun craving strange and exotic foods. Christopher, being the good husband, runs to the store at all hours to fulfill the sudden and unusual cravings. I'm no stranger to this myself having made the half-awake excursion to 7-11 in my pajamas for Slurpees and beef jerky more than a few times.

Sunday, while visiting our home, Christopher's wife was overcome with a taste for chips and salsa. But not any chips and any salsa, Tostito's Bite Size Scoops and Condie's Fresh Made Mild Salsa.

"Crap! It's Sunday", she said, defeated. Then a revelation struck her. "Pete, will you go to the store for me? I'd send Christopher but... you know... Sunday." A brilliant plan, really since I already have my express ticket to hell pre-paid and my seats near the front reserved. God would hardly even notice me at the store since he has long since abandoned me because... you know... apostate.

I answered, "Of course, I'm happy to run to the store for you any time. But I want you to keep something in mind... The husband who hires a hit man to kill his wife is also guilty of murder."

"What?"

"What I mean is... What is the difference between me going to the store on Sunday on your behalf and you going yourself? Nothing, right?"

"I guess not."

"OK, as long as we're clear on that. Is there anything else I can pick up for you while I'm there?"

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