The Worshippers

I used to get panic attacks. One day it happened on the light rail going to Jersey City. A man sat next to me and whispered that he used to suffer from the same experience. He told me exactly what to do. Breath deep. But you must follow my instructions, he said.
The next night, right around dusk, I drove to where he told me, got out and brought a folding chair. To my surprise, there were at least 50 people already sitting around this mass rising several hundred feet into the sky, creating an impressive silhouette against a full moon.
As the evening wore on, more people arrived, hundreds, presumably all victims of panic attacks. We just sat there gazing at the mountain before us. There was no singing, whistling or conversation. I began feeling better about a half hour after I arrived, much better.
There was a fetid smell that I got used to, and flies swarmed all around us. But a sense of calm overcame everything. I actually relished the aroma, so thick one could almost swallow it. This was working.
I just pray some stupid environmentalists or politicians don't interfere and try to remove our savior. This is still The Great Recession and many of us are nervous wrecks. Where would we be, any of us, without our Staten Island Landfill?
I think a seagull just dropped something on my head.