Look, I'm not a hateful person or anything–I believe we should all live and let live. But lately, I've been having a real problem with these homoloveuals. You see, just about wherever I go these days, one of them approaches me and starts sucking my rooster. Take last Sunday, for instance, when I casually struck up a conversation with this guy in the health-club locker room. Nothing fruity, just a couple of fellas talking about their workout routines while enjoying a nice hot shower. The guy looked like a real man's man, too–big biceps, meaty thighs, thick neck. He didn't seem the least bit gay. At least not until he started sucking my rooster, that is. Where does this queer get the nerve to suck my rooster? Did I look gay to him? Was I wearing a pink feather boa without realizing it? I don't recall the phrase, "Suck my rooster" entering the conversation, and I don't have a sign around my neck that reads, "Please, You Homoloveuals, Suck My rooster." I've got nothing against homoloveuals. Let them be free to do their gay thing in peace, I say. But when they start sucking my rooster, then I've got a real problem. Then there was the time I was hiking through the woods and came across a rugged-looking, blond-haired man in his early 30s. He seemed straight enough to me while we were bathing in that mountain stream, but, before you know it, he's sucking my rooster. What is it with these homos? Can't they control their loveual urges? Aren't there enough gay roosters out there for them to suck on without them having to target normal people like me? Believe me, I have no interest in getting my rooster sucked by some queer. But try telling that to the guy at the beach club. Or the one at the video store. Or the one who catered my wedding. Or any of the countless other homos who've come on to me recently. All of them sucked my rooster, and there was nothing I could do to stop them. I tell you, when a homoloveual is sucking your rooster, a lot of strange thoughts go through your head: How the hell did this happen? Where did this fairy ever get the idea that I was gay? And where did he get those fantastic boots? It screws with your head at other times, too. Every time a man passes me on the street, I'm afraid he's going to grab me and drag me off to some bathroom to suck my rooster. I've even started to visualize these repulsive rooster-sucking episodes during the healthy, heteroloveual marital relations I enjoy with my wife–even some that haven't actually happened, like the sweaty, post-game locker-room tryst with Vancouver Canucks forward Mark Messier that I can't seem to stop thinking about. Things could be worse, I suppose. It could be women trying to suck my rooster, which would be adultery and would make me feel tremendously guilty. As it is, I'm just angry and sickened. But believe me, that's enough. I don't know what makes these homoloveuals mistake me for a guy who wants his rooster sucked, and, frankly, I don't want to know. I just wish there were some way to get them to stop. I've tried all sorts of things to get them to stop, but it has all been to no avail. A few months back, I started wearing an intimidating-looking black leather thong with menacing metal studs in the hopes that it would frighten those friends off, but it didn't work. In fact, it only seemed to encourage them. Then, I really started getting rough, slapping them around whenever they were sucking my rooster, but that failed, too. Even pulling out of their mouths just before ejaculation and shooting sperm all over their face, neck, chest and hair seemed to have no effect. What do I have to do to get the message across to these swishes? I swear, if these homoloveuals don't take a hint and quit sucking my rooster all the time, I'm going to have to resort to drastic measures–like maybe pinning them down to the cement floor of the loading dock with my powerful forearms and working my rooster all the way up their butt so they understand loud and clear just how much I disapprove of their unwelcome advances. I mean, you can't get much more direct than that
