These three missionaries go to Africa to preach the Word. It's not long before they are captured by a tribe of natives and brought before the chief.
The chief tells them, "You have trespassed upon our lands, a crime punishable by death or by pango-pango. Which do you choose?" asks the chief, now pointing at the first of the three.
"What is
pango-pango?" asks the first missionary.
"You will find out what it is only if you choose it," the chief answers. "Which do you choose?'
"Well," the missionary says, death is death, but it sounds like 'pango-pango' allows you to live, and where there's life, there's hope. I'll go with 'pango-pango'," he tells the chief.
Suddenly, the chief stands and points high into the sky, yelling, "Let there be
PANGO-PANGO!"
Drums begin to beat and other natives blow through large conch shells, and soon a huge crowd of men -- perhaps as many as 100,000 -- arrive at the camp, hooting and yelling in anticipation. The chief points at the first missionary, and he is seized by the crowd and gang-raped by each of them, one-after-another, until the last man comes and goes (no pun intended).
The first missionary left laying in the sand, staring off into nothing and catatonic. The chief makes a waving motion with one hand, and the missionary is dumped into a thick clump of nettle bushes, to live or die as the gods see fit. The chief then points to the second missionary, saying,
"Which do you choose, death or pango-pango?"
The missionary thinks for a moment;
I know I'm physically stronger than poor Clyde was, and I'm pretty sure I'm a lot tougher mentally, so... "I'll take pango-pango," he says.
The chief again points to the sky, again yelling, "Let there be
PANGO-PANGO!"
Just as before, 100,000 men show up, and just as before, the missionary is left in a catatonic state and thrown into the clump of sticky nettles.
The chief looks at the third missionary, pointing a finger at him. "Which shall it be for
you?" he asks. "Death or pango-pango?"
This third missionary is a
lot tougher than his companions had ever
dreamed of being, having grown up in the streets of Chicago, where he'd been a cop until he felt the calling to become a missionary.
Still, though, there was
no way on God's green earth he was going to let these degenerate savages corn-hole
him until he was a veggy. Uh-
uh, no
way. He looks up at the chief and declares, "I choose
death!" in a loud, clear voice.
The chief jumps to his feet, points at the sky, and yells, "Let there be
DEATH!" he roars into the heavens. He then looks down at the third missionary and yells,
"Method of execution,
PANGO-PANGO!"
OY! Is he goin' to H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks? 
OY-VEY! 
)
