Story Scribble #22 - (IWAIAJaiNS)

                                                (In Which an INFJ Attempts Jihad and is Not Successful)


"We attack at midnight," the INFJ bent low over the floorplan of the large, almost mansion-like house. "He will be unsuspecting and unaware." She rolled up the floorplan. "We can do this, everyone! Remember, this is jihad!"

The INTP beside her rolled her eyes and said in a whisper, "only jihad to you."

"We must convert him to an NF," the INFJ hissed. "There's no other way."

"I'm an NT," the INTP flatly pointed out, but the INFJ waved her off.

"But you're an INTP which at least means you can see in front of your nose and have feelings."

"Commander, I'm positive the ISTP has feelings-"

"Not smart ones!" The INFJ waved the roll around to manifest her potent emotions. "We must convert him before dawn and show him the importance of his future actions! This is a war of love!"

The INTP rolled her eyes again. "Whatever."

Five minutes later, they were crawling commando-style through the ISTP's lawn and into a laser-created hole in his garage. As the INFJ was scrambling through, however, someone picked up the piece of garage... and she slowly straightened up to meet him. "... Hi!"

The ISTP narrowed his eyes. "Hi. ...if you were here for the motorcycle ride, that ended at 12PM, not 12AM."

The INFJ laughed with a quick wave of her hand. "Oh that- the motorcycle ride-" she pulled herself up suddenly and cleared her throat. "Ahem. Are you aware you're polluting the environment?"

"I have a handmade carbonate waste dispenser on the back of my exhaust pipes."

"Oh."

And then the INTP crawled through. "Hi."

The ISTP stared at them for a minute, narrowed his eyes, and then marched back into his garage with a firm declaration. "I like you. You're unconventional visitors and you're breaking the trespassing laws. Do you want a beer?"

The INFJ and INFP glanced at one another. "Um... no thanks."

"Suit yourself." He plopped down on a greasy easy chair littered with papers, chip bags, and the occasional soda can, and which the INFJ saw was facing his large collection of motorcycles and 4-wheel ATV's. They were all silent for a long time. When the ISTP had finished his drink, he glanced up at them again. "So what did you come for?"

The INFJ stood proud. "To-!"

"-see your trophy collection," the INTP finished. "And maybe ride the zipline."

"Excellent!" The ISTP burst out, popping to his feet. "Let's do it!"

Upon which the INFJ and INTP were given an extensive tour of his entire house into the wee hours of the morning. It was very lengthy, and to the INFJ, very boring as none of the explained adventures had any future value and appeared to be both a waste of time and resources. However, the ISTP continued until they got to his backyard where he had a complete earthquake stimulator installed which could simulate up to a 2.5 earthquake and had angered many neighbors.

"This is ridiculous," the INFJ finally blurted out. "How much did this cost?"

"I built it."

"For how much?! And how much were the licensing tags and the dated codes to allow your house to be this stable, and how stupid is this?"

The ISTP frowned for a second. "I don't know. Was a while back. Anyway, want to see my crocodile pool I installed? I put pexi-glass around the edges so you can actually swim with them. It's totally awesome."

"This is ridiculous!" The INFJ screeched. "There are starving children in Africa suffering from AIDS and Ebola when you're focusing solely on your own pleasure!"

"I'm also a storm chasing. You read my weather reports."

"AIDS." The INFJ waved her arms. "EBOLA."

"And you were saved from my lahar geological maps last year because without the attention, the volcano that exploded might've completely flattened you and the town nearby."

The INFJ stared at him and then dropped to her knees. "YOU FLATTENED MY HOME."

The ISTP stared back at her for a minute, then patted her back soothingly. "You know what I think you need," he mused. "A good long ride on an ATV."

The INFJ shook her head empathetically.

"... with the wind in your face and blowing all your cares away."

"No- no thank you."

"It'll make you feel better, and then we can come back and go swimming." He grinned. "With the crocodiles."

"NOOOOOO." The INFJ screamed as he dragged her off back through the house. "NOOOOOO. I NEED TO LIVE. I STILL HAVEN'T COMPLETED MY GOAL OF WORLDWIDE SOCIALIST HEALTH CARE!"

The INTP demurely followed them.

"SAVE ME," the INFJ screamed as he strapped her to the back of the ATV. "THIS IS NOT HOW JIHAD WORKS."

"Plans rarely go as planed," the ISTP pointed out helpfully. And then they drove off, pressing 45 miles per hour out of the driveway.

The INTP waited and they were back by the time the sun was up.

When they got off, the INFJ promptly fell into a little muddle heap and was completely useless for the rest of the story. However, the ISTP glanced around his workroom and frowned. "Hey- something's different."

"I drew up plans," the INTP explained kindly. "And here's a spreadsheet of my work. I apologize that I took the liberty of using your computer, but you know- I didn't have my own."

"No, that's fine." The ISTP frowned over the paper. "Hey... what's this?"

The INTP sympathetically rubbed her forehead. "I'm really, really sorry, but the arrangement of your work tools isn't going to help your future projects. It's nearly impossible. Look at the placement of the hammer over the screwdriver, and then you have all your craft tools in different spots. You practically have to dig them out of all their places, and then by the time you do get the into position, you'll be distracted by something else and have to pull those tools out, creating a pile of tools that will force you to never work in you workshop again, stiffling your life and ultimately leading to your demise."

The ISTP stared, and then he dropped to his knees beside the INFJ. "I REPENT," he screamed. "FINE. I'LL ORGANIZE MY WORKSHOP. AND I ADMIT THAT I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE FUTURE."

The INTP smiled happily. "That'll do. But you may also want to revise your plans on the carbon exhaust container. The lead is permeable and dangerous."

"I love you." The ISTP spontaneously revealed his feelings that he'd been keeping secret for the past six hours. "Will you marry me?"

"Maybe."

And so they were married six months later. The INFJ got back to working on her dream of worldwide socialist health care, but was eventually shot by other republican INFJs who instilled a worldwide democratic organization in its place and everyone paid a fair and equal price out of their own pocket for their healthcare-

THE END.