Frothing at the Mouth 

Church President Monson convenes a root-beer summit.

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Prophet, seer, and revelator Thomas Monson used all of his considerable powers of persuasion to bring together the parties in the now-notorious “Church Plaza kiss” episode. Termed the “root-beer summit,” the meeting took place last Thursday in the leafy inner courtyard of the Lion House, according to church spokesman Melchezedik “Dick” Pratt.

Initially, there were serious doubts as to whether the summit would take place. Highly placed church insiders say some of the General Authorities expressed adamant opposition to such a summit.

“It’s a slippery slope,” opined one apostle known for his iron-rod views and righteous demeanor. “First, you talk to these self-described ‘gay’ people, and the next thing you know, we’re playing show tunes at sacrament meeting.” In the end, however, the more moderate Liahona apostles prevailed—but only after agreeing to have the grounds of the Lion House sprayed with a powerful antiseptic after the visit of the gay participants.

“We love those boys,” said an apostle, “but that doesn’t mean we are obliged to expose ourselves to any dangerous homosexual hormones.”

Details are sketchy as to everything that transpired at the root-beer summit, but City Weekly has been able to piece together a general account of the meeting. After everyone was comfortably seated (Mr. Jones and Mr. Aune were assigned chairs sufficiently at a distance to preclude hand-holding or footsy finagling), trays of root beer and vanilla ice cream were brought in by modestly dressed young women. Participants had their choice of A&W, Hires, or Shasta root beer, and Meadow Gold, Dreyer’s or Western Family vanilla ice cream.

As the ice cream melted in the afternoon heat, President Monson gave a stirring opening prayer. At least one of the beefy security guards who had wrestled the slight Mr. Jones to the ground on the night in question seemed to grow impatient with President Monson’s giving thanks for the rich and creamy ice cream and the foamy root beer; the security guard was observed peeking at the ice cream (thought to be the Meadow Gold brand) growing milky at the margins of the already opened carton.

After his prayer, President Monson, who is justly renowned for his storytelling abilities, told a humorous anecdote about an earlier root-beer summit convened by Brigham Young in July of 1857. It seems a pair of traveling acrobats from San Francisco got in trouble for practicing the devilishly difficult four-legged somersault in an alley behind the Beehive House. Brigham Young’s personal bodyguard and swimming companion, Orrin Porter Rockwell, caught a glimpse of the intertwined acrobats and jumped to the conclusion that they were indulging in a notorious French practice that he had heard tell of from a returned missionary. Unlike the latter-day security guards, Brother Orrin did not merely wrestle the acrobats to the ground; he gave the hapless duo a thumping to within an inch of their lives.

Although videotapes of the incident have disappeared, Brother Brigham, knowing of Orrin’s propensity to fly off the handle, gave the acrobats the benefit of the doubt and, instead of booting them back to San Francisco, offered them a joint appointment as entertainers-in-residence, noting at the time that he was worn out trying to keep his numerous wives amused.

President Monson then invited the participants either to share a humorous anecdote of their own or to bear their testimonies. Reports are contradictory as to who spoke and what exactly was said, but everyone agrees that one of the burly security guards just wanted to say that he couldn’t understand why the homosexual guys wanted to engage in a public display of affection.

“I’ve been with my wife for 19 years now ever since I came back from by mission to t h e Central States,” he said, profusely sweating and scooping a heap of ice cream into a glass half-filled with Hires root beer, “but I’ve never engaged in any public display of affection. In fact, I haven’t kissed her for years, even in private, and we’ve never been happier.”

As the root-beer summit drew to a close, President Monson suggested that everyone engage in a group hug, but after the looks of horror all around, he gave the benediction and dismissed the parties with the standard Mormon shoulder massage.

We have been unable to verify the report that one of the security guards has been text-messaging one or both of the plaza kissers, expressing the strange feeling of excitement he experienced when he wrestled them to the ground.

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