but not a very lively one, so of course I invited her to ours the next day.
‘Melanie,’ I plucked up courage to ask at last, ‘why do you have such a funny name?’
She blushed. ‘When I was born I looked like a melon.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her, ‘you don’t any more.’
The first time that Melanie came to our church was not a success. I’d forgotten that Pastor Finch was visiting on his regional tour. He arrived in an old Bedford van with the terrified damned painted on one side and the heavenly host painted on the other. On the back doors and front bonnet he’d inscribed in green lettering, HEAVEN OR HELL? IT’S YOUR CHOICE. He was very proud of the bus, and told of the many miracles worked inside and out. Inside had six seats, so that the choir could travel with him, leaving enough room for musical instruments and a large first-aid kit in case the demon combusted somebody.
‘What do you do about the flames?’ we asked.
‘I use an extinguisher,’ he explained.
We were very impressed.
There was a collapsible cross that fitted across the back doors, and a very small sink so that the pastor could wash his hands after every operation.
‘Water is of the essence,’ he reminded us, ‘just as Christ bade the swine leap into the sea, so I rinse the demon under this tap.’
After we had all admired the bus for long enough, Pastor Finch led us back into the church and asked his choir to sing his latest composition. ‘It came to me from the Lord, just as I left Sandbach Motorway Services.’ The song was called
You Don’t Need Spirits When You’ve Got the Spirit
. The first verse went like this …
‘Some men turn to whisky, some women turn to gin, But there ain’t no better rapture than drinking the spirit in.
Some men like their beer, others like their wine, But open your mouth to the Spirit, if you want to feel fine.’
The choir sang this and the rest of the verses, six in all, and we had a sheet to join in the chorus, which was accompanied by Pastor Finch on the bongos.
The chorus went like this …
‘Not whisky rye not gin and dry not rum and coke for me.
Not brandy fizz but a Spiritual whizz puts the fire in me.’
We had a wonderful time. Danny got out his guitar and picked up the chords, then May started beating out that twelve-bar on her tambourine. Before long we were all in a long line going clockwise round the church singing the chorus over and over again.
‘The Lord is working mightily,’ puffed Pastor Finch, smacking the bongos with his palms. ‘Praise the Lord.’
‘Roy, don’t tax yourself so,’ fussed Mrs Finch who wasdesperately trying to keep up on the piano. ‘Somebody take those bongos off him.’ But nobody did, and it wasn’t until Mrs Rothwell fell over that we finally stopped.
It was only then that I noticed that Melanie hadn’t joined in.
‘Now for the sermon,’ shouted Pastor Finch, and we all settled back to enjoy ourselves. He told us about the doings of his tour, how many souls had been saved, how many good souls, oppressed by the demon, had found peace once again.
‘I’m not one to boast,’ he reminded us, ‘but the Lord has given me a mighty gift.’ We murmured our agreement. Then we were shocked as he described the epidemic of demons, even now spreading through the north west. Lancashire and Cheshire had been particular blighted; only the day before he had cleansed a whole family in Cheadle Hulme.
‘Ridden they were.’ His eyes roamed the hushed congregation. ‘Yes, ridden, and do you know why?’ He took a step back. We didn’t make a sound. ‘Unnatural Passions.’
A tremor shook the gathering. Not all of us were sure what he meant, but all of us knew it was dreadful. I glanced across at Melanie; she looked like she was going to be sick.
‘Must be the Spirit,’ I thought, and gave her hand a little squeeze. She jumped, and stared at me. Yes, definitely the Spirit.
At the end of his very fine sermon, Pastor Finch made
‘Melanie,’ I plucked up courage to ask at last, ‘why do you have such a funny name?’
She blushed. ‘When I was born I looked like a melon.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her, ‘you don’t any more.’
The first time that Melanie came to our church was not a success. I’d forgotten that Pastor Finch was visiting on his regional tour. He arrived in an old Bedford van with the terrified damned painted on one side and the heavenly host painted on the other. On the back doors and front bonnet he’d inscribed in green lettering, HEAVEN OR HELL? IT’S YOUR CHOICE. He was very proud of the bus, and told of the many miracles worked inside and out. Inside had six seats, so that the choir could travel with him, leaving enough room for musical instruments and a large first-aid kit in case the demon combusted somebody.
‘What do you do about the flames?’ we asked.
‘I use an extinguisher,’ he explained.
We were very impressed.
There was a collapsible cross that fitted across the back doors, and a very small sink so that the pastor could wash his hands after every operation.
‘Water is of the essence,’ he reminded us, ‘just as Christ bade the swine leap into the sea, so I rinse the demon under this tap.’
After we had all admired the bus for long enough, Pastor Finch led us back into the church and asked his choir to sing his latest composition. ‘It came to me from the Lord, just as I left Sandbach Motorway Services.’ The song was called
You Don’t Need Spirits When You’ve Got the Spirit
. The first verse went like this …
‘Some men turn to whisky, some women turn to gin, But there ain’t no better rapture than drinking the spirit in.
Some men like their beer, others like their wine, But open your mouth to the Spirit, if you want to feel fine.’
The choir sang this and the rest of the verses, six in all, and we had a sheet to join in the chorus, which was accompanied by Pastor Finch on the bongos.
The chorus went like this …
‘Not whisky rye not gin and dry not rum and coke for me.
Not brandy fizz but a Spiritual whizz puts the fire in me.’
We had a wonderful time. Danny got out his guitar and picked up the chords, then May started beating out that twelve-bar on her tambourine. Before long we were all in a long line going clockwise round the church singing the chorus over and over again.
‘The Lord is working mightily,’ puffed Pastor Finch, smacking the bongos with his palms. ‘Praise the Lord.’
‘Roy, don’t tax yourself so,’ fussed Mrs Finch who wasdesperately trying to keep up on the piano. ‘Somebody take those bongos off him.’ But nobody did, and it wasn’t until Mrs Rothwell fell over that we finally stopped.
It was only then that I noticed that Melanie hadn’t joined in.
‘Now for the sermon,’ shouted Pastor Finch, and we all settled back to enjoy ourselves. He told us about the doings of his tour, how many souls had been saved, how many good souls, oppressed by the demon, had found peace once again.
‘I’m not one to boast,’ he reminded us, ‘but the Lord has given me a mighty gift.’ We murmured our agreement. Then we were shocked as he described the epidemic of demons, even now spreading through the north west. Lancashire and Cheshire had been particular blighted; only the day before he had cleansed a whole family in Cheadle Hulme.
‘Ridden they were.’ His eyes roamed the hushed congregation. ‘Yes, ridden, and do you know why?’ He took a step back. We didn’t make a sound. ‘Unnatural Passions.’
A tremor shook the gathering. Not all of us were sure what he meant, but all of us knew it was dreadful. I glanced across at Melanie; she looked like she was going to be sick.
‘Must be the Spirit,’ I thought, and gave her hand a little squeeze. She jumped, and stared at me. Yes, definitely the Spirit.
At the end of his very fine sermon, Pastor Finch made
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