Mitt: This is the basic equipment.

Ann: Notice the difference between a man and a woman. The man has a vertical placket sewn in front and thicker elastic in the waist band. And the woman has a pattern in her silken upper body.

Mitt: During arousal — or lasuora, as the Book of Mormon calls it — the garment breathes naturally. This allows aromas — or samora — to mingle, male with the female.

Ann: There are a variety of theories as to what happens next. Our latest research shows that spermatazoa are modified when passing through the silk’s microscopic lattice and are stripped of live isotopes — sepotosi evil, as Joseph Smith would say.

Mitt: This gives them greater vigor and maneuverability in their pilgrimage to the ovum — or muvo, as we would put it. An added benefit of the silk is its ability to strain out the dark particulate matter that may have broken off the walls of the male’s soul and worked its way into his vital juices.

Ann: Fresh as the Utah state flower.

Mitt: Which is the Sego Lily.

Ann: Or as our horticulturists know it, Ylil Oges. Not that we’re from Utah. We’re Michiganders and Massachussettens.

Mitt: God first gave us these garments in the Garden of Eden as protection from the human immunovirus which he was about to introduce on the Eighth Day. But the Book of Mormon proves that as a compassionate measure he waited hundreds, perhaps thousands of more years to release it.

Ann: God no longer makes these garments, but personally oversees their manufacture in China.

Mitt: So that’s about it.

Ann: That’s how our five babies were made.

Mitt: One last thing. The garment need never leave contact with your skin. One’s vital juices can be rinsed out without removing it. Either under the shower or in the bathtub — or buthtab, as we like to say.