Page 39 of Come Fly With Me

No kidding.

“Bark,” the angel shouted, making Josh almost choke to death. “I am a herald angel. I usually sing, but we didn’t have a piano player who could come to rehearsal, so I will speak and tell you that I have told three important kings that they need to come to visit the baby Jesus, who is not yet born, but we know his name because God already told it to his mother, and she told the rest of us, and she also told us that her baby is going to be king and save us all from the evil Herr-Herro-Herdod once it’s grown up and everything, not right now because he’s a baby, and babies can’t do anything except cry and sleep and poop their nappies.” The angel sucked in a deep breath. “I have told the kings to follow the message star.”

The doors at front of the church slammed open, and three kids dressed like sparkling Christmas decorations walked in.

“I have brought Frank’s stink scents,” one called as he held up his gift-wrapped present.

“I have brought a mirror,” the second one said. And sure enough, he held a mirror.

“And I have gold,” the third held up a basket full of what looked like gold foil-wrapped chocolate coins. “Because I’m the richest out of the three of us.”

They strode down the aisle, dodging the donkey who was still dancing to a tune only he could hear.

“I’m a generous king,” the one with the chocolate shouted as he reached into his basket, grabbed a handful of coins, and threw them into the pews.

And that’s when all hell broke loose—if you could say that in a church.

Kids lunged for the coins. Candles were thrust in the air to get them out of the way. Adults jumped to their feet. The sheep got scared and started to baa and stamp. A woman in the front row screeched, “Don’t eat that! That’s not chocolate, that’s sheep poo!”

All heads turned to where a mother was scooping up her toddler, who’d sneaked into the sheep pen for a snack.

“Save some of the chocolate for Jesus,” the star shouted. “And for me.”

“And Mary went into labor,” Lorraine said over the speaker, oblivious to the chaos happening in the church, because she was tucked away in the vestry.

Sure enough, wails of agony went up from the front of the church. More chocolate was thrown, and the shepherd leading the sheep let go of it to grab the coins. The sheep ran for his friends at the front of the church, knocking into the donkey. The donkey toppled into one of the rows. Candles went flying.

And the hay went up in flames.

“Fire!” shouted the star. “Fire!”

“Choccy!” shouted the toddler with his fist full of sheep poop.

People scrambled out of their pews and ran for the doors as David switched on his mic.

“Everybody, stay calm,” he ordered over the PA system.

“What’s happening?” Lorraine said over the same speakers.

The people Caroline had primed grabbed their fire extinguishers and pointed them at the fire, which was put out quickly, much to David’s relief. He watched the congregation stream out of the church. So much for his well-prepared sermon. He was about to follow everyone when the lights came back on, and a voice called out, “Somebody needs to get me down from here.”

As David looked up at the star, who was kicking his legs and swinging in the rafters, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder.

“Welcome to Invertary,” Josh McInnes said with a grin.

Betty Tries Facebook

This story takes place just before Caught, Invertary book 7, and immediately after Betty tried Twitter.

“Order, order!” Dougal Jamieson, unofficial mayor of Invertary, banged his gavel on the lectern at the front of the church hall.

It was the quarterly ordinary general meeting of the town and council, where mundane business was discussed, townsfolk were updated on council projects, and the floor was open for anyone to air their grievances.

As usual, it was the last part of the agenda that was causing problems.

“Order, I say!” Dougal boomed. “Sit down and be quiet. You all know the rules. Everybody has a right to talk at these meetings.” He shook his head in disgust. “Even Betty.”

With legs in thick stockings and heavy black shoes and her round, wrinkled head encased in a hairnet, the tartan cube grinned at the roomful of Invertary residents. At least she had her teeth in.