The snake dance picked up more volunteers and the few left seated were clapping the cadence and bouncing up and down.  Pairs of ushers were hurrying to pick up the fallen, some of whom were quiet but others, mostly women, were writhing and foaming at the mouth.  These were dumped hastily in front of the altar and left to flop like freshly caught fish.  Boone pointed his cigar at a gaunt redhead, a woman apparently about forty whose dress was badly torn by her exertions. "See that woman?  It has been at least a year since she has gone all through a service without being possessed by the Spirit.  Sometimes Archangel Foster uses her mouth to talk to us... and when that happens it takes four husky acolytes to hold her down.  She could go to heaven any time, she's ready.  But she's needed here.  Anybody need a refill?  Bar service is likely to be a little slow once the cameras are switched on and things get lively."