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mango_fandango posted a blog entry in Fun Fun Fundies: Sims EditionThe Taylors finished their nasal singing at around the same time as we finished our main course. I could feel the grease around my mouth. "Christ on a cracker, fundies eat this stuff all the time?" Marissa asked, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. "Not all of them, some are very into healthy eating," Annie replied. "Dessert, anyone?" I asked. "Yeah, why not," Faye said. "It's not that bad, actually," she added, mainly for Annie and Marissa's benefit. Anna came back. "How are y'all this evening?" she asked. She had a strong Southern accent, unsurprisingly. "Very well, thank you," I said. "Are y'all related, or - " "Yes," I replied, explaining which ones of us we were related. "We haven't seen each other in a while, so we thought we'd come here to catch up." I felt it best not to explain why we hadn't seen each other; I knew that some fundies went to colleges like Pensacola and Crown, but I didn't want Anna asking too many questions. "Lovely!" she trilled. "Are y'all wanting dessert?" "Yes, please," I said. "We'll share some ice cream pie and some cinnamon rolls." I paused, then remembered something. "I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier, but is there any way in which we can pray for you?" "I recently got engaged," she replied, waving her ring around. "So it'd be neat if you could pray for my marriage." No gratitude, I thought, as we agreed to pray and she walked off. "No please or thank you," Marissa whispered; she was always one for saying what everyone was thinking in situations like this. "You'd think gratitude and politeness would be part of the SOTDRT, but apparently not," Faye said. *** Nobody took to the stage as we ate dessert, but as we left the table (after tipping with tracts, which I'd brought along) I saw the RV family walk up the steps. "Crikey, they're skinny," Faye said. I laughed at her usage of such a British term; Mom used them liberally. "Maybe they took advantage of the 50% off if you sing or preach deal," Annie commented. "Oh, they definitely would have done," I said, as we walked through the door of the gift shop. "Ovulation kits?" Marissa exclaimed, holding one. "Well, you know how much fundies set store by their fertility," Annie said. Just then, a very familiar family walked in. "Who are they?" Marissa whispered. "He's a preacher, very anti-gays and Obama," I hissed, feeling the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. I watched as his children looked at the board games. "Come on, we don't have time now, my slot is in ten minutes," he said, before the family trooped back out. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. "He's preaching??" Faye said, looking worried. "Is he going to start screeching about how men should pee?" "Let's leave before then, then," Annie agreed. I was in front of the book section, seeing which titles I recognised, when another familiar voice. "What do yer think of this?" the man asked, holding up a pair of earrings. "Very pretty," the wife said. "Did you hear ma preachin'?" Weenie Man asked. We all froze to the spot. "Y-y-yes, sir," Faye said, being polite. We'd actually barely been able to discern what he was saying, not because of his accent but because he'd been so rambly and failing in grammar. "Do you go to church?" "Yes sir." Annie answered this time, as she was able to answer the question truthfully. I never remembered what denomination she was, only that it was a fairly liberal church and that she was part of the choir. "Would you like us to come be part of yer preachin'?" Marissa was determinedly not looking at him, and was sending me a message with her eyes that read "FUCK NO!" "Oh... I... er... don't know... we're rather busy for the next few months," Annie replied. "Alright, it was worth askin'," he said, turning back to the jewelry (or joory as he'd been calling it). We left as quickly as we could, knowing that this would be an amazing story to tell on Dumb Things Fundies Do.
"Dude... what is up with all these random lace doilies..." Marissa wondered aloud. Annie explained. "She sounds nuts," Marissa said. "Oh, that's only the surface," Faye replied drily. Anna returned, with a sheaf of menus. As she walked away again, I noticed that she had a silver ring on her left hand. "Big Salad?" Marissa asked. "Garnished with raw egg dressing," Annie said. Marissa gagged. "Seriously?" she exclaimed. She glanced at the menu with a look of disgust on her face. "Ooh, weens and gravy. Isn't that a breakfast dish?" "Yeah, but they don't have many starters here," Faye said. "I like sausage gravy, I'll go for that." Faye and I exchanged significant glances, but Marissa was oblivious. "Hello, are you ready to order?" Anna seemed to possess that high-pitched baby voice all young fundie women appeared to have. "Yes... three lots of picnic eggs, and one portion of weens and gravy," I said, ignoring Annie, who was sniggering. I looked back at the menu. I noticed that each dish could be served as individual portions, or could be served buffet-style with everyone helping themselves. To this end, I ordered tater tot casserole, chicken-etti, and burritos to share, as well as some raspberry Kool-Aid. Anna scribbled down the order, and, as had happened back in Summer Springs, presented us with a complementary jar of pickles. "OK, Marissa, lemme introduce you to some of these people..." Annie said, bringing out her phone. As I talked to Faye about college (I had also done political science, so we were comparing courses), I watched Marissa's face. It was a joy to behold. From the lack of utter disgust, I deduced that Annie had taken the simple decision to *not* introduce her sister to Weenie Man. "HAY-MAYUN!" We all jumped out of our skin. Filled with dread, I looked at the stage. Sure enough, Weenie Man was here in person. "Bloody hell, that nearly gave me a heart attack!" Faye whispered. "Who's that?" Marissa asked. "He's a preacher," Annie explained. "What the heck was that HAY-MAYUN?" "God knows," I said. "People on DTFD are trying to work out if it's some kind of Tourette's-type tic or something he says a la Robert Tilton's Hoo Ba Ba Kanda." As we watched on, I knew that this would be perfect to mention in the thread. Many of us had mentioned possibly going to see our various grifters in action, but nobody had actually done so. After a couple more HAY-MAYUNS, Weenie Man ended his message and walked off the stage, picking up a KFC bucket as he went. As the Taylors shuffled up on stage, having clearly brought along the entire family, I barely noticed the arrival of our starters. "What... the fuck... is this?" Marissa was eyeing her plate of weens and gravy with a look of pure nausea. "Man food eating," Annie grinned. "Why is it pink?" Marissa asked, ignoring the "man food" comment. "Red weens," Faye explained. Picking up her fork, Marissa poked at it, as though worried it would jump down her throat. "Go on, it's made with real flour!" I said, barely able to contain my laughter. Despite my misgivings, the picnic eggs were quite tasty. Looking as though she would rather be doing anything else, Marissa cut off a tiny portion and put it in her mouth. "Oh God, I'm never gonna be able to look at sausage gravy in the same way," she said sadly, putting the fork down in defeat. "That is the most disgusting thing I have ever had the misfortune to eat." At that moment, the Taylors began to sing. "Oh Christ, I thought we'd left these people behind?" Annie asked. "They're probably desperate for money now that their conferences have dried up," I reasoned. Faye, who was sitting opposite me, stared in the direction of the entrance. "What?" I asked, somewhat unnecessarily as I whipped my neck round. "Is that the Big Salad woman?" Marissa whispered. "Is that her husband? Nice pornstache." "Bit of a shame for her that a lot of the food is unlikely to be organic, or fermented," I commented. "Well, all she'll need is her Big Salad and she'll be done for the evening," Annie reasoned. The main courses arrived on foil platters with plastic tongs stuck into each dish. Marissa eyed them warily. "I hope these are better than ween puke," she said. "They're surprisingly OK," Faye explained. "They'll clog your arteries, but they're not as hideous as ween slop." Marissa picked up a burrito and bit into it. "This is a burrito?" she said in disbelief. "Where's the meat? The salsa? The rice?" "According to the originators of this dish, there's no difference in taste between burritos with meat and without," Annie said. "Huh." She continued eating it, although she helped herself to a portion of tater tot casserole. *** Here endeth Part Two. Part Three will consist of a close encounter of the fundie kind... but with whom?
Clearly, this is not a fundie Sims post. This is going back to my parody fic, featuring the Mason family (mom Rebecca and daughters Jessica and Faye). Unlike previous entries, this is narrated by Jessica. Jessica has recently graduated from UCLA, and has recently begun studying at a graduate law school. Faye has embarked upon her junior year at UCSD, doing a political science degree. The family previously lived in the fictional town of Summer Springs in Kansas, but have now moved to San Francisco. *** Reading over my notes on contract law was giving me a headache. I brought up a new tab and opened up Dumb Things Fundies Do. As I scrolled through the latest Weenie Man thread, a notification popped up saying that I’d been tagged in a comment. Apparently Wa-La Diner is opening a new branch in San Francisco! Hey @jessidugg95, you in? Intrigued, I googled the restaurant. The news was indeed true. Even worse, it was really close to where we lived. I hadn’t seen anything about a new restaurant opening, but I didn’t usually visit that part of the city. I explored the website, which was promising new dishes. “Ew, gross,” I said to myself as I read the updated list. ”What?” Mom asked. ”There’s gonna be a new branch of Wa-La Diner here in San Fran,” I said. ”Oh dear. What’s ew gross?” ”They’ve got some new dishes. Including some inspired by our favourite grifter.” ”Huh?” ”Pink weens and gravy.” ”Dear Lord,” Mom shuddered. “How can these people market this slop?” “Christ knows,” I replied, closing my laptop. ”Are you considering going?” ”Dunno, I wouldn’t go alone,” I replied. Faye wasn’t coming back from college for a couple of days. She’d decided on doing a political science major and was really enjoying it. Unlike me, she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to do, but I was sure she’d get a good job. I had some real-life friends who were part of DTFD, but I wasn’t entirely sure if they’d want to get involved with an actual trip to Wa-La Diner. ”No, fair enough. I was gonna suggest you should wait till Faye gets back.” *** Eleven days later, Faye was home. I’d told her about the new restaurant, and unsurprisingly she was very much up for a visit; she had always been more interested in fundieism and was more active on DTFD. I'd managed to persuade Annie and Marissa along: Annie knew about fundies, but wasn't part of DTFD; Marissa knew very little, but was always up for an "experience" and a laugh. “Dare you to order the pink weenie gravy,” Faye grinned, on the day of our visit. ”I don’t fancy food poisoning again,” I said. I’d only had a bout last week and didn’t fancy spending the night leaning over the toilet. ”How are we going to dress?” she asked. “The dress that served me so well last time got ripped, so...” ”Well, it's winter, it'll be easier to layer,” I said. “I’ll wear my denim skirt again.” We spent a while in my room, discussing college and guys and the usual things young twenty-somethings discussed. Faye still had the boyfriend she’d had on our first visit, but he was still in Kansas. “It’s weird to think that, if we were fundie, I’d probably be married by now,” I said. “Yeah. And my relationship with Charlie has gone on longer than most fundie ones, so we’d be at least engaged,” Faye replied. ”Poor beggars get no choice,” I sighed, braiding my hair. "Makeup or not?" she asked. "I'd go with subtle," I replied, carefully applying my mascara. "Yeah, I don't suit the 80s look, I don't have any green eyeliner," Faye replied. *** Annie and Marissa were already waiting outside when we arrived, dressed almost identically in sweaters, knee-length denim skirts and boots. "So, what kind of cuisine do they serve here?" Marissa asked. "It's very much of the cream-of-crap soup and packet mix variety," I explained. "You'll understand better when we're inside." The interior decor was very similar to the Summer Springs branch. We were enthusiastically greeted by a girl in a hot pink polo shirt, black maxi skirt and brown sandals. "Table for four? Right this way, we've got a table right by the stage. By the way, my name is Anna," she said. "Stage?" Marissa asked. "Oh yes, we have musical entertainment and preaching tonight," Anna replied, not noticing Marissa's tone of worry. I exchanged glances with Annie, both of us trying hard not to giggle. "Lovely," Marissa said quickly. *** Here endeth Part One. Watch for Part Two, after which poor Marissa will never be able to look at her favourite breakfast dish of sausage gravy in the same way ever again...
“Well, I recently began a courtship,” she said, the pitch of her voice increasing. “Oh, just like my daughter here,” I said, pointing to Faye. “Well, I’ll be sure to pray for you.” “Thank you!” said Grace. “What would like for your main course?” “I will have the Tater Tot Casserole,” I replied. “Jessica?” “I’ll go for the Chickenetti,” Jessica replied. “And you, young man?” Grace asked Charlie. “Oh… umm… I’ll have a burrito, please,” Charlie said. “And I will have the Chickenetti as well, please,” Faye said. “Thanks for the order,” Grace said, scribbling it all down. “Here are some complementary pickles and two animal crackers.” I eyed the pickle jar warily. I was not much of a fan of pickled food, unlike my husband. “Oh wow, these are so salty,” Jessica grimaced. “And slimy and vinegary. I can’t eat these.” “Dude! We should say grace!” Faye said, poking her sister. “Oh yeah,” Jessica said. “Mom?” “Thank you Lord for the food we are about to eat,” I said quickly. The singing had finished, and now a terrible scratching began. I looked up at the stage, and sure enough, it was who I’d guessed it would be. They were dressed in black and white with the occasional red accessory. The married daughters were holding their kids. “Oh crap, them,” Jessica sighed. “Hang on, where’s the oldest? Jesus Rehab?” “They seem to want to forget about him,” I replied. I too had abandoned the pickles and was eating an animal cracker. “Well, after what that asshat did, I’m not surprised,” Jessica said. “I notice his wife’s there. Such a damn shame she doesn’t have the option of divorce. She must be feeling so conflicted.” The food duly arrived. The Chickenetti was in a silver serving dish, with a pair of plastic tongs stuck in the centre. “Guess it’s serve yourself,” Faye said. “Paper plates, too.” She gave Jessica a serving before helping herself. We all quickly repeated the same grace as I’d used earlier before digging in. “So, what’s it like?” Jessica asked. “Greasy as fuck, but surprisingly nice,” I replied, careful to keep her voice down lest a family keel over at her usage of a curse word. “Mm, same with this Chickenetti,” Jessica said. “Can’t say the same about this burrito,” Charlie said. “It’s the plainest thing ever. No meat? No spice? Who on Earth made up this dish?” “They used to use meat,” Faye explained, spooning some spare Chickenetti onto his plate, “but they switched to this meatless, bean version and apparently there’s no difference in taste.” “Pfft, I call bullshit,” Charlie said. He twirled his fork in the Chickenetti. The screeching stopped, and the Taylors themselves got up to take the stage- or, at least, the parents and unmarried children did. They began singing in a very nasal chorus. “Man, I can’t take much more of this entertainment,” Jessica muttered. “None of these people have any discernible talent whatsoever.” “Too right,” Faye replied. “As long as they’re honouring Jesus it’s A-OK though.” I could feel the grease around my mouth as Grace took away our plates and the serving dish. As I reached for a paper napkin, I wondered how likely it would be that I would end up in Dr Kaczynski’s office in three months complaining of heart problems. “So… dessert, guys?” Jessica grinned. “Lots of choice there, too.” I glanced at the menu again. Ice cream pie… poppy seed loaf… apple dumplings… all the dishes I could have expected were there. Charlie went for the ice cream pie, Jessica for the poppy seed loaf, I for cinnamon rolls and Faye for cheesecake. Fortunately, by the time the dessert arrived, the entertainment seemed to have stopped for the evening. Unfortunately, they began piping in hymns over the tannoy system. “This is quite nice, actually,” Jessica said, “if a little dry.” “Mmm, yeah, I like this cinnamon roll,” I replied. “So, do you think we’ll end up coming here again?” Faye asked. “Probably not,” I said. “I don’t want another evening of screeching and wailing for one.” “Neither,” Faye replied. “It’s been an interesting experience but not one I want to experience again.” After paying (and giving the waitress a tip of tracts, like any good fundie would), we decided to browse the shop. The shelves were full of books. I recognised many of the Taylor titles. “I still can’t believe people actually buy these,” Jessica said. “They’re aimed at such a niche market. Surely all the people interested in this stuff will have bought them already?” “Yeah, I have no idea how they actually make any money,” I replied. “They’ve stopped their conferences and their IT course thing has folded. None of the sons have any concrete kind of job working at a legit company. They all seem to work for Papa Taylor.” “Well, they’re managing somehow,” Faye said. “Well, we’re not gonna buy any of this stuff, are we? I wanna get out of here.” We left the shop just as a family I didn’t recognise came in. We clambered back into our car and headed for home.
A while ago we came up with ideas for a potential fundie-themed restaurant. I decided to write a story featuring the Masons and a visit to said restaurant. Families are referred to, although not by name. “Mom. Mom. Have you seen what’s in the newspaper?” Faye was running into the living room, waving a copy of our local paper wildly. “No, you’ve been reading it all morning. What?” “There’s a new restaurant opening. It’s called Wa-La Diner and it’s run by a fundamentalist Christian family. It’s their grand opening tonight and supposedly there are LOADS of fundies going. We HAVE to go.” The paper was swooshing so fast I could feel a breeze. Faye had an excited look in her eyes. In fact, the members of Dumb Things Fundies Do had been discussing the grand opening for a long time. I knew I could score major kudos points by going. And I was seriously tempted. I’d recently bought myself a new maxi skirt… oh, who was I kidding…? “I think we can definitely go,” I grinned. “Why don’t you invite Charlie along? We can pretend you’re courting and I’m your chaperone or something. Do you think Jessica will want to come?” “Well, she’s not as fascinated by fundies as me, but I’m sure she’d be up for it,” Faye grinned. “HEY! JESS!” My oldest daughter entered the room. “D’you fancy going to Wa-La Diner?” Jessica looked confused as an enthusiastic Faye shoved the advert under her nose. “Oh, this sounds good…” Jessica muttered. “We don’t have a huge family, though. How can we not appear like intruders?” “Mom figured it out,” Faye replied. “I’m inviting Charlie along- we can pretend we’re courting- and you and Mom are our chaperones.” “I don’t really have any suitable skirts…” Jessica muttered. “Well, we can buy you one,” Faye said breezily. The skirt- a knee-length denim affair- was duly purchased. Jessica paired it with a blue paisley-patterned v-neck top underneath which she wore a white camisole for “modesty”. Faye herself was wearing a black-and-white patterned maxi dress which was modest enough without extras. Standing in the hallway, we all laughed at each other. “Oh my god, this is going to be soooo bizarre,” Faye said. The doorbell rang. Charlie was looking wary. “What is this thing we’re doing?” he asked. “We’re visiting Wa-La Diner,” Faye said, explaining the story. “Oh God, we’re going to be seeing freaky fundies up close?” he asked. “Come on, it’ll be a laugh,” Faye pleaded. “OK. As long as we don’t actually have to talk to these Jesus freaks, I’m good.” Wa-La Diner was brightly lit. The front windows were interestingly decorated. “What’s with all the pink and lace and doilies and doll tea sets?” Charlie asked. “Oh, I know who that’ll be,” Faye said, explaining. Charlie’s eyes shot up. “She sounds insane,” he replied. “All fundies are, let’s be honest,” Jessica said, putting her hands in her pockets. The main dining room was noisy. As we waited for a waitress to arrive, I decided to people-watch. “Spot anyone?” Faye asked. “Not yet, we’re too far away,” I replied. A young woman, dressed in a bright-pink t-shirt, frilly apron and denim maxi skirt walked over to us. “Welcome to Wa-La Diner!” she said, in a bright voice. “My name is Grace and I will be your waitress this evening. How many of you are there?” “Four,” I said, whilst thinking “Can you not count, dumbass?” We were led to a small table at the side of the room. It too was covered in a pink gingham table cloth and lace doilies. “Here are your menus!” said Grace, in the same high-pitched voice. “I will be back shortly to take your order!” She walked over to another table. “Big Salad?” Charlie asked. “Oh, she’s particularly crazy,” Faye explained. “Ooh look, Taylors,” Jessica whispered, nudging my elbow. I whipped my head round. It looked like the entire clan had arrived. Mama Taylor and her unmarried daughters were all in the same outfit- white t-shirt, black floral-patterned skirt and pale pink cardigan. Papa Taylor and the unmarried sons were in simple white shirts and chinos. Each married son and his family had also cobbled together some kind of dress code. “Three guesses as to what they’ll be eating,” I muttered, spotting the meatless burritos underneath the “main courses” heading. “So, what are we all having?” Jessica asked, bringing my attention back to the table. “Hmm… there are so many classic dishes and only four of us…” I said. “I think I’ll take the plunge and go for Tater Tot Casserole.” “Ah yeah, I was gonna go for that…” Jessica said. “Hm. I’ll go with Chickenetti.” I was just about to ask Faye what she wanted when a dreadful wailing began. Thinking some poor young woman had been dumped, I looked round for the source of the noise. “It’s them!” Faye whispered. “Off the RV! No doubt trying to grift for a free meal.” “Jesus, is that singing?” Charlie wondered. “And holy crap, they’re so skinny!” “Not the husband though,” I muttered. “Ooh look! Guess who’ve arrived, all the way from Washington!” Jessica said. I looked toward the entrance and saw what Faye had seen. I recognised the mother, short hair standing out in stark contrast to the lengthy tresses all around her. The eldest daughters were looking bored, arms folded. The youngest, twins, were dressed completely identically, from the pink-and-white striped dresses to the white sandals on their feet. The only concession to individuality was that one had a pink ribbon in her hair, whilst her sister wore a purple one. “Ah, my gateway fundies,” I said. “I thought they’d ditched the skirts-only rule?” “They’re gonna be back in skirts to fit in at Wa-La, aren’t they?” Faye pointed out. “True,” I replied. “Spot anyone else?” “Yup,” she replied. “Right there, all the way from Tennessee.” I looked. Sure enough, I recognised them. It looked like they hadn’t brought along their married children- until I remembered that the married couples all had young children or were on their honeymoon. “Man, you are going to have to tell me about these people,” Charlie said, staring in disbelief at all the other tables. “Oh, don’t you worry, I will,” Faye said drily. “Hello again! What would you like to order?” Grace’s high-pitched baby voice was starting to grate on me. “I think we’ll start off with a bowl of Big Salad to share as well as some gloodles,” I said. Then, remembering a common fundie trick, I asked her if there was any way in which we could pray for her.