Apprentice

I had planned this gun-running, Bible-delivering mission a long time ago, but the day that long-haired freak walked into my office with his Dude-this and Bru-that lingo, flashing his Jesus Rocks My World tattoo like a wild, untamed pagan, the mission evolved into something else. Yes, of course we'd still deliver the weapons, both tangible and spiritual, but I'd be damned to hell with all the ANC voters if my young apprentice did not return from his bush adventure a changed man.

So we left really early this morning. Landrovers were loaded over the weekend with the precious cargo, gave my wife a good bon-voyage seeing to in the missionary way, sang a few Sunday school choruses with my young warriors, gave Liberty a long list of chores that would cripple a normal man, and then rode off into the sunrise with my red-eyed apprentice looking apprehensive. As he should!

The long journey itself should begin to shatter his foolhardy attitude, but that's only the warm-up. Buckle up, my young apprentice, your life is never going to be the same again.

Fight the good fight. If you're the infamous rock-thrower and even think of a cowardly act in my absence, think again.