Last night I did what all sisters do at some point: I looked through my brother’s wallet to make sure he had pictures of me.
Luckily he did, but I don’t hold the prominent place in his wallet. The only person allowed to rank above me in the wallet is my mother.
The picture wasn’t my mother.
It was Jesus.
JESUS! IN MY BROTHER’S WALLET!
I’ve always said Mormon Jesus is way hotter than any other Jesus. He’s tan, fit and incredibly healthy looking. It’s like he’s been playing tennis doubles, not dying on a cross. Jesus is dreamy, but he’s still not allowed to be more beloved than I am.
He already has all the Catholics… does he really need my baby brother, too? Jesus isn’t perfect; he’s selfish.
He thinks just because he died for my brother’s sins means he gets top billing. It’s not like I wouldn’t die for my brother. Sure, there’d have to be a parade and a giant prize at the end, but I’d still do it. This selfless act deserves some recognition, right? RIGHT. I’m waiting until Chady-bear is asleep tonight and I’m stealing Jesus. That dude is going down. I’ll show him.