Madness In Maggody

"Brother Verber will now lead us in the invocation," she a

He wiped his forehead, shot a fearful look at the bleachers, and finally found his voice. "We are gathered here today," he began sonorously, "to test the skills of these two teams of Maggody children-but we are not here with God's blessings. God is wincing as He looks down at this field. He is gnashing His teeth. He is rubbing His hands together and sighing. Why? Do you want to know why God's unhappy today in heaven?"

Nobody admitted to possession of an inquiring mind. After a quick swipe with the handkerchief, Brother Verber sucked in a lungful and told us, anyway. "Because one team is made up of outstanding young boys, each dedicated to the principles of competition and fair play."

"How young are they?" Saralee called.

"Young, little lady. Now this other team"-he made a grandiose sweep in our direction-"this other team has violated the laws of God, not to mention all standards of human decency. This other team has girls and boys playing together! And do you know what that means?" He had to pause to get another lungful, but he had enough sense not to demand any response from the crowd, most of whom were eyeing the Flamingos in case they commenced violating standards right there on the spot. "It means they have wicked thoughts ru

"I'm thinking you're an asshole," Hammet volunteered.

"Me, too," Saralee added loyally.

"That's an example of what I'm talking about," Brother Verber said, his nose pulsating and his face begi

"Magazine subscriptions?" Kevin Buchanon said loudly. It would have been more impressive if his voice hadn't cracked, but now all heads turned to the far end of the bleachers. "What about magazine subscriptions?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I think it's Satan hisself I'm hearing," Brother Verber blustered. "Satan hisself is perched on your shoulder, ain't he? Satan hisself!"

Dahlia had remained motionless thus far. She rose ponderously, inch by inch and with such steeliness that the crowd was holding its collective breath. "What does Satan know about kittens and tomcats except what he reads in your magazine?" she said very slowly and clearly. Her black eyes were burning within the fleshy mounds of her cheeks. Her lips went in and out as she stared at him. She was not anyone to meet in a dark alley. Brother Verber clutched his bow tie. "They was planted by some si

Mrs. Jim Bob gave him a quick look, then put one fist on her hip and shook her finger at Kevin and Dahlia. "You're a fine pair to be casting the first stone. Everybody in town knows how you two were fornicating on the porch swing."

Eilene leapt to her feet, although she kept a tight grip on Earl's shoulder to hold him down. "That's a lie!"

"Everybody knows," Mrs. Jim Bob replied complacently.

"I say it's a lie," Eilene said, begi

Estelle and Ruby Bee were whispering. They made a decision and Estelle stepped into the lion's den. "Satan may have planted those magazines by your trailer, but he didn't plant them in a certain dumpster at the edge of Farberville, did he?" She put the plastic bag down and opened it. A bright pink figure popped up, its painted eyes wide in surprise and its other anatomical projections jiggling so realistically that the crowd let out a collective gasp. "What about your little inflatable friend?"

Estelle continued. "Surely you felt bad about leaving Suzie Squeezums, didn't you?"

Brother Verber's face resembled tomato aspic, from the color to the quiver. His jaw opened and closed, and we could see his tongue swelling as if he'd contracted a mild case of bubonic plague. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said hoarsely.

"And you're a fine one to speak," Mrs. Jim Bob added, although she was sending dark looks at her companion. "Why don't you explain what you were doing in an apartment with a half-naked man, and in the afternoon, too.? I think we're entitled to an explanation of this outrageous conduct."

"Sez who?" Ruby Bee snapped.

What was I doing all this time? you ask. Nothing. And why not? you ask. Because every last one of them deserved it, that's why. The entire town had been obsessed with tacky rumors. Life in Puritan Salem had been a damn sight saner, and the only reasons these good citizens hadn't pilloried anyone was because we didn't have a convenient spot for the pillory.

"I've never hidden in a dumpster," Mrs. Jim Bob retorted. It was a non sequitur of monumental proportion, but nobody minded because, in truth, they figured they deserved an explanation of that, too. Several folks nodded and said as much to each other.

Ruby Bee waited until there was dead silence and the tension was as hot as the sun. "I was fetching a bag someone had thrown in there. The bag contained a whole stack of pornographic magazines and books, along with this perverted balloon creature. You want to know who threw it in the dumpster?"

Brother Verber was deteriorating badly, but he nudged Mrs. Jim Bob aside, noisily cleared his throat, and gave it his all. "I did it in the name of the Lord. I was cleansing the town of depravity and filth and perversion by making sure that material was discarded outside the city limits of Maggody, so that not one of our i

A few of the spectators clapped hesitantly, although most of them were tugging on their lips or scratching their heads as they struggled to follow his logic.

Raz Buchanon expelled an arc of tobacco juice. "But jest exactly where did they come from in the first place?"

Brother Verber clasped his hands over his belly and rocked back on his feet. "Why, they came from Satan hisself."

"Some of the magazines have subscription labels," Estelle called. "They weren't addressed to Satan, either."

Even Mrs. Jim Bob was growing perturbed. "Where did they come from, Brother Verber?"

He thudded to his knees and put his entwined hands under his chin. His eyes welling with tears, he bleated, "Satan."

This divinely diverting moment was interrupted by the sound of an unmuffled engine coming around the corner of the high school. We all stared at the pickup truck as it drove across the grass and right onto the field, and we stared a damn sight harder as we caught an increasingly better view of the figure crouched in the back.

My first thought was that it was some giant skunk on its hind legs. It was basically black, with a white fluttery streak down its spine.

"Oh my goodness," Mrs. Jim Bob said in a strangled voice. "It's Lamont Petrel. They tarred and feathered him!"