He bowed his great white head. His eyelids clamped down tight, as if doing so tuned his mind to the eternal frequency.
Behind him, a TV camera caught Cholly Bork, crack puppetmaster and the brains-such as they were-behind the President. His masterful hands worked an elaborate airplane control. He mince-walked President Windfucker to a plush chair and angled his head as though he were listening in respect. Then that head bowed. The President's delicate oaken fingers steepled piously betwixt chest and belly.
"Dear God-in-heaven," thundered Sparky, "once again, as the year rolleth around like that vast immovable boulder (ha! but we know better, don't we, my friends?) that shut air and sunlight out of Thy Son's tomb, into our hearts and minds and pleasingly proud bosoms hast Thou rolled the marvel that is prom night.
"We in these Demented States of America are blessed to live in the greatest got-damned country on the greatest got-damned planet in this triple-got-damned wonder we fondly call the universe, my fellow citizens, ain't it a piece of work? And we have Thee, dear Lord, to thank for that.
"JEEsus-when He roamed the earth with those penetratin' eyes o' his-tugged with a harsh hand upon his friendship lobe and condemned us sinners, every one.
"JEEsus, the only man unfallen, swept His glarin' gaze, those condemnatory orbs whose sting we know so well, across the race of the fallen and He shouted, 'Let the little children suffer.'
"Got-dammit, let them suffer."
Shyler Bleak and his wife whispered the words along with Sparky Reezor.
"And JEEsus the Lion, He ramped back upon His great hind legs, His thighs tawny and muscular and slick with sweat. Across the tenuous fabric-that warp and woeful weft, my friends-of our smug complacency, JEEsus the Lion clawed bloody rents, roaring out: 'Cursed be the meek, for they shall eat camel dung.
"'Cursed be the poor, for money, the measure of all worth, proclaimeth their unworthiness.
"'Cursed be the peacemakers, for war alone has the power to set rods of steel in backbones that are otherwise fa-a-ar too bendable.
"'Cursed be the cowards and the whiners, for rage and fear alone nourish the human heart.
"Lord, I'm not gonna recite every one o' Your glorious be-RAY-titudes, much as I'd like to. No! For we are gathered here this evening to celebrate the annual sacrifice of our young.
"Here in Washington and aw-w-l up'n'down our eastern shore, from the great state o' Maine to that blinkered backwater we call Florida, senior proms are just itching to begin. Our brave boys and girls're champing at the bit like the prize studs and fillies we've raised them up to be. Their hooves are digging up divots from the dirt and flinging 'em skyward, as they wait for the starting gate to clang on back and for their death knell to sound.
"So I'll simply say THANK YOU, LORD, for the wisdom of our forefathers. THANK YOU, LORD, for this marvelous rite of spring, established in antiquity upon our great got-damned land to honor the spirit of your Son. For His rage and hatred, we give abundant and abiding thanks. His ferocity we worship. We strive to emulate it. Every year on this aw-w-l important night, we seek to renew that living dogma, so as to kickstart our nation out of the dying days-out of the morally suspect doldrums-of winter and on into the rejuvenatory times of spring and summer.
"All of us, old, young, and in-between, bow our heads. Some small number of those heads shall roll, never again to rise upon the youthful necks that bear them.
"Their bodies shall, by their sorrowin' school chums, be futtered, so that reminders, dried and preserved, disseminate across the land and on into the future of this great and pow'ful nation. Mementos of prom night. Mementos too of those brave young souls, unaware-until the abrupt unlooked-for fall of that short sharp shock o' death-that they have been so chosen, that they have been so honored.
"Honored may they be.
"Honored, their parents.
"And may vast new hordes of talented seniors be unleashed upon this land, upon an economy in dire need of their skills, upon this close-knit community of sinners known as the Demented States of America.
"Got-damn, got-damn, in all manner of ways I say, got-damn!
"In JEEsus' name. Amen."
Bastard sheriff. Damned gun-totin' goof had tried to throw a kink into this special night.
Couldn't. Not the essence of it anyway.
Zane ribbed the squealing mutt with a swift kick to stop its noise, but that only cranked up the volume.
Zane knelt before the couple, his knees cracking in protest. Through layers of fabric, he squeezed the woman's breasts, the man's organ.
The bag that clung stubbornly to the base of the man's left ear convinced you there might be something beneath. But his lack of a right earlobe-the sole blat in an otherwise persuasive visual symphony-told the real story.
Promjumper.
