Terror From On High

A Muslim family moved in next door over the weekend. It just so happened to also be a major air show in Cape Town over the weekend. You'll recall that I recently scared the bejesus out of a few Muslims to commemorate 9/11, using my skillful remote-controlled terror attacks from the sky.

As a warm -up for the air show -- I wouldn't miss something like this for all the Sudanese converts in the world -- I decided to let my new neighbours know that they should have stayed in their Muslim community rather than move into a largely white and Christian suburb. I don't care how rich they are; they worship Satan and support terrorism. In fact, they should immigrate to the Middle East where they belong.

I waited for the first jet to make its deafening swoop over our suburb, launching my rigged miniature plane just as the jet flew overhead. My plane skillfully dodged branches, a braai area and a jungle jim and then made straight for Mohammed sitting drinking his tea on his new porch. He was blissfully looking up at the sky, trying to make out the jet, when my much smaller plane came screaming out the sky straight for his head.

I'm still laughing as I type ... he screamed something that sounded like, Allah have mercy! Then he hit the deck with his hands over his head -- like that would have helped him if the real jet was about to crash into his skull. So happens that a pilot died before the air show when his plane went down in the sea -- Mohammed must have thought another pilot was using his new home as a crash-landing site.

Like I said, my plane was rigged. I'd worked all night on a custom-made paintball bomb that I released just as the plane screamed over Mohammed's crouching body. Bull’s-eye! The paint bomb hit him in an explosion of red paint, symbolic of the Blood of Jesus shed for sinners like this.

I quickly landed my plane, hid it behind the rose bushes and a minute later was knocking at his front door. A crazed-looking Muslim covered in red paint answered the door ... I explained that I had seen a rebellious looking teenager dressed in a I Love Cheeses T-shirt running down the street, clutching a remote controlled device and laughing manically like a Satanist. I promised Mohammed that I'd track down the little punk and exact some righteous justice on his sorry ass. Then I wished my new neighbour a good stay. I give him under a month and he'll be packing his Koran and heading back where he came from ... he's only tasted a morsel of what Paintball Pete has planned by way of a welcome.

Fight the good fight.