LeGRANDE jensenHot Commodity

Disclaimer: The following article is published as part of our annual satirical April Fool’s Day issue. Please don’t believe any of it, and please don’t sue us. Thanks.

Sister, I know you take your singles’ ward responsibilities seriously. But you have other responsibilities, too. And I’d like you to consider making me one of them.

I think I’m a good candidate. Imagine an eternity with me! It’d be bliss forever, like one long Peter Breinholt concert, stretched out till the end of the cosmos! You can do well for yourself, honey. But you couldn’t do much better than me.

Scope out this merchandise: I’ve been back from my mission in Mexico for more than three months now. I swear I was a District Leader and a Trainer on my mission, and I still have a Spanish accent when I speak English. And occasionally when I talk, I slip momentarily and use words like “pollo” in the middle of English conversations. (“Pollo” means chicken.) I was also an Eagle Scout.

I’m as good-looking as any guy out there. I’ve got a solid wardrobe of plaid button-up shirts and brown Doc Marten shoes. My hair is still short, and I don’t plan on growing a goatee any time soon.

I’ve got a bright future. I’m headed to medical school after I graduate with my double degree in Spanish and accounting. I then plan to moonlight as a seminary teacher.

I’ll tell you what: Tonight after the fireside, we can go back to my parents’ house. We’ll leave the door to my room open and listen to “Afterglow” and Janice Kapp Perry CDs. We’ll get some Sprite and talk about stuff.

At the end of the night, I’ll bust my “patented” hand hold move. I bump my hand into yours several times until I finally grab it. After all, this is our sixth date, and I’ve decided it’s time for us to “get a little closer,” if you know what I mean.

Don’t worry. We’re not talking “breaking the Law of Chastity” kind of stuff. I’ll hold your hand, but I promise I won’t rub it with my thumb.

If these reasons haven’t convinced you to marry, there’s something you ought to consider. Forgive me for being frank here, but you’re friggin’ old. You’re 21. That’s more than old enough to be on a mission. Of course, that’s not old by “the world’s” standards, but, honestly the world sucks.

Your options are drying up fast, honey. I’m sorry, but the pressure’s on. You gotta start poppin’ out babies some time soon. The other thing is that I’m not getting any handsomer, either. I can’t keep baldness at bay forever with this “comb-forward” haircut. I mean, Fetchin’-A! Pretty soon, I’m going to have to do a comb-over!

Sister, we could get some nasty shiz goin’ on. You and me would be da fetchin’ bomb.