Editorials
Rape Trees In Texas
By Brother Merv Kilgore, Pastor Church Of The Giving, Ragweed, TX
Jun 15, 2006, 22:58

I was pumping iron the other day, trying my best to beat Pat Robertson's record of 2,000 lbs on the leg lift machine, when I heard something that rocked my world. Rape Trees in my beloved Texas, I couldn't believe my ears and I shook all over each time I heard.

Rape Trees are nothing new in this liberal world of whoredom. No, Rape Trees goes back as far as history can record. Rape Trees in fact are older than Rape Rooms, but not as old as Rape Caves.

"We must fight the Brits before they force us to plant Rape Trees!" wrote George Washington's brother, Cletus Washington. Sadly, Cletus Washington was taken prisoner by the Huns and forced to dig a Rape Hole in the sandy soil of South Carolina.

"There is a new world out there, somewhere in the distance.. maybe over there...." were the last words of Fungo Columbus, the brother of Christopher Columbus and the captain of the ship Nina. Fungo couldn't finish his words of the new world because his men hit him in the head and tossed his limp body into a Rape Dingy.

I, like President Bush and his stand against Saddam's Rape Rooms, was determind to make a stand against the Rape Tree at the border of Texas. I gathered my things and headed down to  El Paso to stop the coyotes from their Rape Tree fetish. I carried truth with me, I carried honor with me, and I carried a loaded 44 magnum long barrel hand gun with me.

Once I got to the location, I could see the panties blowing in the hot Texas wind as they hung in the Rape Tree. Some panties were lacey, some were of the see-thru kind, some were sexy-as-hell, and some made me sick as I sniffed them. I was just about to spew my seeds of hope in a pair when I heard a coyote.

"Come on out here, you son-of-a-bitching coyote!" I yelled as I cocked my 44. "By shits you'll never plant another Rape Tree!" I added as I pointed my long barrel 44 in the direction of whence I heard the noise.

"Senor, drop your gun and pull down pants." said a voice to me. So, I did. Damn, wrong move........

That son-of-a-taco-eatting-bastard raped the shit out me from behind! I squealed like Ned Beaty in the movie Deliverance as the coyote rode me. Then, that Mexican bastard hit me in the head with my own hand gun. I was knocked colder than a frozen whore in an Alaskan whorehouse.

 As I awoke, I realize that I still had the truth with me, I still had honor with me, and damn if I didn't still have a loaded 44 too!

 I went back the next day and to my dismay there were my Joe Boxer boxers hang in the Rape Tree, blowing in the hot Texas wind. I felt ashamed; for those Joe Boxer's of mine had a huge shit stain running the lenght of the middle. I hung my head in shame and vowed to get that damn coyote!

I cocked my 44 and yelled,"Come out, you son-of-a-butt- plugging-bastard!"

It was then I heard something behind me. So, I dropped my pants, removed today's Joe Boxers, and I got on all fours. Yes, I was ready for that bastard this time. My wait wasn't long and once again I felt the shame of queerdom lurching behind my buttocks. Once again, in that hot Texas summer's sun, I felt the urge to cry, whimper, crawl, beg, and I also felt like singing show tunes, but that's another story....

The next day I went and there blowing in the hot Texas wind were now two pairs of my best Joe Boxer's boxers. Those same feeling came cascading down inside me. I fired warning shots with my .44 as those feelings turned to wrath. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM- BAM ! I fired 6 shots and then I remembered that my 44 only held 6 shots. "Damn, here we go again..." I remembered saying as the coyote came from behind me again.

I guess every man has his breaking point and I have mine. So, for the next 30 days I went sreaching for that point and that coyote. I never found my breaking point but I did find him. There hangs in the Texas summer's sun, blowing in the hot wind, 33 pairs of my best Joe Boxer's boxers - all with some sort of shit stain crusted in each - and those blowing boxers are a testament to my endurance, and a sign of things to come for America.

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