Make My Day

I am more blessed than most missionaries. Most of my kind are out there in the bush or the forgotten, farflung corners of the globe spreading the Good News about Jesus Christ. They live in tiny huts among the natives, eat the same crap food and hardly ever see a white person like themselves. Not me. I go on a few adventures into the Dark Continent every year, but as I've said before, this is much more of a Missionary Meets Rambo kind of thing than the traditional, waste of time Christian stuff these other okes are doing.

As I was saying, I'm blessed to live in a really nice house in a relatively safe community. Crime is a great scourge in our land ever since the blacks took over. But my home is impenetrable, unless you fly overhead by helicopter, but there are big enough trees all over the property to prevent anyone landing there. But if some crazed gunmen high on dagga did manage to break in, there are fierce dogs to contend with, and every member of the family, including crippled grandma, the two maids and garden boy, are armed and trained to kill. The two maids and garden boy are converts of mine from the Sudan. They never leave the premises so I don't have to worry about them defecting or being influenced by the lazy local blacks. If they ever try to escape . . . well, let's just say, vengeance will not only be the Lord's if they are stupid enough to jump ship.

Where was I . . . ? Yes, I remember now, my nice comfortable, secure fort in a leafy suburb. The other day I decided that I had to expand the shooting range in our back garden to include a paintball section. I can't go around with this snappy new nickname and risk another incident like Halloween last year. When the Devil's Birthday rolls around again, my kids are going to be well trained. Those little demon-pranksters are going to taste the wrath of Pete's Paintballs, fired from a moving car with tinted windows and stolen number plates. No ways I'm going down again . . . bad enough I still have to face the music when the judge decides what the hell to do with me because of last year. Probably have to do some community service in a black township -- although I'm looking forward to it as it will keep me on my toes. I actually hope some dagga-smoking black tries to hijack me. Bring it on! Like that movie hero of mine once said, 'Make my day, punk!'

Remember, always be prepared. Fight the good fight.