Free Boomtown by Nowen N. Particular

!”
    Janice agreed with me for once. “Sarah, honey, Mrs. Beedle has got the Spirit . That’s not something to laugh about.”
    Sarah leaned over the railing and tried to catch her breath. In between giggles, she finally managed to say, “Mrs. Beedle hasn’t got the Spirit! She’s got Whiskers !”
    Whiskers? What? Mrs. Beedle had a dark shadow over her lip. I guess it sort of looked like a mustache; but you could hardly call it “whiskers.” A waxing would help, a little concealer perhaps, maybe a light shave. That didn’t explain why she was twitching so much.
    Sarah banged on the railing and laughed and laughed. “Not whiskers on her face ! Whiskers up her dress ! Katrina’s gerbil! He got away, and Mrs. Beedle found him!”
    Just then, Mrs. Beedle jumped down from the chandelier. When she landed, Whiskers the gerbil finally popped loose. He must have climbed down the stairs and made his way under the pews until he found a warm, dark spot where he could hide. Unfortunately, it happened to be under the folds of Mrs. Beedle’s skirt.
    Now that she was free from the furry little rodent, Corine Beedle made a hasty exit. She grabbed her purse and straight-armed her way past the Widow Feeny at the door. She left in such a hurry that she even forgot her walker.
    â€œWait!” I called after her. “We’re so sorry! Don’t leave!”
    But she was gone, and it felt like she took the Spirit with her. At least, that’s what I thought. All I could think was that in the seventy-five years that Boomtown Church had been going, with twenty-four ministers who had been crushed and burned and drowned and blown up, every last one of them died with their boots on. To be buried in an avalanche— that’s something I could accept! To be carried off by a pack of ravenous wolves—okay, fair enough. To be trampled by a herd of angry goats, stung by killer bees, drowned in my own bath-tub, or choke on a peanut! Fine! I could deal with any of that! But to have my ministry come to a bitter end after only one day because of a gerbil ? It was humiliating!
    But this was Boomtown, I kept forgetting. Never in my wildest dreams could I have predicted the reaction of the members. I was suddenly surrounded by people who pounded me on the back, slapped me on the shoulders, and insisted on shaking my hand.
    â€œGood job, preacher!”
    â€œExcellent! ”
    â€œOutstanding!”
    â€œInspirational! ”
    â€œHow you gonna top it next week?”
    In the middle of it all was Sarah, like a shining star, carrying Whiskers (who seemed to be none the worse for wear). She was the perfect center of attention, being treated like the queen of the Nile. All the other little girls wanted to stand next to her. Most of them wanted to be her.
    â€œWow!” they said. “You burned down a building and you healed an old lady. What else can you do?”
    I don’t think I wanted to find out. For my part, I stood at the door of the church sheepishly shaking everyone’s hand as they exited. Without exception, they each said it was the best church service they’d ever attended. I thought it was the worst disaster I’d ever seen—worse even than the whole burning-down-the-research-lab disaster from two days before. But the members of Boomtown Church thought it was the greatest thing since the day they put fire into fire-crackers. What had I gotten myself into?
    When the sanctuary was nearly empty, a fellow stopped at the door to make his acquaintance. The man’s name was Terence Krebbs. He told me it was the very first time his family had visited the church.
    â€œWe haven’t been to church in more than fifteen years. But when we heard that the new preacher in town had blown up the fireworks factory, we wanted to come by and check things out. I just want to say that we have never had so much fun in church in our entire lives! We’re coming