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	<title>Two Hawks Quarterly &#187; Mormon</title>
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	<description>A Literary Uprising</description>
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		<title>Friend of the Devil by Tim Doody</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2009/08/20/friend-of-the-devil-by-tim-doody/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2009/08/20/friend-of-the-devil-by-tim-doody/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 20 Aug 2009 17:51:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Creative Non-Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[faggot]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[missionaries]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mormon]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[salacious]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I can’t tell you when I first began lusting after boys, but I do know that my parents converted to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints when I was four. I’m not saying the two things are related, just that they happened concurrently. I don’t recall liking, in any but the big brotherly way, the two 19-year-old missionaries who knocked on the suburban door of my childhood home and promised salvation. My parents reacted to them far more strongly than I: within weeks, we were Mormon. During the following years, we absorbed “gospel principles” and dedicated increasing allotments of time to church activities. When I was seven years old, my family got “sealed together for all time and eternity” in a Mormon temple. The stewards dressed us head-to-toe in white—even our belts and shoes—and they all smiled. We walked down a corridor filled with painted clouds and knelt in a ceremony room I can scarcely remember but for gilded accents and an altar of some type in the center. Afterwards, in the cafeteria, my family ate saucer-sized cookies. When I asked my mother if this was what Heaven was like, she said, It’s got to be pretty close, [...]]]></description>
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