Tass bombed through the crowd. We found out later he pushed a couple people aside hard enough they fell into other people, kind of like a chain reaction of dominos.
"For shame!" he roared, his voice
rising to a shriek while adding six syllables to "shame." "For
shame! Who are the misguided parents of this innocent child who is about to be
lowered into the waters of false repentance, to be condemned to spiritual
death? How dare you abuse your child so?"
He was about to splash into the water, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he blamed Pastor Rocky because he didn't walk on the water. The deacons leaped forward like this was a move they had practiced for years, with my Pop and Chief Tanner leading the way. They became a wall dividing Pastor Rocky and Tami from Tass. Then they surrounded him. Those were brave men, because there was just something sweaty, slimy-looking, and plague-carrying about the man in his designer suit that made Herb Tarlek of WKRP look like a fashion plate. It had to be a designer suit because I couldn't imagine any clothing manufacturer risking its reputation on producing more than one of those things, in neon orange and brown plaid, glossy like he was covered in oil. Who would wear a three-piece suit like that in the 90-plus-degree August weather?
Somehow, those twelve men hustled Tass off the beach, past the snack shack, and across the parking lot, short-circuiting his shrieks into stammers. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, but I bet the Red Sea didn't snicker and whisper as it parted before Moses. I was willing to believe God temporarily granted all of them superhero powers, like telekinesis, or maybe just a force field that protected them from physical contact. Or maybe it was the badge Chief Tanner flashed in the wacko's face, close enough it could have gone down his throat if he had kept his mouth open long enough.
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