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In my current circumstance (I have been imprisoned by scoundrels who resent my lifestyle and belief system), I have had ample time to reflect on past accomplishments and misadventures. There is one episode from my younger years that I recall with particular pride. In our little village there was only one church, and the minister was an exceedingly cruel man: petty, spiteful, vindictive, envious of others' successes and accomplishments. He had a shrewish wife who would beat children when they kicked a ball against the rectory wall. Somehow, this horrible couple had produced a lovely daughter, a rosy-cheeked, big-breasted girl - and to this day I cannot fathom how so charming a creature had emerged from the loins of that repugnant shrew.
One day I was playing a game, and I accidentally kicked a ball through the clerestory windows. I ran inside to recover the ball, but found the minister and his wife waiting for me. I tried to run away, but they cried, Kruger!, and caught me by my shirt collar, and the pair of them beat me pitilessly, right there in the front pews. I vowed revenge that day. Two years later, I took my revenge, and even now, in this awful windowless prison, I cannot help but smile when I think of how, as the church bells pealed and the whole village gathered for Sunday service, I lay in a field with the minister's daughter and sprayed my such hot fuck on her tremendous breasts.
Date Written: July 11, 2004
Average Vote: 4