Kandude and Morton set out for Jericho, arriving after a short drive. It was easy to find the large industrial fabric warehouse building surrounded by hundreds of older cars and trucks. Flying atop the building was an array of large red, white and blue striped flags with a centered blue rectangle containing a red cross. As luck would have it, a service was just getting underway.
The two travelers approached the entrance, where they were met by friendly men in jeans and Bible Nation: Da-Vision Church T-shirts with the blue rectangle and red cross motif. The men were all wearing large scissors in leather shoulder holsters, and several of them had bundles of severed N-95 face masks hanging from their belts like trophies. Seeing no masks, gay pride symbols, Ivy League rings, or Donkeycrat gear, the men welcomed the two men into the church.
“Don’t forget,” reminded one of the T-shirts, “the book burning will be held in the South parking lot immediately after the service. Coffee and donuts will be provided.” Several of the people entering with Kandude and Morton people held up their copies of Harry Potter books, the Twilight series, and The Handmaid’s Tale they had brought along for the festive incineration of Satan’s works.
Inside the capacious industrial building, a throng of people, many in jeans, T-shirts and MAWA hats, filled the hundreds of folding chairs. Lacking the opulence and Jumbotrons of the BoC Cathedral, this church had big screen televisions from Wal-Mart mounted throughout the building. Behind and above the modest stage, there was a huge banner featuring the image of True President for Life TvP seated at the Resolute Desk with a phantasmagorical Jesus standing behind him, laying blessing hands on the True President’s shoulders.
Locking on to the Lord: The Bible Is Our Constitution. A side display featured pillows with American flags and Lady Liberty on them (‘EXTRAVAGANZA SALE TODAY: ONLY $25) next to a life size cardboard cutout of a mustachioed man in a suit and tie hugging a pillow.
Nearby was a large bulletin board covered with glossy headshots of the Reverend Cotton Matherlock, his beautiful wife Nylona, and a dozen or so staff members. There was a 70” flat screen showing a dynamic loop of the Reverend, his beautiful wife, joyful crowds, Christian music groups rockin’ the house, variations on the cartoonish figure with a feathery orange headdress, and American and Christian flags waving in the breeze. But no Cardoshia.
Kandude showed the picture of his beloved to one of the ladies handling merch sales, and asked if she recognized her. The lady shook her head and told Kandude that the Total Redemption Pack of anointing oils was on a killer special.
At that moment, the music video recording of the J6 Patriot Felon’s Choir faded to a solemn denouement. Pastor Cotton Matherlock sprang up on the modest stage to tumultuous applause, in which he participated enthusiastically. Not wanting to appear conspicuous, Kandude and Morton took seats on folding chairs in the back.
Pastor Matherlock spoke in low voice, the crowd suddenly hushed. “Do you love our Lord Jesus Christ?” he asked. The crowd thundered its affirmation. Pastor Matherlock raised his voice. “Do you love our once glorious America?” Again, the crowd gave it up. Prancing suddenly about the stage with spasmodic gesticulations, Pastor Matherlock bellowed, “Do you love our Past and Future President, True President Tantor von Pyubengrabbler?” The crowd went wild.
Pastor Matherlock waited a half a minute, then went on in a calmer voice. “Then I say unto you that the separation of church and state is a vicious lie. The Constitution, which rests on top of the Bible, itself the true founding document of our Christian nation, says NOTHING about the separation of church and state. God gave birth to this nation, and the founders were his faithful midwives.”
Amid resounding applause, the Pastor went on. “The uncontestable truth that America is a Christian nation has been unequivocally documented by the world’s greatest living historian, Bart Davonfogger, who has shown that this God-and-American-hating myth of Separation is a latter-day invention of atheists, communists, and left-wing historians and lawyers from Yale, Harvard, and Berkeley.” At the mention of these condescending nests of intellectual and moral depravity the crowd booed.
“Dr. Davonfogger has marshalled crushing reams of scholarship showing that the founding fathers intended government leaders to be God’s inspired prophets, its cabinet officials his loyal apostles, and its administrators his obedient scribes. God in heaven ordained not secular bureaucrats, but faithful Christian theocrats. And now, in these times of toxic secularism, God looked down on his embattled paradise and said, ‘I need a caretaker.’ And in a latter-day miracle of divine injection, God gave us our True President for Life Tantor von Pyubengrabbler.”
At this pronunciation, Pastor Matherlock turned around to the great banner portraying President for Life TvP and his personal sponsor Jesus and raised his arms in exultation. The congregation stood, waved, whooped and clamored.
The Pastor continued. “President TvP, God’s chosen emissary who loves, lives, and reads the Bible every day of his life, will put God and morality back in the White House, make the Bible the supreme law of the land, and expel the infidels from this Christian nation.” At this the crowd leaped to its feet and screamed its acclamation.
“Pastor Matherlock turned back to the crowd. Remember the teachings of our contemporary prophets, who only yesterday walked, and even still, walk among us? Rob Patinstoner. Janus Fillwell. Jerrod Dobsnite.” Hosannas issued from the crowd at the names of each of these saints.
“Before we go deeper into today’s sacred commitments of spirit and politics, I must speak to you frankly about a moral imperative of our time, second only to defeat of the minions of Satan,” said Paster Matherlock. I say unto you that it is our duty – it is your duty – to pray and vote for our President for Life, True President Tantor von Pyubengrabbler.
“You cannot vote for a Donkeycrat and call yourself an American. You cannot vote for a Donkeycrat and call yourself a Christian. You cannot let THEM steal elections. You cannot let THEM steal America. You cannot let THEM, those principalities, those Forces of Darkness, compel Christians to have vaccinations that have killed millions of people. You know what you need to do. Because our True President for Life has told you.”
Unbeknownst to Kandude and Morton, a couple of the Bible Nation: Da-Vision Church T-shirt men had noticed their lack of enthusiasm for Pastor Matherlock’s exhortations. One of them spoke briefly into his cellphone, and moments later a T-shirt man sidled up on the stage and whispered something in the Pastor’s ear.
Suddenly Pastor Matherlock’ face was twisted into anger and contempt. He leaped to the microphone. “We have discovered two witches right here in church with us today,” he shrieked. The pastor danced across the stage in a strange chopping and hopping sequence. “We do not fear you, you stinkin witches, you Satan spawn!”
Busting a couple more bizarre toprocking moves, he pointed all the way to the back of the church to where Kandude and Morton were sitting.
“You spell-casting, pharmakeia demon dingoes. We will cast you out! Just say a single word – just utter a single breath against God, Country, and TvP and we will expose you. We will get your addresses and your social security numbers. We will discover online pictures of you drinking the blood of Christian babies. We will cast you from the midst of our holy congregation. If you even think about trying to render evil spells, you will be hurled into the flames during our festive after-service book burning ceremony.”
“Uh oh,” murmured Morton. “I’m pretty sure he is talking about us.” Kandude and Morton sprang to their feet. The knot of T-shirt men that had been closing in on them shrank back in terror at the sudden animation of the two witches. Seizing the moment, the two travelers plunged through a gap, ran past the pit where the Deacons of Holy Flames were preparing for the book burning, and made it to their Subaru, thanks in part to the trepidation of their halfhearted pursuers. Behind them, they heard Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the U.S.A. booming from the speakers.
They hurtled across the back roads to a two-lane highway, then onto the interstate and the safety of a Flying Q. There they sat dejected over cans of Pepsi, frustrated by the fruitless search for the beloved Cardoshia and demoralized by the day’s religious displays.
As they wearily shuffled out of the café, Morton spotted a flyer for an old-fashioned Tent Revival meeting on the bulletin board near the exit. The simple black and white xerox copy featured a Grant Wood-like picture of a preacher and what might be his family in front of a tent, and advertised meetings at 6 P.M. for three nights, beginning the next day. But what captured Kandude’s attention was a tagline at the bottom that read: “Introducing Special Witness of Christ, Zipporah.” Beside which was a simple drawing of a lovely young woman handling a serpent.