The Christian Meets the Leprechaun

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The Christian Meets the Leprechaun

Everyone is crazy except the people who believe their benevolent, penis-obsessed god murdered his only son.

You keep saying Christians are delusional and crazy. This ad hominem attack proves nothing. Look around and you will see that there are millions of Christians. According to you, they are all nuts. Maybe you should talk to a psychologist. ~Christian Email 

Dear Christian,
Once, a God-fearing man celebrated his birthday in a bar by drinking green beer on Saint Patty's Day. Holding his paper top hat and stumbling through the crowded room of patrons cheering and clinking mugs, the Christian soon weaved in front of a urinal, trying to aim correctly.

From behind, the sound of the door swinging open shifted the Christian’s head up, and from the corner of his eye, the motion at the neighboring urinal caused a look right, revealing a tiny man climbing a barstool. Returning to his business, Christian perked his ears to rushing water. Turning to the noise, the Christian discovered the little man exploding like a rain spout overflowing in a storm, but unlike a normal downspout, the pipe was fifteen inches and as thick as a beer can.

Stunned but not wishing to seem like a perverted homosexual, the Christian turned, zipped his pants, and headed for the sink, watching the tiny man finish in the mirror. Shifting his eyes to the sink as the small man finished, dismounted his stool, and carried it to the sink, the Christian watched as the man began washing his hands. Unable to control his curiosity, the drunk Christian slurred, “Man, I don’t mean to be a fag, but that’s one hell of a dick you’re packing.”

The little man, clearly annoyed, retorted, “Yeah, thanks.”

The drunk Christian swayed as he dried his hands and joked, “Hey, wait a minute. You’re like one of those leprechauns, ain’t you?”

The tiny man, for a moment, appeared enraged, then furrowed his brow and pivoted on the stool drying his hands with a paper towel. “What if I am?”

The Christian laughed, then stopped as the small man stared with deadly seriousness. Squinting at the little man, steadying his vision, the Christian thought, What if this tiny man is a leprechaun? What if he could grant a wish? The Christian belched, “Are you a leprechaun, for real?”

The little man crossed his arms and nodded.

The Christian clasped his hands and said, “It’s my birthday and Saint Patty’s Day. Could you grant me a wish?”

The man waved his hand and said, “I really don’t like to do that.”

“Please!” begged the Christian.

“Okay, but you must give me something first.”

“What?” the man slurred.

“Well, that depends on what you want.” said the little man as he tossed his paper towels into the trash.

The inebriated Christian brightened. “That’s easy. I want a dick just like yours.”

The little man nodded. “Okay, but I get to fuck you in the ass.”

The Christian’s eyes widened in horror as the devious little man grinned, awaiting an answer.

The Christian thought, Well, sodomy is a sin, but it’s not every day a person gets a wish granted. What the hell! God will forgive me.

“Let’s get it over with,” grumbled the intoxicated Christian as he gripped the sink counter, dropped pants, and bent over.

The little man descended his stool, pushed it behind the Christian, then ascended as the Christian dropped his trousers. Unzipping his pants, the short man released the monstrous manhood that now challenged the capacity of the Christian’s ass. Gripping the Christian by the haunches, the little man violently thrust into the drunkard, triggering a blood-curdling scream. Pain-filled howls turned to grunts of discomfort soon enough as the tiny man fell into a rhythm.

Slapping the Christian’s ass, the tiny man gritted, “So it’s your birthday, huh?”

“Yes,” agonized the Christian.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty,” grunted the Christian as he clawed the countertop.

The little man pumped extra hard and slapped the Christian’s ass. “Wow! Thirty years old, and you still believe in leprechauns.”


A derivative of an old joke.