You'll know. They'll all look like somebody stuck Flit-guns full of red pepper up thef'r butts, Do you remember what you're supposed to shout, Babs?
She had. It seemed like sort of a mean trick to pull on Betsy Vigue, with whom she had skipped hand-in-hand to school, but it also seemed harmless (well... fairly harmless), and they were not children anymore, she and the little girl she had for some reason always called Betty La-La; all of that had been a long time ago. And, as Mr. Gaunt had pointed out, no one would ever connect it with her. Why should they? Babs and her husband were, after all, Seventh-Day Adventists, and as far as she was concerned, the Catholics and the Baptists deserved just what they got-Betty La -La included.
Lightning flashed. Babs froze, then scurried a window closer to the door, peering in to make sure Betsy wasn't sitting down at the head table yet.
And the first hesitant drops of that mighty storm began to patter down around her.
4
The stench which began to fill the Baptist Church was like the stench which had clung to Don Hemphill... but a thousand times worse.
"Oh shit."' Don roared. He had completely forgotten where he was, and remembering probably wouldn't have changed his language much.
"They've set one up here, too! Out! Out! Everybody out!"
"Move!" Nan Roberts bellowed in her lusty rush-hour-at-thediner baritone. "Move! Boss your freight, folks!"
They could all see where the stink was coming from-thick runners of whitish-yellow smog were pouring over the choir's waist high railing and through the diamond-shaped cut-outs in the low panels. The side door was just beneath the choir balcony, but no one thought of going in that direction. A stench that strong would kill you... but first your eyeballs would pop and your hair would fall out and your ass**le would seal itself shut in outraged horror.
The Baptist Anti-Gambling Christian Soldiers of Castle Rock became a routed army in less than five seconds. They stampeded toward the vestibule at the back of the church, screaming and gagging. One of the pews was overturned and hit the floor with a loud bang. Deborah johnstone's foot was pinned beneath it, and Norman Harper struck her broadside while she was struggling to pull it free.
Deborah fell over and there was a loud crack as her ankle broke.
She shrieked with pain, her foot still caught under the pew, but her cries went unheeded among so many others.
Rev. Rose was closest to the choir, and the stink closed over his head like a large, smelly mask. This is the smell of Catholics burning in hell, he thought confusedly, and leaped from the pulpit.
He landed squarely on Deborah Johnstone's midriff with both feet, and her shrieks became a long, choked wheeze that trailed away to nothing as she passed out. Rev. Rose, unaware that he had just knocked one of his most faithful parishioners unconscious, clawed his way toward the back of the church.
Those who reached the vestibule doors first discovered there was no escape to he had that way; the doors had been locked shut somehow.
Before they could turn back, these leaders of the proposed exodus were smashed flat against the locked doors by those behind them.
Screams, roars of outrage, and furious curses blued the air. And as the rain started outside, the vomiting began inside.
5
Betsy Vigue took her place at the Chairwoman's table between the American flag and the Infant of Prague banner. She rapped her knuckles for order, and the ladies-about forty in all-began to take their seats.
Outside, thunder banged across the sky. There were little screams and nervous laughter.
"I call this meeting of the Daughters of Isabella to order," Betsy said, and picked up her agenda. "We'll begin, as usual, by reading-" She stopped. There was a white business envelope lying on the table.
It had been beneath her agenda. The words typed on it glared up at her.
READ THIS RIGHT AWAY YOU POPE WHORE
Them, she thought. Those Baptists. Those ugly, nasty, smallminded people.
"Betsy?" Naomi jessup asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't know," she said, "I think so."
She tore the envelope open. A sheet of paper slid out. Typed on it was the following message:
THIS IS THE SMELL OF CATHOLIC CUNTS!
A hissing noise suddenly began to come from the left rear corner of the hall, a sound like an overburdened steam-pipe. Several of the women exclaimed and turned in that direction. Thunder whacked heartily overhead, and this time the screams were in earnest.
A whitish-yellow vapor was pouring from one of the cubbyholes at the side of the room. And suddenly the small one-room building was filled with the most awful smell any of them had ever experienced.
Betsy got to her feet, knocking over her chair. She had just opened her mouth-to say what, she had no idea-when a woman's voice outside cried, "This is because of Casino Nite, you bitches!
Repent! Repent!"