Master of Plagues - D. B. Reynolds (superbooks4u TXT) 📗

school, you shall address him as Commodore Mowab. You are to obey the commodore as he has been sanctioned to obey me. When I call upon you, I too, shall address you Commodore Mowab.”
“Yes, master.”
“Commodore Mowab and the rest of the school, welcome to the sensationalistic family of Stuart Irwin Duffelmeyer.”
Commodore Mowab, along with the hundreds of other sharks, surrounded Stuart to show their respect. They bowed once again to express supreme loyalty. The floor to the Mighty Pacific Ocean rumbled like a disturbed volcano. Bright cosmic lights from the Heavens penetrated the surface waves and on down through many miles of ocean water. The waters divided and Stuart was blasted back to the top. Safely, he was placed on the sandy beaches of Venice. Not one living soul over at the Santa Monica Pier, nor the residents who lived closeby, noticed anything out of the ordinary. The moon and stars returned to their respective places in the nighttime skies. The checks and balances of nature returned to normal.


CHAPTER—24

FROM DISCRIMINATING TO TERMINATING

Many partygoers in Hollywood quickly expressed their delight after a Federal Court judge declared Proposition Ten to be unconstitutional. The one-time proposition banned same sex marriages in the state of California. Native Californians flooded internet websites with their ecstatic responses. Television news stations had no complaints since their ratings shot through the sky.
Club Sidelines on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood had filled to capacity in celebration of overturning the decision. Notable celebrities and just everyday people showed up in record numbers. Strobe lights and giant glittering disco balls projected rainbow lights down on the enormous dancefloor. Gay men and women from all walks of life celebrated like there was no tomorrow.
The deejay played rock, pop, r&b, rap, and alternative music to keep people dancing out of control. This particular Saturday night ignited them with a fever that even John Travolta wouldn’t understand. The outdoor patio area had crowds of lesbians and gay men tapping glasses. Cigarette and marijuana smoke clouded the air where they embraced one another with joy.
The people out on the patio were called inside the club for a very important announcement. The music dropped to a lower level. Gay rights activist Felicia Holland took center stage inside Club Sidelines. Bright lights from the deejay’s booth shined directly in her face. Felicia kept her short graying hair cropped close to her head while her figure stayed readily slim. Her new wife beamed with pride as she watched her significant other stare out at the multitude of gay patrons.
“Are the mormons pissed now?” Felicia asked her crowd of loyal gay followers.
The huge gay crowd responded with, “Yeahhhhhhhhhhh!”
“Isn’t this a huge victory for the civil rights of us gays?” Felicia prompted, throwing both arms high in the air.
“Yeahhhhhhhhh!” the crowd fired back.
“Should there be a law against true love?”
“Noooooooooo!”
“Should there ever be a ban on gay marriages?”
“Noooooooooo!”
“Are we happy that Proposition Ten has been overturned?”
“Yes we are!”
“What did you say?”
“Yes we are!”
“Don’t we deserve equality like everybody else?”
“Sure we do!”
“What’d you say?”
“Sure we do!”
“Listen to me, everybody,” Felicia conceded, fired up to the max. “There is no practical argument against the harmless institution of gay marriage. No one should be treated differently just because they’re a homosexual. Overturning the decision is so much bigger than marriage itself. It takes wisdom and compassion in knowing that we can be heard, and that action can make a difference. Now, let me hear you say, ‘Hooray’!”
“Hooooooooray!” the crowd reciprocated, banging glasses from all around Club Sidelines.
“Let me hear you say it again.”
“Hooooooooray!”
Felicia stepped down to exit from the spotlight. The deejay pumped up the music and the gay crowd came together once again on the dancefloor.
Where there was a positive, there was always a negative. Where there was a celebration crowd, there was always a wrecking crew. Right outside Club Sidelines was a group of angry protestors who believed how same-sex marriages were an abomination. Held angrily in their grip were picket signs which read: GOD HATES GAYS and PRIESTS ARE PERVERTS.
Their leader, the Reverend Wesley David Warren, picketed around Club Sidelines with his loyal followers shouting anti-gay rhetoric. Reverend Warren and his people were known to picket major events like gay pride gatherings. Now, they picketed a major gathering at one of the biggest gay nightclubs in Los Angeles. He believed that natural disasters and terrorist attacks were God’s punishment for a society that tolerated homosexuality.
Having traveled all the way from Knoxville, Tennessee, he and over fifty of his dedicated followers were outraged when they heard about the reverse decision of Proposition Ten. Operating a church built around the core of anti-homosexuality theology, Reverend Warren felt that it was his sacred duty to warn everybody that America was doomed. Bouncers employed by Club Sidelines warned him and his followers to stay within a certain feet of the building.
“Sir, could you step away from the club,” requested one of the bigger bouncers. He stood at the front entrance with his towering six-foot-six frame.
“Young man, we’re protected by our First Amendment Rights,” Reverend Warren declared, waving the sign right in the face of the big bouncer.
“I understand that, but you’re blocking part of the entrance to the club.”
“Don’t you understand that homosexuality is wrong?”
“Right or wrong, I’m paid to maintain order here at Club Sidelines.”
“The wrath of God is coming down on this country, starting with the state of California.”
“Sir, people are free to express their sexuality. If they want to celebrate the overturn of Proposition Ten, then they should be free to do so.”
“They should also be free to burn in hell for all of eternity.”
Reverend Warren backed away from the bouncer waving his protest sign. He and his followers walked in a perfect cadence. They chanted with fury in their voice.
“God hates gays!” shouted one-half of the fifty or so protestors.
“Priests are perverts!” yelled the other half of the anti-gay advocates.
Having been born and raised in Greenville, Mississippi, Reverend Warren shed some of the racially-offensive doctrine taught to him. Homosexuality was just plain wrong in his mind. Men weren’t supposed to be married to men. Women weren’t supposed to be married to women.
The balding white-haired and baggy-eyed Southern Baptist preacher pressed on with his anti-gay propaganda and violence-inspiring hate rhetoric.
He gathered his followers in one big huddle and told them, “Those homo rejects in that nightclub are spitting right in the face of God. They’re happy that the state of California has passed Proposition Ten. So damn what! It sickens me that those gays don’t care about bringing down the wrath of God on us as he did on Sodom and Gomorrah. Homosexuality goes against the laws of nature, against the divine laws of God. Jews, who’ve got much power, have allowed this to be tolerated. Jews are the ones who killed our Lord Jesus, and their own prophets, and they please not God. The Jews have also doomed the U.S.A., wandering this Earth despised and smitten with moral and spiritual blindness by a divine judicial stroke.”
The followers of Reverend Warren were mesmerized by his brief speech. He expressed much anti-semitism against God’s chosen people. Behind the title of reverend, he also earned the title of lawyer and civil rights advocate. Now, as a figure who claimed the national spotlight, he told stories of how he systematically brought down Jim Crow laws and survived brutal threats against his life. One incident involved the shooting out of his car windows by Klansmen and being called a “nigger lover”.
“United you’ll fall!” Reverend Warren asserted, shaking his picket sign at gays entering Club Sidelines.
The bouncers kept a close eye on him and his members. Gays coming and leaving the club were disgruntled to see the Warren followers protest against them.
“In hell shall you burn for an eternity!” the reverend announced to those patronizing the club.
Two of the bouncers, the size of well-sculptured football stars, didn’t take too kindly the remarks being made by Reverend Warren.
There was a fiery exchange of eye contact being relayed between them. In the past, he’d been arrested for battery, assault, disorderly conduct, trespassing, threats, and contempt of court. But none of those prior arrests mattered to him. As the leader of a small Baptist church in Knoxville, Tennessee, he wanted to wipe out homosexuality from America and abroad. He avoided prison time and kept right on with his protests.
Since none of the gay patrons inside Club Sidelines listened to him, he decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. His homosexual-hating blood bubbled to the surface. He and his fifty plus church members traveled across the country in two big white buses. Inside the buses were weapons such as pistols and mase and stun guns. Towards the back were several full cans of gasoline.
Four members of his group were ordered to pull pistols on the bouncers at the front entrance. Not wanting to call their bluff, the bouncers moved aside and went down the middle of the block on Santa Monica Boulevard. Reverend Warren climbed inside the first bus and drove it right on the sidewalk to block the front doors. One of his most faithful followers drove the other bus to the back entrance and parked it to block those doors. The front and back entrances were now barricaded. Club Sidelines patrons who were inside had no way of leaving.
Reverend Warren and his helpers grabbed the gasoline cans and books of matches from the bus. The self-professed Baptist preacher had gone totally insane. Driving around the corner in a rented Mercedes-Benz 450SL was Stuart. The second he drove onto Santa Monica Boulevard, he’d seen Reverend Warren and the others pouring gasoline around all four sides of Club Sidelines. Not a second was wasted. He jerked the magical talisman from under his designer silk shirt and exclusively meditated to the powers of The One Most High. Yet another request was sent out to the Universe.