Die Bunny Die

I hate Easter. Not the Christian celebration of Jesus dying on the cross for our sins and descending into hell to kick the living [word deleted] out of the devil, then rising again from the dead on the third day to show the whole world that He is Lord and His followers will rule the universe . . . not that Easter. The pagan Easter, the stupid little chocolate bunnies and the eggs hidden in the garden to lead our children astray from the Truth. I hate that Easter almost as much as Halloween!

So this year I decided to do something about it. We turned the whole event into a shooting extravaganza! I ordered plenty of demonic looking chocolate bunnies and their evil eggs (there's the obvious lie -- rabbits don't lay eggs), which were then hidden in strategic places around the yard. This was a real Easter hunt: a search and destroy mission that both Rambo and Chuck would be proud of. My little warrior brood loved it. We dispensed with the paintball weapons and used airguns instead. I have adapted the pellets -- they are soft-nosed pellets that explode on impact. What a frenzy! Exploding chocolate bunnies, their shattered shells falling like brown snow all over the lawn and bushes. The funniest part was finding the decapitated head of a bunny five metres up in a tree -- impaled on a branch, it was a wonderful pictorial sermonette to my family of how Jesus has conquered evil once and for all on the Cross. And also a prophetic image of what is going to happen to all those African dictators who persecute white missionaries like me!

This was all just a warm-up. We had to take our Christian witness to the streets this Easter to teach all those pagan bunny worshippers that King Jesus and His warriors mean business. It was quite delicate work, but I managed to boobytrap a whole brood of Easter bunnies. The explosive devise I hid inside the hollow centre of each bunny was detonated by remote control. I'm no suicide bomber -- terror is best managed from a distance!

It was heavenly to see the little pagans scream in absolute terror when the bunnies exploded in their hands. I left each bunny in a strategic spot around shopping centres, parks, even outside a Muslim school.

I have to go. I've planned a very spontaneous mission trip to the Sudan today. I have to get out the country as soon as possible before they lay the blame at my door . . . I like Paintball Pastor as a nickname; I don't think I could handle Bunny Killer.

Fight the good fight in my absence -- I'll be back as soon as the dust and the exploding chocolate have settled.