When the doorbell rang I was not ready for what was about to happen next. I was not prepared because I had just woken up from my very comfortable bed, and ran to the door without a shirt.  I rubbed my eyes with my hands before reaching for the doorknob, and to my unpleasing surprise there was a group of Mormons preaching to me outside of the door!

            “This is very awkward…” I said quietly to myself, while they ranted on and on about the 9^th day in Noah’s ark on the endless sea.  I don’t have anything against other religions, especially Mormons since my aunt is one of them. The problem was that when they came to my door asking for my dad, and start preaching before asking, it is very frustrating and annoying because I don’t have the guts to say “go away!!!” To sum it all up I could not understand their accents, for some reason it seemed like they weren’t even speaking English. When my mind finally woke up, I realized they were actually speaking Spanish to me! What were the odds of there being Spanish preaching Mormons at the foot of my house? I was getting more and more frustrated every single second of their rants about Noah and Joseph Smith; I had no desire, in a Saturday morning, to listen to another religion’s beliefs, mainly because there were a lot of things in my own religion that I did not fully understand, which is roman catholic by the way. My brother came down from his room, with his stylish glasses, and asked me in Spanish what was going on.

            “Oh, we were speaking to this very polite young man which seems to be your brother, about the bible! Here’s a pamphlet and a magazine about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The man, which seemed to be the leader of the small group, said to my older brother while handing him objects with a bright smile on his face. Suddenly the magazine began to multiply and fuze to my skin. After a few seconds the room hallway was flooded with LDS magazines and my brother’s terrified holler for air while the pamphlets angrily devoured him alive. Out of nowhere, plastic soldiers in the middle of a mini-war fell out of my ceiling, which lit the magazines on fire, in turn getting rid of them. Then a flashingly fast narwhal named Jerry jumped out of the T.V. room, in a Barny the dinosaur style, and yelled,

            “WAKE UP!!!WAAAKE UUUP!!!”

Finally, being woken up by Jerry flew violently out of my bed and hit the wall.

            “Oh, it was all a dream. Thank the lord…” I said while allowing my heart rate to go back to it’s normal. But then, after I thought it was too good to be true, the doorbell rang once again.

The end