I've soiled my sacred garments. I fear I've fallen far. I have a pounding headache and just woke up in a bar. My clothes reek of tobacco. My heart races from caffeine. As I was born and raised a Mormon this is not my normal scene.


I was prospecting for new converts , going door to door, when I ran into a sort of girl I'd never met before. Her hair was fire engine red, at least the drapes I 'd say. Her blouse was silk and tightly stuffed in a most intriguing way.

She said that she was off to "church", would I care to come along? She said the spirit moved her there, a place of cheer and song. I sensed a soul that I could save and so I went along.


Soon I was drrinking  Jameson. I bought the house a round. It's amazing stuff, this alcohol, this new friend I have found. I was singing karaoke and was dancing on the bar. I guess I had a bit too much, oh, I have fallen far.

I woke up from my stupor- cotton mouthed, dazed and confused. I'd been overcome by demon ***, a thing I shouldn't use. There was somebody laying next to me, I feared it might be "Red".  Imagine my profound relief that it was a man instead. He said his name was Khalid and he'd come here from afar. He, too, had a Prophet who forbade drinks from the bar. It turns out he also met the girl, this "Red" of whom I speak. He 's been trying to convert her and he's been here since last week.