'They are gonna be speaking in tongues in no time,' said Max, as the ten Indonesian Mujahedeen Council terrorists walked into the church.
I had told security to let them in.
They wouldn't start spraying the congregation with bullets until they had a little speech up at the pulpit about how we were all heathens and blasphemers.
This was really gunna be fun.
I loved the way the M16 spoke.
It was a simple language, universal, effective, it commanded respect.
The Chinese girls were welling up with tears.
It was the best sermon they had heard in years.
They were hot and horny and wanted blood.
'Here,' I said, 'feel free, an eye for an eye, now kill those poor excuses for pigs.'
It was payback, I said, as I handed out the weapons.
Only last Easter, The Muslim Brotherhood had slain 50 worshipers at this very church.
The bullets fired.
It wasn't hard for the girls to find out who was friend and foe.
'Yep, that's right,' I said, 'aim for the rag heads.'
Ten down and now it was time for a confession, perhaps a mass confession in my hotel room.
God has absolved you for your sins.
Then the whole congregation stood up and applauded me and Max.
We were saviors, the white saviors they had read about in the Bible.
'And I am Jesus, your savior,' I said.
It just came out, nothing calculated, naturally.
And then the knickers and bras started coming off.
I could have been Bon Jovi with this reception.
