basically a cattle pen for the large number of Americans who weren’t content to watch Satan’s trial on TV. These fine citizens would not rest until they had confronted Satan directly with their misspelled signs and their American flags. They came by motorcycle, by van, by truck and by car. The ones whose licenses had been suspended came by charter bus, by train, by hitchhiking and by, in one case, carjacking a Prius. Surely even Satan himself would quail in the face of their opprobrium. Surely he would quake before their disapproval. They had rented every portable sound system in Carson City. They had brought their own whistles and bullhorns, their Mr. Microphones and their karaoke machines. Jammed in, gut to butt, until they overflowed Freedom of Expression Plaza they clogged the streets and waved their scrawled signs.
“Catholic Church Was Right! We Knew It All Along!”
“Satin is Gods Barf”
“Thank you Fox News for Keeping Us Informed!”
Several small children had signs duct taped to their heads reading, “ No illegal Alein Satan/Think Twice America!”
As the sun came up over the Bristlecone Pines and the Single-Leaf Pinyons, the crowd sang a tuneless version of “We Shall Overcome,” which switched to a droning rendition of “Amazing Grace” as the minivan carrying Satan appeared far down the shimmering street. Devoted members of the Colorado Christian Men of Christ had staked out the airport and through a keen combination of prayer and looking for a minivan driver holding a sign that said “Satan” they had spotted the Evil One when he came out of The ReNU AirSpa Experience and they’d phone ahead with the details. They’d also taken photos of the minivan and its license plate and emailed them to their pastor who was on the ground outside the courthouse and one of their members had trailed the minivan and kept them all up-to-date via his Twitter feed. Turning a crowd into a mob is hard work and it requires the latest technology.
Suddenly, as if a starter pistol had been fired, the huge crush of humanity surged out of Freedom of Expression Plaza and poured up the street like a river flowing upstream. The minivan slowed as the wall of humanity ran at it and, before anyone could even think of what to do, it was surrounded. One side of the van was swarmed by protestors while camera crews from across the street pressed up against the other. “Amazing Grace” turned into whistle blasts and angry shouts as the mob sent the few sheriff’s deputies who were unwise enough to try to stop them, flying.
“You know what,” Sheriff Tommy Furlough said, looking down from the roof of the courthouse where he’d set up his command post. “Those fellas don’t get paid enough to get crushed protecting Satan. Tell ‘em to fall back and hang loose. Their only job right now is to keep these yahoos away from the courthouse doors.”
Orders went out on the walkie-talkies and deputies all over the street crawled out of the crushing crowd to safety and re-formed by the double glass doors of the courthouse. Out on the street, the minivan came to a complete stop. The crowd started to rock it on its shock absorbers. Inside, Nero and Satan and their driver were trapped.
“Sir,” Nero said. “This is really getting out of hand.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Satan snapped.
“I knew I shouldn’t have taken this job,” the driver moaned.
Protestors pressed their screaming faces to the tinted windows, spat on the glass, shouted “Satan is New World Order UN Pawn!” and punched the windows of the minivan. In the front seat, the driver, who wasn’t a professional driver anyways but was actually studying right now for his accountancy license and was just driving this van to pay off his student loans, covered his face and began to cry.
“Oh my god,” he sobbed. “They hate me. They hate me!”
The crowd kept rocking the van and its left two tires came up off the asphalt completely. It hovered in mid-air for one vertiginous instant and then slammed back down. A cheer erupted from the crowd.
“I think they’re going to do that again,” Nero said.
“Please,” the driver sobbed. “I have a prepaid test next week. I don’t want to die.”
“Would both of you just calm down?” Satan said.
The minivan lifted off again. This time they could feel gravity snatching at it as it reached the peak of its arc, but it escaped and then slammed back down again, cracking Nero’s