Mama Was a Preacher

Mama was a Preacher Chapter Nine The Count. Copyright 1996 AUTHOR22@aol.com All rights reserved.

We were about an hour out of Little Rock, heading toward Memphis, creeping along behind the bus as it lumbered up a long steep hill when Jerry shouted "What in the hell is that?". I pulled my gaze from the wide white butt of the school bus in front of us to Jerry and saw that he was looking back behind us through the side view mirror on his side of the station wagon. I adjusted the position of my head to where I could use the mirror on my side and saw a strange apparition indeed. It was not much more than a reflective dot at the distance it was behind us, but it was closing on us at an extreme rate. As it neared I could see that the majority of the reflected light was coming from a headlight; the rest from a man's head.

He was coming onto us so fast that when he disappeared from view behind the trailer I instinctively braced myself for impact. I looked at Jerry. He was gripping the steering wheel, white knuckled, gritting his teeth, expecting the same as I was. When no perceivable impact was felt Jerry shouted "Damn! Where did he go!!!". At that Jackie, who had been snoozing in the back, woke up.

"Alright. What's going on?" Jackie asked, setting up, then trying to look behind us.

"Some nut on a bike almost clobbered the trailer! Can't you hear him back there?"

"Yeah... Harley I think. Could be an Indian though."

Our entourage was just beginning to pick up speed after the bus topped the hill. The steady drone of the motorcycle behind us suddenly erupted into a deafening roar. Around the trailer he shot, even though the distance to the next hill top was not that far. He was roaring to a speed in excess of 100 as he passed by. The lumbering bus had already started to slow on the grade of the next hill as Jerry cried, "OH SHIT!," and clamped his eyes shut, again white knuckled on the wheel. A simi flashed past and in terror I straightened up so fast that I bumped my head against the roof of the station wagon.

"Did he make it?!!!" I screamed.

"Barely! Just barely!" Jerry answered, tension draining from his body, "Death wish... That jerk has got to have a death wish!"

"Well maybe yes, maybe no... There is a difference between really wanting to die and not being scared of death " Jackie replied.

Jackie's observation started a chain of thoughts, all which lead towards the sermon to be presented in Memphis.

In my studies with Rabbi Solomon one particular philosophical difference between the old testament and the new was the attitude about death. All throughout the older collection was the view that the wages of sin was death. If you were a thief you died. If you slept with a woman who was not of your culture you died. There seemed to be no gray, only black and white. If you did wrong you were to be put to death.

The old Jewish religious leaders held their people by the short hairs. In such a political setting it isn't surprising that Christ had met his death. The cultures of the Jews and the Romans had clashed, but in the end those in control of their people had their way.

The three of us discussed this point all the way to Memphis. Jackie pointed out that when two cultures clashed, it was a clashing of belief systems. It was like bringing a lit candle into a room full of dynamite.

Jerry questioned whether that was still the case in the modern world.

"You are Damn right it is. If you have the chance read Mitchner's book 'HAWAII'. The Hawaiian monarchy came to an end because of a clashing of cultures, and that was less than a hundred years ago."

It was just past noon when we passed into the city limits, and another 20 minutes to the vacant lot we were to use for our meetings. Ray had booked the same vacant lot from the Pentecostal Church that we had occupied two years earlier.

The Revival Ministry had ordered a Class "A" Audio Line from Southern Bell. Our services would be broadcast from the first day to the last.

The Boss had been keeping close tabs on me, paying particular attention to my changing philosophical viewpoint. He kept cautioning me about by sermons not becoming too radical. "You gotta remember you are in the Bible Belt, and that's gotta be the most conservative religious place on earth. You start talking about the Torah or Judaism and your gonna leave these people in the dark. Hell, most of them have never even met a Jew much less understand their religion.

Love, commitment, and death were the most fundamental of human events. Most of the bible concentrated on these three situations. Ray's starting point had always been the book of Matthew; mine would be more basic: Love, Commitment, Death. Yet, as Jackie had expounded, "Don't trample on peoples belief systems," I would need to use caution. If I were to change belief systems it would need to be done slowly and cautiously. I would need to use every tool at my disposal. I realized that I must learn to use "the Thing". As my thoughts continued, I could again feel that strange presence. I wasn't alone. The woman in white lurked in the background.

It wasn't until after the tent had been erected, and everything made ready that we had a conference. We needed to "fix" what happened in Little Rock. Ray ALWAYS turned the meeting over to someone else to bring the services to a conclusion. Before mama had joined the Gregorys' it had been Sister Ruth's responsibility. Mama did it better. However, when mama was the preacher it was either Ruth or Ray that closed the meeting with the call for sinners.

It was my job to do the fishing; bait the hook, reel them in. But as with big game fish, the task of getting them on board was left to others. In this case it was necessary to get them on board and remove the hook without harming the target. Staying onboard was voluntary. The old Jews had the advantage; if you didn't do it their way the alternative was death.

The Boss took it back to basics. What was our goal? What did we hope to achieve with this tour? He pointed out that unlike the Gregory's meetings, our first objective was to conduct the song-fest at the end of our stay in each city. The next objective was conducting services which would meet the needs of the Revival Ministry. The last objective was to learn more about "the Thing", and how to use it.

Both Jackie's and my primary interests were in "the Thing". If we truly understood it, then it would be an important tool in achieving the first two objectives.

We spent many hours discussing the tool. I was convinced that it was all a matter of rhythm. All of our group not only listened, but contributed. However, Jackie and I were the prime movers. I had pointed out that if you moved your hand around in a tub of water, the movement would build to a point were you lost control.

Ho talked about the pendulum he had seen at the Griffith Park Observatory in Los Angeles. Once the pendulum began it's swing it took very little power to maintain that full swing, yet the size of the weight and the distance it swung was significant.

Steven contributed that's the way radio transmitters worked. You put electrical current into a coil-capacitor combination at specific intervals and the current would do pretty much the same thing as the pendulum. While it took very little power to sustain the oscillation, it took substantial amounts of power to control it. Even tuning forks worked that way. He pointed out that once full resonance was established the voltage values could be phenomenal. While the source voltage could be less than a hundred volts, the voltage across each of the components could be in the thousands.

Robbie commented on the Atomic Bomb and how resonance was the key to a chain reaction.

I think it was Ho who first talked about lynchings and mob mentality. He felt there was a lot of similarity between the physical world and human behavior.

We all could see rhythm in everything we did. Music, eating, even sex.

How interrelated were the events of our lives? How did each contribute to the other, or were they isolated? Did the world of human behavior parallel the physical world? Did the same laws apply?

The first service in Memphis had been better planed. It would be my task to encompass music at the end of my contribution, and to transfer that full energy level to Jackie and the others. To do this they would need to stay alert to emotional levels, and be ready to merge with music at that same level. Like moving the gear shift in a car, you didn't want to grind the gears.

I had given Jackie the song list that I wanted to use that first night, but at the last minute I felt led to change the opening. Jackie was curious as to what I was going to do, but it was too late to inquire. We were about forty five minutes before air time. All of the seats were occupied, but there were still cars pulling into our lot. I took one of the hand microphones and went to the edge of the stage. "Friends, I want to play a game with you before we start the services. I have an objective in doing this, and the game is really an old one that you probably played when you were a child." I left the platform and walked down to a man in his early thirties who occupied the last seat on the right hand side of the first row. I asked him to stand, then said, "I am going to whisper a sentence in your ear. I would like for you to repeat the sentence to the person sitting immediately to your right. He in turn will repeat what you have told him to the person on his right. At the end of this row, that person will re-tell to the person behind him. The sentence will be passed from person to person traveling up the right hand section. Then at the back, the last person will repeat the sentence to the first person on the left section. It will eventually end with the last person in the front row of the left section." I moved the microphone away from my mouth, and whispered into the ear of the first man, "Johann Gutenberg invented the first practical printing press in the 14th century." I moved away from him, and then said to the audience, "If any of you are not sure that you have the sentence right, you may ask the person who told you, to repeat it." I moved back to the stage.

Jackie was smiling a quizzical smile. Obviously everyone wondered just what I was going to do.

I pointed to the last person who would hear the sentence and asked her to raise her hand as soon as she understood what was passed to her.

I joined the others at the piano. "This is going to take a little time, so lets sing."

Jackie asked what kind of a mood I wanted to establish, and I told him just a pleasant, happy go lucky, fun mood. Nothing too loud, just pleasant and uplifting.

It took almost a half hour before the young lady in the front row raised her hand. I asked her and the man to whom I had whispered the sentence, to join me on the stage. Turning to her I said, "Tell me what you were told."

She faced the audience, and said, "Guber went to Mayberry in 1944."

"Sir, what did I tell you?"

The gentlemen leaned into the microphone, "Johann Gutenberg invented the first practical printing press in the 14th century."

Everyone in the audience laughed.

My two guests returned to their seats.

I moved behind the podium. "Our bible is divided into two sections, the Old Testament, and the New Testament. Our Jewish friends limit their interest to the old testament. In the past two years I have been concentrating on the old testament, trying to understand the soil in which Christianity is rooted. And you know friends I have made some startling discoveries. I will pass those discoveries on to you a little later. The Jewish faith is based on a slightly different version of the old testament called the 'Torah', and it is here that I first discovered the foundation. Did you know that the Old Testament, and the Torah are divided into three parts. They sure are!"

I made a point of opening my bible, then lifting it in my left hand above my head and continued, "The first of the three sections is the LAW OF GOD!", I paused, then moved towards the edge of the platform, "The second part is the word of the prophets," I changed my voice to a more humorous tone, "And the third part could be called 'Recommended Reading'."

"Now the purpose of the first section is pretty clear ... It is GODS LAW. And to most of us The Law is the Law. But then of course we are not lawyers." That brought a chuckle from the congregation. "You might say that the word of the prophets is a bit like the word of the supreme court. It is an INTERPRETATION of the Law. It defines what each law means. But WHY does the Law need defining? Good question. If Laws are created by man, and we all know MAN is imperfect, then we can understand why the Law itself is not definitive. But GOD is perfect. Then WHY does his word need to be interpreted. I'm going to leave that hot potato for a few minutes." I paused, then laughingly said, "But you may be assured we aren't going to leave it at that."

I could feel a stirring out front. There was no question about it, I had their undivided attention. They were listening to every word I was saying. I was drawing the pendulum from its neutral point, lifting it toward the maximum point of potential energy.

"Now we come to the third part ... Recommended reading. That encompasses the majority of the Old Testament. Who wrote it and why? Of even greater interest is Who READ IT!?." I was at the edge of the stage. I pulled the mic far from my lips and shouted, "It was more than fourteen hundred years AFTER the time of CHRIST that the printing press was invented. Before that time everything was either written by hand, or passed on by word of mouth."

I looked out front. You could have heard a pin drop. "And believe me when I tell you that 'Guber going to Mayberry in 1944' was NOT what I told THAT young man."

The pendulum was at it's peak.

I leaped into the air and released the pendulum. "For our BIBLE to have survived century's of being told, and retold is the greatest miracle in the universe."

And I didn't believe a word of what I said. I knew there had been dozens of translations, most of which had been politically motivated; and that included the King James version ... especially the King James version. James had been a writer and a mystic. It was under his supervision that the bible had been translated. He, under his own authorship, had written books on Kingship, Theology, and Witchcraft.

"For the last half hour I've been trying to figure out how to say, succinctly what I mean without becoming offensive, and I'm afraid the best I can do is BS. I'm sure all of you are aware what BS means. It's what you step in after dark in a pasture. It's what you are exposed to everytime you listen to a politician. And unfortunately it's what you hear most of the time in church."

There was dead silence, then almost a moan came from the audience.

"Bear with me friends, and you'll see that what I am saying is not BS. Almost every re-teller of the scriptures has had his own particular political reason for interpreting the bible the way he did. OK. I want every person in this audience who believes in witches, to raise their hand."

I paused, and looked over the congregation, there was not a single hand raised.

"I have studied the ancient Hebrew scriptures and can find NO mention of witches. Yet the word witches and witchcraft are in the King James version of the bible. You'll find it in every 'Law' book of the bible. You'll find witchcraft even mentioned in the New Testament. Now, where in the world did that come from. Well, we know that King James certainly believed in witches. In fact he wrote a whole book about it. We know the Catholics believed in witches. They burned them at the stake." I leaned over towards the audience and whispered into the microphone. "We know that almost everyone believed in witches in the middle ages. Do you think that's were the idea of witches first entered OUR BIBLE. Doesn't that make you wonder if the bible is truly the word of God... Or maybe, just maybe the word of God as interpreted by someone else."

The pendulum was now at the other extreme. I would add the push that would swing it back, continuing the oscillation.

"Let's use our heads. God gave us a brain. Let's use it to shovel the BS out of the path of true righteousness. How many of you KNOW with a certainty that you are NOT DEAD? Raise your hands." Everyone raised their hands.

"Ah Ha! I've caught you. I have yet to define what I mean by dead; your idea of dead may be different than mine. So let me tell you what I meant when I asked if you KNEW that you were NOT DEAD. That had been a philosophical question. I meant were you DEAD in the eyes of Mohammed. Well, according to the KORAN if you do not believe in their religion, you ARE DEAD. Interestingly, the Christians think the same way about the followers of Islam."

"I'll redefined DEAD to mean the loss of all vital signs, then we are all in agreement and can move on."

"How many of you have ever been in LOVE? Please raise your hands."

Very few hands had been raised. "I can see you aren't going to fall into the same trap twice. Good. You are thinking. My definition of love is a total appreciation of another person. It is when two people synchronize, and for all intent and purposes merge into a single creature. You fill a need in one another. You don't want to be separated. OK, now within that definition I want you to raise your hands."

Almost everyone had raised their hands.

"Great, we have now defined two of the most basic terms in the life of human beings. Death. Love. Is their anything in our lives that doesn't start with either of those two words."

"Birth comes from love. Loves comes as a result of Birth. Death is the end of life. But, oddly, Death does not end love. And here is another oddity, the bible does not DEFINE LOVE."

I looked over at Jerry and wondered if I should take the next step. Should I truly define love by example. I decided it would be best to wait till later ... much later. Even my own group wasn't ready for what I wanted to say next.

With purpose I decided to give the pendulum no more pushes; let it dampen it's self to an end.

Unlike Little Rock there would be no blow out, no flat tire. But, also there would be no further tool testing with the audience. I realized I needed to know where I was going before further exploration.

The service had come to an end. Nothing phenomenal had occurred. It was like a tuning fork that had been tapped.

I had started to join the others at the piano when I heard someone speak, "Johnny. Brother Johnny, do you have a minute?"

I looked towards the now vacant front row of seats, and there was the blonde boy from Little Rock. "Hi. What brings you all the way to Memphis?"

"I wanted to hear your sermon. It sounded to me like you were on a roll, and then suddenly you put on the breaks. Am I right?"

"Something like that. By the way, what's your name?"

"Charlie. Charlie Rogers." He extended his hand. The grasp was firm, warm, and very personal.

"Well, Charlie, you are right. The whole service went in a direction I had not planned. And like building a house, if you don't have a set of plans, it just might fall down."

"I don't think I'd say that it fell down. Just kind of left hanging in the air."

"How long are you going to be in Memphis?"

Charlies reply surprised me. "Until you leave."

"Well, if that's the case I'd like for you to meet the rest of the gang. OK?"

"That would be great." Charlie had climbed up on the platform and we proceeded towards the piano. The entire group was watching us.

I introduced the boy by our nicknames. "This is, The Boss, Cowboy, Ho, Jew Boy, and Stack. Gang this is Charlie. Charlie Rogers."

I had presented them going from left to right. The boy shook hands with each. "You can call me Sunshine."

Ho asked, "How'd you get a nickname like that?"

Cowboy said, "That's pretty obvious, just look at his smile."

Sunshine had long blonde hair. While it looked shaggy, it also looked like he brushed it frequently. His face was round. His cheeks were just a little on the reddish side like he blushed permanently. He was of medium height, but very well built. His shirt was a simple pull over in a light blue shade. His trousers were slacks that were neither tight nor loose. He wore white tennis shoes.

Without saying a word, he had examined each of us, making instant judgments on our personalities and relationships.

"Sunshine attended our meetings in Little Rock, and decided he wanted more, so he's going to be with us for our stay in Memphis." While I had directed the statement at the entire group, it was Cowboys face that my eyes had latched on to. I had expected a sign of jealousy, and was surprised to see that there was none.

Stack asked the boy where he was staying.

"In the back seat of my car. I've got a sleeping bag and a car cover. Would it be OK if I park here?"

"I don't see why not. By the way where is June?" I asked.

Sunshine gave me an odd look, and an even weirder smile. "I thought you knew. She went back to her husband."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

"You didn't. After all, I did decide to follow you instead of shacking up with her."

Cowboy was watching this interchange. Sunshine noticed, and gave him a tap on the stomach. "Don't worry. You've got your territory well marked. That's not my area of interest."

Deep down inside I was hoping that Sunshine was not telling the truth. The intrigue of sex with a stranger had grasped me again as it had when I first met Ho. But unlike Ho, Sunshines sexuality was not openly displayed ... yet it was there. Intrigue is one thing, but Cowboy and I were as one. I asked myself that if that was true, then might not Cowboy feel as did I?

The congregation had left. It was time to tidy up the place. Jackie took charge assigning the menial tasks; lining up the chairs, picking up the litter, lowering and securing the sides of the tent.

"Johnny, you and Cowboy take the back bedroom in the trailer. Peter and Ho can sleep in the Bus. I'm going to visit my Grandmother, and will probably stay there the night. Robbie is going with me. So Steven, that leaves you with the couch in the trailer." He looked at Charlie. "If your car get's too cramped, you can put your sleeping bag in the tent."

Steven commented on the Memphis heat and humidity, and chose to sleep in the tent.

"Johnny, I want to talk to you a minute." The Boss walked me toward the trailer. "What it in holy hell were you trying to do tonight."

"I wanted to establish some basics, to prove that the bible is much more than a set of rules by which to live."

"Well, the only thing you succeeded in doing was proving to everyone that the bible was all BULL SHIT!"

"Jackie, I disagree with you. It's just that there wasn't enough time for me to cover all that I needed to say."

"But that's my point. And you aren't going to have a chance to correct your goof. I'll bet you that less than fifty percent of tomorrows audience will be repeats. And I can't wait to see what response the radio listeners are going to have. One thing for certain, today's tapes ain't going to Ray."

The others didn't seem to have an opinion. But the Boss was the Boss. I may have disagreed with him, but we were here today, doing what we were doing as a result of following him.

"Come on Robbie, let's get going. Grandma is waiting up for us."

The Boss and Jew Boy headed for the station wagon.

"Hey wait up. Our sleeping gear is in the back." Peter and Danny ran after them.

Charlie started towards his car. "See you guys in the morning."

Jerry and I looked at each other for just a moment. Then Jerry called after Sunshine, "We've got a shower in the trailer if you need it."

We slowly walked the few yards to the trailer, opened the door and then closed it behind us. "What do you think?" Jerry was referring to Charlie Rogers.

"I think he is something else. I'd love to get him into the sack with us. BUT the key word here is US. How do you feel about it."

"Same as you of course. I'd like to get a gander at whats under those clothes. But there is something else that I can't put my finger on. I don't know why but I know that he doesn't pose any risk."

Jerry closed the curtains on the big glass window while I pulled down the covers on our bed.

"I know where you were headed with your sermon tonight. I'd have backed you all the way, but I sure don't think the audience would have."

Jerry started to remove his clothes, but I had beat him to it, and entered the shower. "Come scrub my back." I loved the way that he washed my back. His hands were always firm, allowing his fingernails to scratch a little as they moved over the skin. A brush would probably have done the same thing ... but a brush can't rub in the lotion of love. His fingers were crossing my buttocks. I spun around, grabbing him, and yanked him into the small shower. He was still wearing his briefs. The water had turned them transparent. A quick glance downward confirmed that his love was being fully expressed. My lips gained a purchase on his, as I drew his tongue fully into my mouth. The water continued to pour down over our heads and shoulders. My bare cock was at full attention as Jerry continued to explore my mouth with his tongue.

There was a knock at the door. Rapidly we regained our composure. Jerry hurriedly dried himself and laid upon the bed. I took his damp towel and wrapped it around me. My hair was still dripping as I opened the door. It was Sunshine. He had a towel draped over his shoulders.

"Thought I'd take you up on the offer." The blonde boy moved past me towards the back of the room.

"Great. I'm glad you decided to. After you're done we want to talk with you." I looked over at Jerry in confirmation of what I knew we both wanted.

Charlie had removed his shoes and shirt. Both Jerry and I avoided staring at what was to come next. Nonchalantly, he unbuckled his belt, and stepped out of his slacks. His tight jockey shorts hid more than they displayed. His lips formed a smile, as he glanced at both Jerry and myself. Then slowly and quite deliberately, he lowered the underwear to his ankles, kicked them on to our bed, and disappeared into the privacy of the shower.

I joined Jerry, pulling the sheets over our nakedness. We must have felt restrained, as we lay on opposite sides of the bed. But our hands surreptitiously joined.

The water went off. We could hear the sound of a towel moving rapidly across bare skin. The door opened. Charlie stepped out. His towel was draped around his neck. Otherwise he was absolutely naked. He had a beautiful butt. Jerry confirmed like feelings as his hand squeezed mine.

"Charlie, come up here between us, and let's have that talk." Jerry had voiced what I had thought about saying.

The boy threw his towel onto the empty couch, and sat at the foot of the bed, between us.

"OK. Now we need to know all there is to know about you. So start with who you are, where you are from, and anything else you think we should know." I reached for Charlies hand, and pulled him toward us so that he was now laying between Jerry and myself. But unlike us, his nakedness was not covered by a sheet. His member was flaccid and quite large. Tiny droplets of water still clung to his pubic hair. Inwardly I wanted to take the towel and wipe away that moisture.

"Well, there is a lot to tell, I guess. Since I am going to be in your gang from here on out, I'll tell you all there is to be told."

My glance at Jerry conveyed a message of "He's being damned presumptuous."

Instantly, Sunshine said. "And I am not being fucking presumptuous."

We both reached over and hugged him to us. "You are a mind reader too?" Jerry questioned.

"You might say that. OK, let me start from the beginning. My family are 'Travelers'. You know what that is?"

We shook our heads.

"It's a modern day version of a gypsy. Our clan consists of about fifty families. We travel all over the U.S. doing odd jobs, like painting, roofing, house or yard maintenance. But mostly we are con artists. We all have trailers or motorhomes. When we have exhausted our welcome in one city we move on to the next."

"My grandparents were gypsies, as were theirs. Our entire clan are Irish. But grandma Conner was, is, a fortune teller. For several years the clan followed a circus all over the country. She explained that most of the fortune telling was ... ", he paused, smiled at me, and said, "Bull Shit. But there is enough truth to make it ring true. I'm the only other person in our family that has the gift. It's not difficult to get a view of someones past. The future is a different animal. The future is like looking at a hazy scene. Almost like a silhouette. The best you can do is guess what's in the future by what has been in the past. Past scenes can come into sharp focus. Johnny, remember when you had me flat on the floor in Little Rock, and our eyes locked for just a moment?"

I again nodded, that I did.

"Well, for the first time in my life, something pretty phenomenal happened. It was like a detailed movie of your life had been transferred into my mind. And, it is still there."

Jerry said, "How much of this is BS, Sunshine?"

"None of it." He reached down and grasped the edge of the comforter. "Want me to tell you about this blanket?"

My face turned red, as my memories surged the many, lovable events that our comforter had experienced. Even so I asked him to continue.

"Well, Jerry had his first orgasm under this blanket, and you were too young yet to cum. Then, Jerry gave you your first blow job." Sunshine, laughed, and continued, "And you Johnny Boy, got your first pussy on top of it."

"OK. OK. We're convinced. So tell me what you know about us." I had asked a question that I wasn't certain I wanted answered.

"That doesn't take a psychic to see. You guys are now, and always have been, and always will be in love. 'Until death do ye part,' is the operable phrase." Sunshine looked both of us in the eye, and then said, "Even my being here is because you both want me .. want me here."

Charlie moved further upon on the bed, put his arms under our heads, and drew us on to his shoulders. We lay there for quite a long time, just acclimating ourselves to this new environment.

"Johnny, there is something else. I haven't been able to put my finger on it, as yet. You are not by yourselves."

"What do you mean?" Jerry asked.

"It has more to do with Johnny. But there is an extra presence here. You are not by yourselves," he repeated.

I knew he was right. "What else can you tell me about it."

"It's a spirit. It has a great deal of work yet to do."

"You mean a ghost?"

"No, I don't think so. The feeling that I get is far more fundamental. It's like, if you considered God as the universe which is comprised of many galaxies and many solar systems. Then this spirit is like one of those solar systems. It is separate, yet it is part of the whole. But I'll tell you something else Johnny, if you had continued your sermon tonight it would have stopped you."

A chill ran up and down my spine. Both Jerry and Sunshine could feel my trembling.

"Don't worry about her. She is not a malevolent spirit. She loves both of you guys. I get a feeling that she has been in your shoes."

"She?" My mind took me back to Angelus Temple. Again I could see the woman in white float down the ramp, her cloak flowing out behind her. A warmth seemed to envelope me. Very personal. Very loving. Very determined.

Without being invited, Sunshine crawled under the sheet, holding us tightly in his arms.

As Jerry reached up and turned off the light I glanced downward. Charlie was tenting. A street light added a glow to the room.

I whispered across Charlies chest, "The Boss is going to be pissed."

"No he wont. Let me handle it." The voice was Sunshines.

My left hand crept across his chest, and encountered Jerry's. Our fingers clasped, then together they moved downward. This was going to be a threesome.

Jerry reached down with his other hand, lifting the covers, and threw them up over our heads so that the bed became a tent.

I looked down at Sunshine. His hips looked gold and firm. I thought he looked well-defined. Soon we had our hands on his dick, it looked bigger than mine, but not bigger than Jerrys. He informed us that it was seven and a half, which confirmed that it WAS longer than my six. It really didn't matter.

He moved down to pecker level and took my cock all the way down his throat, as my lips pressed against Cowboys. My tongue sought my lovers inner most being, as this trilogy continued. "Geeze, you really are a cool guy," I said, as he moved pulling us together. He had removed his mouth from my prick, used his hands to bring our two dicks together, and then stretched his mouth over both of them.

This unique feeling which encompassed our oneness drove Jerry and I together like nothing else had ever done. Yet, I knew that Charlie had never done anything like this before.

It was great and he really did find pleasure in seeing how much we enjoyed it; the fact that he was sucking both of us while my fingers made little circles in his hair brought Jerry and I to a climax in a flash. I was breathing deeply. Simultaneously both Jerry and I let a very large load of cum down his throat. He continued to suck until he was sure we were not going to erupt any more.

Then in all fairness, turnabout became fair play. Cowboy and I pulled Sunshine up on the pillow, then we slipped down to pecker level. His navel was cute - he had a flattish navel that kinda had a swirly pattern in it. I touched it. He said that was his most sensitive spot; instant hard-on. He didn't have a lot of hair on his body, except some around his navel and his groin, but he did have a couple of long thin hairs on the swirly part of his navel. "I just leave them there," he told me. "Once in a while I brush my hand over them on purpose and let them tickle my palm.." He chuckled. He was certainly cute. We took turns, alternating between stomach, cock, balls, and belly button. Suddenly it was all over; Jerry got the goodies.

"Geezus, that has got to be the first fuckin' time I have been sucked like that!" he exclaimed. He revealed that this was the first blow job he had had since he was sixteen. That first experience had been administered by an older traveler from another family that had joined their caravan for only a short while.

Afterward we cuddled and slept, our heads resting on Charlie's bare chest.

It was close to four A.M, when the man in the middle stirred, and started to unwrap himself from Jerry and I. "Where are you going?"

"I think it would be best if I was discovered on the coach, and not in bed with you two."

Sleepily I agreed, and took his place beside Cowboy. Then drifted back asleep.

The clock on the wall said 8:00 when I heard someone enter the trailer.

"Hey Sunshine. I wondered where you crashed." It was Steven. "I don't want to disturb you but I've got a problem with the Ampex Recorder that I must fix."

"What kind of a problem." Charlie's question surprised me.

"I get a hum when I switch the output of the board from the Brush to the Ampex."

The two boys carried on a technical conversation about AC and ground loops. As they exchanged points of view on the likely hood of the problem, it became evident that Sunshine knew as much about electronics as did Steven, if not more so.

When Jerry and I finally dressed and exited the bedroom, we saw that they had taken the Ampex out of it's case. Charlie was holding a flashlight, pointing at some wiring. "Yeah, look right there. It looks like the solder is shorting that shield to ground."

Jackie and Robbie were walking toward the trailer as we were heading for the Bus to get Stack and Ho out of the sack.

I looked at Jackie, "You guys get a good nights sleep?"

They nodded that they had.

"Got a surprise for you. Go on into the trailer. Looks like we've got ourselves a new engineer."

Stack was curled up around Ho when we entered the bus. "Come on guys. Time to rise and shine."

Both boys rolled over on their backs sporting enormous erections. Nevertheless they jumped out of bed and grabbed Jerry and I, throwing us onto their bed. Ho ended up on top of me. Jerry had Stack pinned to the mattress. Ho's cock had broken free of his boxers, and was threatening to spit in my face. Stack made a lunge upward, unseating Jerry, pushing Ho to the side.

Ho immediately responded, sitting on Stacks chest. His cock was still at the ready, but now it was dripping in anticipation. We could see that privacy was in order, so Jerry and I asked the boys to join us in the tent as soon as they had accomplished their morning absolutions.

We could hear someone playing the piano as we closed the door of the bus.

Jackie was playing, but Robbie was showing him some unusual phrasing which sounded more middle east than American.

"Did you see Steven and Sunshine?" I asked.

"Steve wants to train him on the audio board so he can go back to Little Rock." Robbie expressed his observation.

"Who want's to go back to Little Rock?"

"Steven. It seems Harry has been splitting his time between the Radio Ministry and KLRA, and Steve is needed back there." Jackie continued kind of laughing, "As Ray would have put it, 'Its the hand of God."

"You mean, just like that, your going to take Sunshine on board?" I could see Jerry's face express wonderment at Jackie's dispensation. "For the moment, just temporarily. If he works out, then he'll be a real asset."

"Well, that makes seven of us. How are we going to work out the sleeping arrangements." I asked.

"While we are here in Memphis, Robbie and I will sleep at my Grandmothers. Steven and Sunshine can use the trailer. You two, Ho, and Stack can sleep in the Bus. You can put up a partition, and set up a separate bedroom. Also, I think there is a collapsible shower buried somewhere in there. If things workout with Charlie, then he'll leave his car at the Compound in Little Rock and drive the new bus."

"Boy, he sure got your confidence in a hurry." Jerry was half serious, and half joking.

We spent most of the day putting together the service for that evening. The Boss had decided that a strictly musical approach would be best. The idea was to choose a list of music whose rhythm matched the pacing we wanted. It would be chosen with the One-Two-Three pattern in mind. If I could find bible passages that would hammer the 'Threes' home with more power, then that's what we would use. But, it was to be a totally rehearsed product, with only my application in tune to the audience being a variable.

The pendulum had been set to swinging. An occasional push kept it going to the max. When the recording equipment was turned off, we would bring the resonance to rest.

An incident during the earlier part of the service almost derailed me. I heard a loud, deep throated, motor approach, and then enter our lot. The light from the tent momentarily provided enough illumination to see a big black motorcycle. Riding the bike was a large, somewhat older man, wearing dark glasses, and leather jacket. His head was quite bald. There could be no mistaking, it was the guy who had almost tail-ended us en route from Little Rock.

The bike moved further along the side, and into the shadows. The headlight momentarily swept the stage before it was extinguished.

The evening had worked quite well. I had staid on stage, presiding over the congregation until everyone started to leave.

Curiously, I walked towards the spot where the bike had disappeared. I could make out the form of the bike as a shadow while my eyes were adjusting to the dimmer light.

Reclining on his bike was a bald man in his thirties. He laid back, almost flat on his back. A six pack of Budweiser was nestled between his knees. He had an open one in his hand. He half raised himself to guzzle it down in one single gulp. "Brother Johnny, you folks put on quite a show."

I didn't know what to say but managed, "Thanks ... I never know where it's going to take us." That was a stupid thing to say, so silence intervened.

"Wanta Bud?" He reached towards the six pack, but I shook my head no.

"I sure liked what I heard tonight. Is the whole week going to be along those same lines?"

Before I could reply, I again heard my name called. "Got a second. I need to talk to you." Somehow the voice was vaguely familiar.

I excused myself and moved towards the voice. A man was leaning against the hood of our station wagon. He was wearing tight Levis jeans, which appeared dirty and well worn.

"Thought you might like some of this." The man stroked a long bulge tenting his leg.

I looked more closely. It was Joe. He had grown much older in the past several years. He continued to stroke his instrument. "If I remember right, you really enjoyed yourself swinging on this the last time we went for a ride."

He moved his hands towards his fly as though he was going to extract his instrument. "Your boy friend sure didn't treat me right the last time I was here, so this time it's going to cost you a little more than a taxi ride. But, from what I can see, you can afford it. Come on over here and get a nice whiff of Junior. He can hardly wait to feel your young lips around his head."

I had been taken off guard by finding Joe here. But once I recovered my composure, I got really pissed off. "You are really a sleeze ball you know Joe?"

"Ah, She even remembers my name. Wonder what the newspaper would say if then learned that this church preaching group is nothing but a pack of fags."

"What the hell is going on here?" Cowboy moved next to me.

"God another Fag Boy. What you want girly?"

Cowboy lunged toward Joe, striking him hard on the jaw, knocking him off of the station wagon and flat onto the ground.

Joe was startled, but rapidly recovered. As he started to raise, Stack, Ho, and Jew Boy moved along side.

The blackmailer stood up. "Well you haven't heard the last of this. I came here with the idea of settling this ... friendly like. Just remember, it was you who decided to make it hard ... "

Joe moved toward the street. As he reached the road, the motorcycle drove up alongside of him, and paused. Then Joe swung himself up on the bike, and they turned right, heading away from Memphis.

I wasn't frightened by what had happened. The first time I had been by myself, but now I had people around me who truly loved me: Danny, Peter, Charlie, Jackie, and my beloved Cowboy.

The unpleasantness made me restless. Sleep was difficult. We still hadn't made changes in the sleeping arrangements, but Steve again chose to sleep in the tent, leaving the trailer to Charlie, Jerry, and myself.

I tossed and turned. Charlie told me not to worry about it, everything would work out just fine. Joe having jumped on the back of the motorcycle had me wondering if I was now facing two blackmailers. But the older guy hadn't seemed to be that kind of guy. Yet, they had rode off together.

The sun came up. Jackie and Robbie returned. The day started off slowly. The Boss had been pleased with the performance, and wanted to do more of the same. Creating those musical events required a great deal of creative effort from everyone.

Steve and Sunshine were in the trailer, still working on the Ampex Recorder. The rest of us were working at the piano.

The motorcycle turned into our lot. The bald guy had pulled the bike into some shade. He was alone.

Charlie came out of the trailer, and started talking with him. The man handed Sunshine a Bud. Their conversation seemed pleasant. They talked for almost a half hour. Then Charlie came into the tent.

Jackie looked up. "Problem?"

"No. Just the opposite. Come on out I want you to meet 'The Count'. He's quite a character."

On the side I asked about Joe and last night. Charlie put on quite a smile. "Boy do I have a tale to tell ya."

Our group circled the Bike. The Boss had been correct, it was an Indian. Introductions were made all around. There were only 4 beers left in the six pack so he didn't offer any.

"You know, you guy's need some security around here. You don't want ass holes like that guy last night messing around."

Jackie said, "That's for sure."

The Count said as he kicked the Indians engine to life, "Well that one won't bother you again. Guaranteed! Well, I just wanted to say howdy, and let you know you can forget that jerk. Shamrock is having a sale on Bud, so I gotta get down there before its all gone." Before we could say anything else, the bike was already turning onto the street.

"Come on back to the tent. I've got quite a tale to tell you." Sunshine led the way.

"You guy's aren't going to believe what The Count did for us. He only told me part of the story, but I saw the rest."

"When he left here last night, he stopped alongside of Joe and asked if he'd like a ride. Joe was thankful for the lift cause he thought you guys might come after him."

"Well, The Count headed out into the country. Joe is hanging on to the guys waist, and even nudging the guy's cock. Finally they get way out in the country, miles away from everything and everybody. The biker is making like he'd like Joe to go further with the sex stuff. Joe gets naked. The Count ties him, across his bike, his naked white buns shinning in the moonlight. Then he takes a knife and CARVES a message into the cheeks of his ass. FOR on the left cheek, and RENT on the right. Under that he makes a left and a right arrow pointing to Joes ass hole. Below the arrows he added Cheap. Well, by now Joe is yelling and screaming. Blood is oozing out of the cuts. The Count takes a bottle of Tequila and bathes his cheeks. Well the alcohol get's him screaming again."

"The Tequila stops the bleeding, so now he uses an indelible laundry marker to trace over the letters. That starts the screaming again. So he reaches down in his saddle bag, pulls out a tube of heavy axle grease and puts a giant gob of it on Joes hole. Next, he takes his fingers and starts finger fucking him. Joe starts getting a rod. So the Count adds more fingers; finally he's got his whole hand up Joe's butt, almost to the wrist. Joe is grunting and groaning, and he's got a rod unbelievably big and hard. Joe drops his load. The Count slowly drops his own pants, shoves his humungus tool up Joes butt and fucks him. This went on for about 20 minutes before The Count finally unloaded. But he's not done yet. He keeps his dick up Joes ass until it begins to soften ... then he takes a giant piss up his butt. When he pulls out a stream of piss, mixed with cum starts flowing out of Joes Butt, and all over the back of the Indian. This pisses The Count off. He takes all of Joes clothes, except for his jeans, puts them in a pile, then pours gasoline over them and burns them. Then he takes the jeans, puts them over the fire, and burns out the seat. He unties Joe, and tell's him to put on the jeans. So now Joe's tattooed butt cheeks are hanging out for all to see."

"The Count still isn't done with him. He starts chasing him through the field on his bike. Finally, Joe falls flat on his face, and The Count yells at him that if he ever sees him again he's going to tattoo 'I'm a Fag' on his forehead."

We all laughed as we first envisioned Joe hog tied on the back of the Indian, and later running down the highway with his butt advertising "For Rent ... Cheap".

The pace of the day didn't speed up much. We continued the task of creating new material for the service. The strictly music approach was affective, but it didn't leave me with much room to develop the ability to work with an audience in a less structured way.

We had just opened the service with Swing Low, Sweet Chariot when I heard the sound of the Count's cycle swing into our lot. Again, it disappeared into the shadows.

As happened the night before, the rhythm of the music increased it's pace. The audience began to respond, contributing an ever intensifying energy level. The more I was exposed to the building force, the more sensitive I was becoming to it. Without knowing where it was coming from, I began to develop an ability to harness the continued pooling of power. Yet, the music restrained me. I was not free to unleash it.

At the end of the evening I felt frustrated and unfulfilled.

The Boss and Robbie left for Jackie's grandmothers. Ho and Stack retired to the Bus. Steven dragged his sleeping bag on to the stage in the tent. Charlie, Jerry, and I headed for the trailer.

All was quite.

As we always did, Jerry and I stripped naked, and climbed into our bed.

"I'm going for a walk." Charlie announced, as he turned and left us alone.

We had had a full day. I took my regular place, curled up around Jerry. Soon we were asleep.

The sun had found a leak in the curtain, and struck me square in the eye. Annoying as it was, the feeling of being one with my lover made me linger in the luxury of being where I was, and with whom I was.

The Boss had suggested an early breakfast at IHOP. I unwrapped myself from Jerry, and got out of bed.

"You up already." He drowsily asked. But not really, as he was already back asleep before I could reply.

I dressed, and moved to the front of the trailer. Charlie wasn't on the couch.

Curiously, I sought him. He wasn't in his car.

Steven was still asleep in the tent. Charlie wasn't there.

That left only the bus. I approached it listening for signs of activity. There were none, so I quietly entered. Charlie was sandwiched between Peter and Danny. Both boys had their heads on his shoulders. A replica of the scene that Jerry and I had experienced the night before.

Charlie was not asleep, and gave me a bright, happy smile. His only explanation, "They needed me last night. Their union needed tightening."

It was an odd statement, but it did say everything that needed to be said.

"Jackie should be here shortly to take us to breakfast."

Sunshine said that he knew, then asked "Is Cowboy up yet?"

I shook my head no.

"You roust him, while I get these two ready." His arms squeezed the boys closer to his chest. "Then I'll get Steven."

I turned, and walked back to the trailer. I could hear the shower running as I opened the door.

I stuck my head through the shower curtain, "Glad you are up. Jackie should be here shortly."

A hand grabbed my shoulder and tugged me into the shower, soaking my shirt and pants. Since I was already wet I stayed there and put my arms around Jerry, letting the warm water flow down both of our faces. Our tongues immediately began fencing. But the water eventually got in the way, and I left him to finish his bathing.

I stripped off my wet clothes, and looked in the closet for something else to wear. Everything was dirty except for the Panama Suit that Jackie had bought me when we had visited Dr. Lickman in La Jolla. Next to the suit was one of Jerry's bright red long sleeved silk shirts.

Jerry got out of the shower and began to dry himself, while I tried on his shirt and my suit. "God you look gorgeous!" was his reaction.

He put on his Levis and a bright blue long sleeved silk shirt.

We heard the station wagon drive alongside as we exited the trailer.

The rest of the group joined us. We climbed into the back seats of the wagon.

The drive to the IHOP took only 5 minutes. Surprisingly, there was no delay in being seated.

"Johnny, you look great in that suit. You ought to wear it during our services." The Boss had spoken, and the rest nodded "Yes. It was an improvement."

The primary reason for this breakfast meeting, was to discuss the image we were leaving with our audiences. First, was a concern about the Count. Having a beer guzzling biker would leave a bad impression. Sunshine and Ho said they would take care of the matter. Second, was a concern about how we appeared on stage. Jackie looked me over again, "We need to get you several suits like that one. Maybe white. Also, I like the red shirt."

I hadn't cut my hair since we had left California, and it was almost as shaggy as Charlie's. But it was Charlie that said, "I think Johnny should let his hair grow till it reaches his shoulders. The dark hair would look great laying against the white suit."

"Well that takes care of Johnny, but what about the rest of us? He should be the center of attraction, but wee need to look sharper than we have." Again, the Boss had spoken.

This time it was Cowboy who suggested, "Why don't we all wear Levi's and Blue shirts, like I have on?"

Jackie looked both Jerry and I over very carefully. "You guys stand up, side by side and let's see."

We stood, and were observed. "OK. Next stop is J C Penny's."

I enjoyed my order of Strawberry Waffles, but spilled some of the syrup on my suit in a spot where both Jerry and Sunshine offered to wipe it away.

Jackie directed an unexpected question at Charlie. "What brought you to our services in Little Rock?"

"My family sent me. They wanted me to find a way to horn in on your racket."

"And did you?"

Sunshine, gave us an impish grin. "Yep!"

It was close to noon when we returned to the trailer. We had again begun talking about the Count and his image.

As we got out of the station wagon we heard the loud, and unmistakable sound of a wet fart. It came from behind the trailer. As a group we walked toward where the sound had come. There was the Count's Indian. We all started to laugh. A bald head appeared behind the bike as the man sat up. There was a twig stuck between his right ear and head. His hand brought a sweating bottle of cold beer to his lips. In a single swig the entire contents disappeared. Then with a loud burp, he said, "Glad you guys are back."

Danny asked, "How long have you been here."

"Since last night."

"You should have gone to breakfast with us," was Ho's contribution.

"Naw. I heard you leave, but somebody's got to look after things."

With that statement, he climbed on to his bike. Kicked the starter, and was out of there. "See ya later."

During the rest of the week we continued to work on the material for our services. Charlie took charge of my hair, while Jerry made certain that I always had a clean, white suit, and red silk shirt.

The odd thing, was that I felt more comfortable in the white suit. It seemed to bring a feeling of authority. Not authority in the normal sense of the word; more ability to influence might be closer.

As the week wore on, you could feel more and more power build between the congregation and myself.

Sunshine made quite an astute observation. As the week wore on, the audience contained more and more people who had already contributed to the generated power. As the week drew to a close over 90 percent of the audience were people already being affected by "the Thing."

Saturday night was to be our last night in Memphis.

Saturday morning we were awakened by the deeply muffled sound of a large vehicle pulling into our lot. I peeked out the back window of the trailer and saw the new audio bus pulling up behind us.

I looked for Charlie. Again, he wasn't on the couch, so I headed for Danny and Peter's bed. He wasn't there either. I found him sleeping close to Steven. "Hey! Get your butts out of the sack. Your new toy just arrived."

As I came out into the lot I was surprised to see both mama and Ray step out of the vehicle. Mama rushed over to me throwing her arms around me as though it had been months instead of days since I had last seen her.

Ray seemed neither surprised nor concerned about Charlie being with us. I doubted if he would be as nonplused when and if he met the Count.

Steven and Sunshine said a quick hello, and immediately made for the new audio bus. It looked a lot like a Greyhound; lots of chrome, and new paint. The Capitol Record emblem was painted on both sides. Shortly the Capitol engineer came outside, and headed for the trailer. Ray, Steven, and mama were to return to Little Rock the first thing Sunday morning; they would be taking Charlie's car and the trailer with them.

The Song-Fest that night was not one of our best. Our attention had been subdivided: The new audio bus; mama and Ray being present; the Count arriving, then quietly disappearing; sleeping arrangements needed to be changed to accommodate our visitors.

On the other hand the regimentation imposed by the music format probably saved us from total disaster.

Early Sunday morning we all had breakfast at IHOP. Ray stood offering a prayer of thanks for our meal and fellowship. Afterward we helped them attach the trailer to Charlie's car, and bid them farewell.

It took us until almost two in the afternoon to stow the tent, and make ready to get underway. Our caravan consisted of three vehicles: The Revival Ministry Bus, the new Capitol Bus, and the station wagon. Peter and Ho were in the lead trucking the tent. Next was Charlie, Jerry and myself in the new vehicle. Jackie and Robbie were following in the station wagon.

We were heading south on highway 51. The land was flat, stretching in all directions to the horizon.

I could hear a roar of engines far in the distance. Far behind us birds were soaring upward into the sky, escaping what ever was making the sound. A speck grew bigger, then suddenly was behind us. In an additional surge of power six motorcycles passed us going at least a hundred miles an hour.

The bikers were in an arrow head formation. In the lead was the Count. His arm was raised in recognition as they shot past us. Then just as quickly they disappeared below the horizon in front of us.

"My lord. That was the Count. Where did the others come from?" My question was rhetorical.

"You didn't know?" Sunshine asked. "That's his gang. They ride together. He never goes anywhere without them."

"Ha! Jackie has been worried about our image. Can you imagine how people would stay away from our meetings if they showed up?"

"Well, they wanted to, but the Count told them no; he didn't figure we could handle it."