"There's no script. Ah'll wing it. Ah'll show those ragheads in Tehran. They don't scare me!"
Quickly the electricians brought up the lights. The cameras moved into position. The soundman fussed with microphone levels.
And the Reverend Eldon Sluggard got up on the dais in front of a great flat map of the world. He picked a steel pointer off the Lucite podium. He paced impatiently, collapsing and expanding the pointer grimly.
Victoria was right. One setback wasn't going to knock Eldon Sluggard on his ass. That woman sure had a way of putting things in perspective. Especially when she got down on her knees.
"Whenever you're ready, El," the director called.
"Okay. Now," said Eldon Sluggard decisively. His voice dropped into a deeper register. It was his preaching voice. In the glory days of the Eldon Sluggard World Ministries, it used to make the over-sixty crowd swoon. But now Eldon Sluggard was targeting an entirely different demographic group.
"We're on," the director called, throwing a cue. Eldon Sluggard faced the camera squarely. The red light came on. He smiled expansively.
"This is the Reverend Eldon Sluggard, and Ah'm speakin' to the youth of America. Yes, you. Don't reach out for the channel selector because it's not just me knockin', it's God. God Almighty, and your country." Eldon Sluggard took a deep breath.
"You love your country, Don't you? And you want to see it strong. And you want to see it continue to be Christian. Well, Ah want that too. Hallelujah! But there's some who have designs on our sweet nation. Maybe you don't read the papers. Maybe your folks don't talk about this around the dinner table. And you know why? 'Cause they're scared too! That's right. Even as Ah'm standin' here talkin' at you, there are people in a foreign capital plotting to take over this country. No, it's not the Russians, bad as they are. It ain't the Chinese either. It's worse people. You've seen them on TV, talkin' out of both sides of their scrubby beards. You've heard how they once held our diplomats hostage for more than a year."
Sluggard pounded the Lucite podium with a fat fist. "That's right. You know who Ah'm talkin' about. It's those mullahs in Ah-ran. You can see it on this here map."
Eldon Sluggard whipped the pointer in his hand like a car aerial. It jetted out its full length. He placed the point over the Persian Gulf. On the map, it was called the Pershing Gulf, but the camera wouldn't show that because the lettering was too small.
"This is Ah-ran," he went on. "The most brutal, repressive nation on earth. You see this gimcrack here? That's what they call a red crescent. It's got nothing to do with Communism. This is the symbol of the Moslems. Now the people in Ah-ran are Moslems. They ain't like us. Not that Ah'm against Moslems, you understand. There are good Moslems and there are bad Moslems. You look around the Middle East here, and parts of Africa, and you see a whole lot of these little red crescents. Most of these other countries belong to the Moslem world. But they belong to the Sunni Moslems. Ah-ran belongs to the other kind, the Shiites. Now if you have trouble keepin' 'em straight, Ah'll let you in on a little trick. The Sunni Moslems are the good Moslems. Ah kinda nicknamed them the sunny Moslems on account of they're always happy and smiling. Now, the other kind, Ah call the shitty Moslems on account of them being assholes.
"Now you're probably askin' yourself, what's the Reverend Eldon Sluggard doin' usin' language like that on TV, him a man of God and all. Well, Ah'll tell you. God don't expect a Christian to take offenses lying down. And Ah'm mad as hell. Ah have a hatred-a holy righteous hatred-against these shitty Moslems. Ah hate them because of the hostages they took. Ah hate them because they want to choke off the Pershing-er, Persian Gulf, which is this hunk of water right here, and keep us from getting our oil out. No oil, no cars. No cars, no Saturday-night dates."
Reverend Sluggard paused to wipe his sweating brow clean.
"But most of all, Ah hate these shitty Moslems because they ain't satisfied with Ah-ran. No, sir. They want the whole damn world. They especially want America. They don't want us like the Reds want us. No, the Russians, bad as they are, want to take our religion from us. They want us to deny Christ. But these bad Moslems, they won't be satisfied with that. No. They want us to throw out our Holy Bibles and replace them with their book, the Koran. They want all of us good Americans to be Moslems like them. They want to turn the clock back. You know all these good things you got? Your music? Well rock-and-roll will be the first to go.
And you girls. You like your make-up? In Ah-ran, Moslem girls your age got to wear a veil. If you're pretty, you got to hide that fact. If you want to get married, you gotta sit around in a room until some Moslem guy picks you out. Then you gotta marry him. He could be as ugly as sin-and a lot of Ah-ranians are-but you gotta marry him anyway. That's the Moslem law, the law the mullahs in Ah-ran want to export to our Christian America.
"What's that, you say?" Reverend Eldon Sluggard said suddenly, cocking an ear to the camera. He fingered the ear forward.
"You don't believe it? You find this hard to swallow. Never heard of this stuff before? Well, you don't have to take Reverend Sluggard's word for it. You can look it up. That's right. These mullahs aren't just whisperin' these things among themselves. They've given speeches, big as life. They're callin' for a Moslem world, ruled by their ayatollahs.
Sluggard whipped his pointer out again.
"Look at this here map again. You see all these other countries? These ones with crosses on 'em? Those are the Christian countries. Lots of them, you say? Sure. Now. But what about in five years? In ten? Can you be sure Mexico won't become a Moslem country? Or Canada? And if that happens, what about us? It'll be too late to think about fightin' back when we're surrounded.
"Ah hear some of you laughin' out there. What have you got to laugh about? You settin' there in your comfortable homes with stereos and CD players. You got it soft. And the mullahs know it. They know you ain't got the faith. They know you're a soft target. Ah'll bet most of you don't go to church. Ah'll bet most of you wouldn't lift a finger to defend Christianity.
"Well, those of you who won't, why don't you get along with your having fun and your blind ways? Because Ah'm through talkin' to you milk-livered cowards. Ah want to talk to the smart ones whose palms are sweatin' at the sound of mah words. Ah'm directing mah words at the ones who are seein' red at the thought of those ragheads taking over this great free Christian land of ours. Ah'm talking to you! Are you afraid? Well, you oughta be. You oughta be terrified. Ah know Ah am. Sometimes. Ah've been warnin' about this for years. And you know what? Word got back to them mullahs. Sure. They heard about me. They're afraid of me. And now they're tryin' to get me. It's in the papers. You can look it up. But they ain't got me yet. Because Ah'm a fighter. That's right, Ah'm willin' to fight far mah way of life-mah Christian way of life. When the chips are down, are you?"
Eldon Sluggard took a deep breath. He felt dizzy. He pressed on.
"That's why Eldon Sluggard has decided to take the gloves off. No more speechifyin'. No more warnin'. This is war! These mullahs got a thing they call a jihad. You know what that means? It's mullah talk for a holy war. Well, Ah got just the thing to counter their wicked jihad. It's called a crusade. You've heard the word, right? But how many of you know what it really means? Well, Ah'll tell you.
"A crusade is a kind of war. But it's not like other wars. This kind of war is blessed by the Almighty. Because regardless of what you may have heard, the Almighty don't want us to turn our cheeks to his enemies. No, God wants us to smite the Moslem heathen. And this is what Ah'm offerin' you. A chance to smite the enemies of Christianity.
"Got your blood worked up, have Ah? Want to know more? Then grab a pencil. There's gonna be a toll-free number coming on at the bottom of your TV screen any second now. Ah want you to write it dawn. Write it down now. And give me a call. Ah want you to make a pledge for Christ. Ah want you to join my Cross Crusade. No, Ah don't want money. You can keep your money. Ah want you. Yes, you! Ah want you to give me a little of your time. That's all Ah can say on the air. But if you're as worked up as Ah am about these shitty Moslems, you call this minute. There's committed anti-Moslem folks here ready and able to tell you more.
"But before Ah go, Ah want to leave you with this bit of Scripture from Colossians," said Reverend Eldon Sluggard, his voice descending into an attention-getting whisper. " 'For Ah took the flashin' sword of the Lord God and Ah disembowled my enemies. And yea, with the Lord at my side, Ah clove their heads from their necks, and as the blood spurted, Ah chopped their hands from their wrists, and their feet from their ankles, and when Ah was done, Ah plunged my sword deep into their quiverin' vitals.' "
Eldon Sluggard clapped the big blank book shut. "And that's how God wants us to deal with his enemies. Won't you join him now and smite a Moslem for Jesus?"
Eldon Sluggard took a deep breath and fixed the camera with a steely stare.
"That's a cut," the director yelled. The red light went out and Eldon Sluggard pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off his sweat-drenched face. He looked under his armpits. They were soaked.
"That was great, El. I've never seen you better."
"Thanks. Have mah media advisers check it over. Then get ready to run it on the commercial spots for today's show. One during the first break and again during the last one."
Eldon Sluggard left the studio. If that didn't get them worked up and calling in by the thousands, nothing would.
It was going to work this time. He could feel it deep inside him.
Three hours later, Eidon Sluggard's Get with God program was going out live over the air. After the first fifteen minutes, in which he peddled Eldon Sluggard's tape-cassette prayers and Eldon Sluggard's five-step plan to worldly riches, the director cut to the Cross Crusade commercial.
Eldon Sluggard watched on the monitor. He thought he had never put more passion in his voice, more fire in his delivery.
He had excellent reason to. He believed in his Cross Crusade. It sounded as good today as it did when Victoria Hoar, her tongue sliding down his belly to the jackpot, first explained it to him.
"Your ministry is going to hell in a handbasket," she said.
"Ah know it. Everyone knows it. And Ah'm not alone. This TV thing has been milked to death."
"Don't talk. Listen."
"You ain't tellin' me anything Ah don't already know. What Ah want-mmmm. Ahhh ... oh, God."
When Victoria Hoar's mouth disengaged itself, she went on speaking. She had Eldon Sluggard's undivided attention. He was quivering from head to toe.
"The problem is that you've been targeting the same audience the others have. Everyone has been fishing in the same pond."
"That's where the big money is. Old ladies. Widows. The lonely ones. Most of them are on welfare or Social Security. They got nothing but despair. Ah reach out to them and Ah say, 'You give me some of that money in God's name and God will repay you three fold.' They believe it. Ah call it 'Investing in Heaven.' "
"I call it soaking the gullible."
"It works."
"Did work. But no more."
"Guess it worked too good," Eldon Sluggard mused, staring at the ceiling.
"The idea is sound. But now you go after the second-most-gullible demographic group possible."