Jesus' General

How I got arrested at one of these new-fangled rodeos

Back in my high school days, the General was quite the rodeo cowboy. I rode in bareback events exclusively, and once managed to stay on a National Finals Rodeo bound horse for 7 seconds, just one second short of qualifying--I blame the communists for my failing to go the full eight. How could anyone concentrate on riding rough stock when the Nicaraguans were posing an imminent threat to our national security.

Eventually, my militia duties took precedent over my love for the bareback riggin' and I just kind of drifted away from rodeo. Then, last week, I saw a poster for something called a gay rodeo. Now, I'd never heard of a gay rodeo before, but I figured it must be a lot of fun if they called it that, so I bought me a ticket.

The first part was just like I remembered it with guys getting bucked of on their heads in the bareback and saddlebronc competitions and ambulances going to the hospital in shifts. The only real difference was that there wasn't a cowgirl to be seen. I kind of liked that. It gave the event a manly feel--just a bunch of guys in colorful, well-tailored shirts and chaps cussing and spitting chew while enjoying America's number one sport.

When the announcer said it was time for goat dressing, I thought he meant goat tying. That disappointed me because goat tying is a lady's event. My night out with men was about to be ruined.

Now, goat tying is a timed event where a cowgirl gallops out to a goat, jumps off her horse, throws the goat down, and hog-ties it. That's what I expected to see. Imagine my surprise when, instead, I saw two men run out and try to put underwear onto the goat.

It was incredible. I'd never seen anything like it. Of course the sight of two burley men roughly pulling underpants onto a goat's slender yet muscular legs had the obvious effect on me. My little soldier rose from his slumber. Unconsciously, I began to touch myself inappropriately.

The man next to me saw this and freaked out. He started screaming "pervert" and began to pummel me. Others soon joined in. It was the worst ass whooping I've ever received. Thank God, security arrived in time to save my life. Unfortunately, they also arrested me for committing lewd acts.

On the way to the jail, it finally occurred to me that a gay rodeo was a different kind of rodeo. I should have noticed it before. The pink cowboy shirts, the lavender cowboy hats, the jock straps instead of Levis under the chaps, the failure to understand the eroticism that is inherent in the sight of men forcing underwear onto a goat--these cowboys weren't like me. They did not share my manly sexual appetites. They were homosexuals.

And they called me a pervert!