The reporter from The Des Moines Sentinel stood up quickly and glared at the other reporters to warn them back. "Mr. Romney," he began, "do you wear a mormu?"
Romney appeared stunned for a beat. "Mormu?"
"Precisely. Do you wear one or not?...It's relevant."
Romney didn't seem to know which way to go with this. He decided to go lawyerly. "Whether it's relevant remains to be seen...What is this mormu"?
"Come, come, let's not play cute, as though you didn't actually inhale or something. Last week, you said—"
"Wait a minute," said Romney. "You're talking about the Mormon
undergarment, aren't you? I'm on record that that isn't anybody's business."
"You may be on record, but in 1980 it was people's business whether Ronnie relied on Nancy's astrological forecasts...."
"That's preposterous!" Romney sputtered.
"You have no argument there, sir...but the question, with all due respect of course, is: If you were elected president and happened not to be wearing your mormu when the red phone rang on the Armageddon box (or whatever of grave national import), would you be able to function?"
Romney stared at the reporter from the Sentinel as more time went by than any presidential primary candidate would like in a tense situation like this.
"What's wrong, Mr. Romney," someone in the back yelled, "aren't you wearing your Mormon magic underwear today?"
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