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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Comedy · #1850209
2 sisters go on a road trip to the Wild West in search of Mormon boys to marry.
There were 2 sisters. What’s important to know is that the 2 sisters went on a road trip out to the Wild West. At night they parked their car at a lonesome rest stop pull off where there were bathrooms, but no vending machines. They laid on their backs on the picnic table with a single unzipped sleeping bag covering their bodies.
         The younger sister pointed at the stars and asked her older sister, “What’s that one, Elder-Elder?”
         The older sister told her younger sister, “That one Elder, that one is Nick Drake.”
         Tilting her arm, and redirecting the aim of her index finger, the younger sister asked, “and that one Elder-Elder? What about that one?”
         “That one,” the older sister told her younger sister, “that one Elder, is Brad Renfro.”
         “Wow,” the younger sister gasped in amazement. “Brad Renfro.” Pointing towards a different star, she asked, “who’s that one Elder-Elder?”
         “No more tonight, Elder. I’m tired.”
         “Aw, c’mon. Just one more please?”
         “Okay, fine. One more and that’s it. Which one were you pointing at now?”
         “That star, Elder-Elder. That star right there.”
         “That star,” the older sister told her younger sister, “that one is Liza Minelli”
         “Gee whiz, Liza Min - wait a tick. Liza Minelli’s not dead yet.”
         “She’s not?”
         “No you big dummy. She’s still alive.”
         “I’m sorry, I’m tired. I didn’t get a good enough look at it. Let me see again. Oh, okay, you mean that one, that star. That star is,” (pause for dramatic effect) “Amy Winehouse.”
         What’s also important to know about the 2 sisters is that they took a road trip out to the Wild West because they desperately wanted to marry devoted and faithful Mormon boys. They wanted to marry Mormon boys so badly that the sisters began addressing each other as Elder. The older sister decided to go by Elder-Elder since she was older. The younger sister, because she was younger, simply went by Elder. The 2 sisters liked to drink. Elder-Elder was a big fan of vodka, while Elder preferred whiskey. Although the 2 sisters desperately wanted to marry devoted and faithful Mormon boys, they had done very little research on the Mormon faith before their road trip out to the Wild West.
         The 2 sisters were from Pittsburgh Pennsylvania.
         In the morning the 2 sisters were awoke by a skittering sound. The skittering sound was caused by bugs crawling around on top of their sleeping bag. There were a lot of bugs. Hundreds of’em. There were so many bugs that they covered the green polyester fabric.
         Elder-Elder woke up, ripped off the sleeping bag, and tossed it to the ground. “Wake up Elder.”
         “What is it Elder-Elder?”
         “Bugs. Hundreds of’em.”
         All the bugs looked the same. Some were click-clack flying around with veiny wax paper wings. Others were creeping across the picnic table with their spindly and sharp little legs, and probing the cracks with their segmented antennas. One bug landed on the back of Elder-Elder’s hand. “I know what this insect is. It’s a kind of cricket. I know what this kind of cricket is called,” she told her younger sister.
         “What’s it called?”
         “This kind of cricket is called a Mormon Cricket.”
         “Good to know.”
         The sleeping bag was piled on the ground. Elder-Elder knelt down to grab a corner and Elder grabbed the other. They stood and flapped the fabric just once. A black and green clicking cloud of Mormon Crickets dissipated into the big blue Wild West sky.
         Elder-Elder drove the car while Elder sat in the front passenger seat chain smoking Sonoma cigarettes. They didn’t listen to the radio and they didn’t talk to each other either. Elder-Elder abhorred smoking. She thought it was a filthy habit. The car got good gas milage because it was a 2 door sedan, but it was kind of rusted at the bottom of the doors.
         “You know Elder, we’ll never be able to marry devoted and faithful Mormon boys if you keep smoking.”
         “Never-ever, Elder-Elder?”
         “Mormons abhor smoking. They think it’s a filthy habit.”
         The sisters drove and drove for a long time. Mostly what they saw out the windows was flat land covered by tall dead brown grass. Sometimes there was a little bit of a curve in the highway and they passed a hill covered by tall dead brown grass. Most of the vehicles they passed were semi-trucks, but those were getting few and farther and farther between. Sometimes they passed a pick-up truck too. Elder would crane her neck to catch a glance at the driver and passengers. If any of them were male, Elder asked Elder-Elder, “I wonder if that guy was Mormon.”
         “Probably,” Elder-Elder would say easing up on the accelerator.
         They approached a town and Elder-Elder said, “Welp, better pull off here and Fuel up.”
         The town was exactly 1 block long. Aside from the gas station, there was also a pizza place, a bar, a rock shop, a gallery of Wild West memorabilia, and a chamber of commerce. Elder-Elder stopped her car at pump 3 and went in the gas station to pay the attendant. “I’d like to put 37.50 on pump 3 please,” she said.
         “37.50 it is.”
         “I was wondering if you could help me with some directions sir.”
         “Sure thing buckeroo.”
         “Where am I?”
         “Say, you look like you’re from back East. Are you from back East?”
         “That’s none of your concern. I was wondering if you could help me find something.”
         “What are you trying to find, lil lady?”
         “Where in this town do you keep your Mormon boys?”
         “In this town? Shooooo, there ain’t much of anything in this town, and there especially ain’t no Mormons.”
         “Could you tell me where I could find some?”
         “You could try Rexburgh. That’s in Idaho. I guess just about anywhere in Utah would be your best bet. Why don’t you go there?”
         “Because sir, I’m traveling with my younger sister and we both like to drink. She likes whiskey while I prefer vodka, and it’s exceedingly difficult to get either in Utah.”
         “Well pardon me fer pryin’ miss, but if you like to drink so much why the hell are you looking for Mormon boys?”
         “That’s none of your concern.” Elder-Elder got back in the car and told her younger sister, “There’s nothing but a bunch of rubes in this town.”
         They drove to the chamber of commerce. The bugs, the Mormon Crickets, were back again. Ascending and spiraling in irregular lopes like charred wood splinters through the big blue Wild West sky. During the short drive to the chamber of commerce, no fewer than 27 Mormon Crickets splattered against the windshield.”
         “The bugs again, Elder.”
         “Bugs, Elder-Elder?”
         “The Mormon Crickets. The god damn Mormon Crickets.”
         The sidewalk roasted by the big sky sun was crawling with the bugs. Walking to the chamber of commerce, Elder-Elder purposely stepped on more than 12, while Elder accidentally stepped on less than 3.
         Entering the chamber of commerce, the door had not yet closed behind them when a young man leapt up from his chair and yelled, “THANK GOD YOU 2 SHOWED UP!”
         “We were wondering if you could help us,” Elder-Elder said.
         The young man said, “Do you have any idea how boring it is being the director of the chamber of commerce in a town whose only commerce is a pizza place, a bar, a gas station, and a rock shop? The gallery of Wild West Memorabilia operates on a suggested donation basis only.”
         “Do you have any Mormon Boys?” Elder-Elder asked.
         The young man said, “let me check our Census data. We have the records from 1890 on file in the back room.” He went into the back room. The sisters heard the sounds of drawers being opened and papers being shuffled.
         “I want to fool around with the young man,” Elder-Elder whispered to her younger sister.
         “Why? He’s not even good looking.”
         “I want to do some serious necking with that young man.”
         “Why? he’s doesn’t even look like he’s Mormon.”
         “Maybe we can do it in my car. Maybe he can recommend a good place for me to park my car before we do it.”
         “Bad news ladies,” the young man said approaching them with an opened cardboard box. “I couldn’t find the Mormon Census information you were looking for, but I did find a box of promotional bumper stickers. The name of this town is on them.”
         “What is the name of this town,” Elder asked.
         “Where are we anyway,” Elder-Elder asked.
         “I don’t know,” the director of the chamber of commerce said. “It says on the bumper sticker. Take one if you like. Free of charge.”
         “What’s with all these Mormon Crickets outside,” Elder-Elder asked.
         “Mormon Crickets?”
         “The bugs.” Elder said.
         “The bugs? Oh, you mean the salmon flies,” the young man said. “All those bugs out there are called Salmon flies.”
         “I thought they were all called Mormon Crickets,” Elder-Elder said.
         “Maybe they were a long time ago. But maybe the Mormons didn’t like it, so they changed the name from Mormon Crickets to Salmon Flies. Say, you 2 ladies seem pretty hot-to-trot for Mormons. How’s come?”
         Elder said, “We’re looking for devoted and faithful Mormon boys to marry us.
         Elder-Elder asked, “Are you Mormon?”
         The young man’s answer was an enthusiastic, “ABSOLUTELY!”

         It was night time. The younger sister Elder laid on her back on a picnic table at a rest stop pull off. The sky was clear. It was full of stars. Elder was lonesome. The sky was so clear she could see the hazy arch of the Milky Way. The rest stop pull off had bathrooms, but no vending machines. Trash cans were evenly spaced apart along the perimeter of the gravel parking lot. The younger sister Elder was lonesome because her older sister Elder-Elder wasn’t laying next to her.
         Elder-Elder was a few dozen yards away rolling around with the young man from the chamber of commerce in the tall dead brown grass. They had their arms wrapped around each other and they were kissing each other. The young man tried to put his hands down her pants.
         “Not so fast pad’ner,” Elder-Elder said.
         The young man told her to relax. “It’s supposed to feel good,” he said.
         “Are you looking for a good woman to make your wife?” Elder-Elder asked. “Are you looking for a good woman who will join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and follow the ways of the book of Mormon with faithful devotion?”
         “Yes. Of course. Absolutely, and I think you’re just that woman.” he kissed her and tried to make out with her, but she pulled away.
         “I need to know something,” Elder-Elder said. “What can you tell me about the highest tier of celestial afterlife in the Mormon faith?”
         “Gee whiz babe, you just won’t let up.”
         “Tell me.”
         “It gets me all wet down there,” she lied.
         “You can only climb up to it with a ladder day saint?” The young man was grasping at straws. He could see Elder-Elder was not amused. She sat up and picked bits of dead grass out of her hair. “I hate to hafta break it to you,” he said. “I really REALLY hate to hafta break it to you. My dad’s a lapsed Catholic and my mom’s a non-practicing Jew, and they both live in Rockport Illinois. I’m not a Mormon. I’m the director of the chamber of commerce in a town that barely has any commerce. I’m a nuffin.”
         Elder-Elder folder her arms and said, “you just blew it with me, buddy.”
         The younger sister Elder laying on the picnic table heard the young man’s footsteps crunch through the tall dead brown grass. She heard his footsteps crunch across the gravel parking lot. She heard him get into his car and turn the engine. The younger sister Elder watched the car pull away. The red tail lights got swallowed up in the vast Wild West black.
         The older sister Elder-Elder returned. She laid on her back on the picnic table next to her younger sister Elder. Elder redistributed the sleeping bag so it covered both their bodies. “How’d it go Elder-Elder?”
         “He wasn’t even Mormon.”
         “Figures. I could tell.”
         “And he reeked of cigarettes.”
         “That’s lousy.”
         Elder-Elder looked up to the stars. “There’s a lot out tonight, Elder.”
         The older sister outstretched her arm and pointed skyward. “See that one. That’s Jay Retard.”
         “Wow. Jay Retard. Who else is up there, Elder-Elder?”
         “And that one. That’s Marilyn Monroe.”
         “Ol’ Norman Jeane. She shines so brightly.”
         “And over there, that’s GG Allin.”
         “Poor GG. He was so hated in the Nation.”
         “And in that cluster, just in that cluster alone is John Kennedy Toole, Patsy Cline, Sylvia Plath, Elliot Smith, Buddy Holly and Sid Vicious.”
         Elder raised her arm and points skyward too. “What about that one Elder-Elder?”
         “The one’s nothing. That one is just a satellite.”
         “Oh. Sorry.”
         “But that other one, that big one there. That one is Brittany Murphy.”
         The sisters were silent for a while, the the younger sister asked, “none of the stars we’ve seen are Mormons are they?”
         “That’s true. I guess they’re not.”
         The sisters from Pittsburgh Pennsylvania who took a road trip out to the Wild West suddenly felt unburdened by this wonderful revelation. They quickly fall into a solid and restful sleep.
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