Quentin was once a small boy, but now he is a big boy, six foot four to be exact. He lounges about all day watching videos instead of seeing his Mother. They are teaching him funny things, those videos. Like stealing things. I wonder why he watches them? He used to be a good boy, but since the mafia took over in his life and taught him to lie, he has gone downhill. Don't watch that video, Quentin!!!!
I want you to be good. Here is a video for you to watch, I'll make it for you at the end. But first, here's the script. My, my, that had quick results. Oh, he turned me off. Perhaps he's gone to get a sandwich, his standby maneuvre to calm down when things get hectic in the house of the damned, as I call them. They do nice things, but they're damned, don't you know, because they don't read their scriptures, I think. Or perhaps it's the headchopping. Either way, I want him out of there once a day, seeing me you think. I realise he has a busy life, watching all those videos. So I'm making this for him, to keep him busier, watching good videos if that's all he's up to!!
My name is Moron, he says to himself, this character. To a Mormon that is a good name. It is in the scriptures, so it must be a great person as he was someone good I know not, but assume or he wouldn't be in there with such a name as that! Who is he? Let's see what we can make up about his life or lives if he lived again as an angel on earth. Oh, Moroni, there it is, that's who I meant. I haven't read about Moron recently, or was it Moroni, my favourite character out of the Book of Mormon.
My name is Moroni, and I am a character out of the end of the Book of Mormon and had a lot of trials to go through, says Joanne. Who hasn't? I don't know any who haven't! You'd think we'd all be empathic people, slipshod not in our kindness. The telephone in my head is telling me the Lacrosse girls of the team I want so badly to join are on the line. They play on Sunday. Will I be going is what I am wondering if they are asking? Do I go? No, you go to the synagogue on Sunday, THEN you go to Lacrosse. It all fits in. And in off season, you do Hula to keep your tummy firm. You know that slipshod tummy of yours. Too many milkshakes at Macdonald, you know. Oh, well, my Mother made me good at sit-ups at a late age. If I'd started at three, I'd be fine, but who knew? She didn't know, and I didn't either. Oh, well, there we are, as she'd say. She was a mafia princess and I wasn't, you say, so it makes a difference to her destiny eternally in the heavens, that is, if she tried to help me have a flat tummy. She was always telling me to sit up straight and pull my shoulders back and my tummy in, as if that helped. I could do everything fine, except the tummy pulled in part, and that failed miserably! I haven't got any stomach muscles in labour you say to push the baby out, father Henk, but I know I do or I wouldn't be the fastest birther in the West in the past and now not necessarily. My Mother was right, I need to sit up straight and pull my shoulders back, but pull my tummy in, I don't know if I'm a bad Jew, but I'm a good Mormon, I just don't know Moroni very well. And that's the installment for today.
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