Identical twins discover each other and their mother

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Angelica Angelina, Identical twins discover each other and their mother

My life is hell. Pure undeniable hell. Don’t believe me? Let me tell you about it and see what you think. Let me start with my home. I live in a two story, 6,400 square foot, (not counting the four car garage) central air and heat, shag carpeted, six bedroom red brick building. We only need three bedrooms so the extras became a library, an office, and a billiard room. The kitchen has both marble counters and marble floor. Only the most modern and efficient appliances are allowed. From our living room bay window you see the manicured lawn stops at the edge of the lake only forty yards away. There is a 108 inch plasma television mounted on the wall of the den. The leather couches and sofas are so comfortable it is easy to fall asleep in them.

Not convinced yet? Then let me invite you into my bedroom. I have a queen sized canopy covered lace quilted bed. I have a full bathroom that is mine alone. On my wall hangs another plasma screen TV. It is not as big as the one in the living room. I had to settle for a scrawny 55 inch one. It is however connected to a DVD player and I have Netflix. I guess I have to be happy with what little I can get. Oh yeah, least I forget, there is a maid that shows up every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and insists on cleaning my room from top to bottom and does all my laundry.

I have just graduated high school. To honor the occasion and to help me get to the nearby college I start in fall, the parents are letting me pick out my own car. They have placed only one restriction on me. It cannot, under any circumstance, cost more than fifty thousand dollars.

Now comes the family. Let me start with dear old Dad. Dad is a born again Christian. When I say born again, I mean born with a vengeance. He is a minister with one of the most successful ministries in all of the United States. The church seats six thousand. Every Sunday workers put a few hundred folding chairs in the back and along the sides to help with the overflow. Plans are underway for a bigger, better chapel. His sermon is televised around the country. Envelopes stuffed with cash and checks pour in daily.

I will give him credit for this however. He is sincere. There are some preachers out there that have second and third homes, several cars, a dozen Rolex watches, and secret mistresses. Their ministry is only their way of fleecing the people. Not my Dad. He practices what he preaches. We have the one house. Our family car is five years old, and every night Jesus sits with us at the dinner table. While I have never personally seen Him, Dad has a place at the end of the table reserved for Him. He tells us, “You never know.”

Here is where it gets a little touchy. He is as straight laced in sexual matters as the Pope is catholic. He preaches to the congregation that sex can only occur between a lawfully married man and woman. Only the missionary position is allowed and a penis should never be put in any hole except the vagina. What he says to his church is pounded into us. You ever hear the saying, ‘If I had a dime for every time I heard that, I’d be rich?’ Well with me and my family, that would not be much of a stretch. Yes, he also talks about honesty, sharing, forgiving and many other Christian topics, but the sex talk, or to be more accurate, the lack of sex talk, is the one harped on.

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