Originally posted by SeattleUte
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Evening of June the thirtieth in the year of our Lord Two-Thousand Eleven
5:30 pm
After an exhausting 80 minute deposition and billing three and one-quarter hours during his rigorous six-hour work day, SeattleUte, completely spent, puts on his Italian silk nightgown and choses his favorite book in his vast library of Mormon-related material: Mormonism and the Negro. He takes few spare minutes to sketch out a draft demand letter to be sent to Thomas S. Monson, which will threaten the LDS Church with all available legal or equitable action and relief if said Church refuses to offer an immediate apology for their pre- and post-1978 racism. Satisfied that the letter cannot be ignored like the prior 47, SeattleUte wears a smug grin on his face as he meticulously prepares his pillow and bedsheets for 13 hours of well deserved slumber.
He goes through his standard bedtime routine: Teeth brushed? check; Re-run of So You Think You Can Dance queued up on the telly? check; Pictures of Alex Smith and Keith Van Horn properly dusted and kissed? check, check; Alarm clock set for 10 a.m.? check; daily block for today's date on his Mormon Muffins calandar crossed off? check. SeattleUte stares at the date: June 30th...June 30th... could it be?
He rushes to retrieve his coke-bottle reading glasses from the place he puts them everynight before bed: the top drawer (right under the last pair of Mormon temple garments he ever wore...he's not sure why he doesn't throw them out, but something within refuses to allow him to dispose of them). He puts on his 1/2 inch thick spectacles and passes by Mrs. June's plump and half-exposed breasts (who, for the record, has also been properly dusted and kissed) on his way to the small box reserved for June 30th on his calendar. There, in small and scarcely legible writing, he sees the entry he etched the day he received his Chad-Hardy autographed calendar in the mail: "Utes to Pac-12 tomorrow. Set alarm for midnight to mock Cougars on CUF."
Rapidly he reaches for his alarm, fumbles and drops it, retrieves the 30-year old device and successfully sets the alarm for 11:35pm. 25 minutes ought to give his new/used 486 time to boot up and load Netscape Navigator to announce the big moment to all of CUF-dom. To commemorate the future Rose Bowl championships the Utes are bound to win, he replaces his normal bedsheets (some nearly see-through 100 thread count sheets with a fading 3' x 3' picture of Rick Majerus's headshot on them, with his newly purchased flannel sheets with small, pastel roses).
He lies in bed, re-dusts and re-kisses Alex and Keith, quietly whispers "I love you Mrs. June" to his calendar, and goes to bed an exhausted, happy geriatric.
During his peaceful slumber, his mind takes him to his first love: Ute basketball. In the final game of the 2011-12 season, Seattle Ute is dreaming that Coach K's warriors are winning their final regular-season game. If the Runnin' Utes prove to be victorious, they will finish the regular season with an earth-shattering 16 wins--enough to tip them over the .500 mark on the season. Just as the horn is about to sound, sending the Utes to the Pac-12 tourney as a 10 seed, SeattleUte is awakened by his alarm clock...
SU bolts out of bed and races to his trusty PC. He pushes the power button on the tower and the 18 inch monstrosity of a computer screen and waits for Windows 3.1 to boot. The suspense is maddening. Every audible, distinct click of Intel's best processor (circa 1993) seems like a 30-second blast of a foghorn in SeattleUte's ears. At 11:53, he double-clicks his Netscape Navigator icon. In a mere 240 seconds he will be typing a simple, yet effective email to mock his feline foes!! Tired of waiting, SeattleUte decides to get a head start on Mrs. July, and goes to turn the page on his well-dusted, well-kissed friend, Mrs. June. He loved Mrs. June. The last thirty days had been beautiful. She was there in her best low-cut, skin tight Old Navy outfit to wish SeattleUte a good night for thirty straight days. Even when he had to stay up until 8:30pm to prepare for a hearing the following day, there she was: smiling; practically screaming "DO ME SU!". But all good things must come to an end, and so it was, Mrs. June was put away.
Little did he know that Mrs. July would be there, in all her middle-aged beauty, showing off her rock-hard abdomen (shocking, given the seven children that abdomen has born). He felt an immediate connection. A need to hold her; to love her. Thoughts of polyandry and adultery flooded his mind. He wanted to get out his glasses, read her full name in the table of contents and use another Navigator window to google her information and makle his lascivious proposal to her...but inside he knew that his computer was prone to freezing when he opened more than one window. Mrs. July would have to wait. He glanced at his clock to see how much time he had left. He was horrified at the sight of the crimson block numbers on his Emerson alarm clock: 12:09, and in a flash in switched to 12:10. Weeping, mumbling, moaning, he scrambled to his computer, clicked on the "Start New Thread" icon and typed the short, stinging message. He contemplated adding an all caps "BOOM! BITCHES!" but thought better of it. Mrs. July may not like the swearing type, and he was sure that the way to her heart was to disclose his online persona on CougarUte Forum.
He strolled to his bedside, re-dusted and re-kissed Alex, Keith and Mrs. July, his lips lingering just a little too long on the 40 lb. glossy paper upon which his new love's image had been printed, then slowly drifted to the best slumber in the last ten years of his life.
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