I Didn’t Join This Dodgeball League for Christian Singles to Make Friends

It’s time we get a few things straight. None of you like me, and I sure as heck don’t like any of you.

I joined this Thursday evening, co-ed dodgeball league for two reasons and two reasons only. To give thanks to our Lord Jesus Christ, and to win.

But frankly, I feel like I am busting my buns while the rest of you lollygag around making personal connections and giving testimony.

Normally I like to say we should glorify God in everything we do, but is it really “glorifying” the Lord when you’re sucking major ass in the dodgeball arena?

So, now it’s time for some tough love. Because to paraphrase the wise King Solomon, “he who spares the rod hates his idiot dodgeball teammates.”

Jennifer, your trash-talking game is weak as hell. Last week when one of “The Double Crossers’” asked if you were Lot’s wife “because you were acting salty,” you just laughed it off like a feckless turd. Not only that, but you gave him your phone number after the game. A game we lost, I might add!

Is that what dodgeball is for you? A chance to meet a potential mate who shares your Christian values?

Well, I hate to break it to you goldbricks, but there’re more important things than love, happiness, and religion. Like winning. And the 10% off coupon to the “Seven Loaves of Read” Christian bookstore out on Highway 9 that we get if we win.

Gary, is it difficult for you to praise thine God in heaven above with your head so far up your own ass?

Marie, I don’t know why you’re wearing those knee pads, because you’re certainly not using them for praying or for catching low ropes at the attack line. I’m willing to accept that God put you in my life for a reason. But it sure as shit isn’t to piss me off with your subpar play.

And I don’t want to hear any more about your sciatica. Rub some holy water on it and get your ass back out there.

Josiah, get the fuck out of my church bathroom turned locker room. I’ve got no more time for your crap.

Oh, and Josiah I still need a ride home. So just hang out in the parking lot ‘til the match is over. Cool? Praise be.

Finally, Meagan and Clyde. If the two of you don’t stop committing adultery with your eyes and start deflecting headshots I will rain seven plagues of shit down upon your heads like a vengeful, excrement-voiding God of the Old Testament.

Let’s buckle down here and focus, people. We’ve got two more rounds in this match. We all know “Samson’s Barbers” aren’t going to take it easy on us, but I think with a little bit of effort, we can win this thing. Of course, that’s all going to depend on what you want to do here. If you’re comfortable with just having fun, making friends, and not taking a children’s schoolyard game too seriously, fine.

As for me? I’m not about to throw away my $35 registration fee without getting my name engraved on that plaque in the church basement hallway. And if anyone feels otherwise, then there’s the door.

Guys, wait. I didn’t mean literally. Please don’t leave.