Th' Christmas Rat: Part IV

First off I need to tell you that a couple strong men had to carry Dandy up th' stairs at Clap 'n' Clap to get him to th' practice room for our meeten about th' Christmas show. Captain Crocker chattered an' jumped up an' down all nervous like to see his master lifted an' moved. I almost comforted that monkey but decided not to as I didn't want Chazz to get all jealous, and besides, I could see the fleas crawlen on th' coat a th' little Santa suit th' Captain now wore. I'd already exterminated them pests from Chazz the day before, an' I weren't about to make another smudge pot usen creosote an' catfish an' bad bourbon an' sit in a phone booth for four hours breathen in all that foul smoke just to make a critter comfortable. My head still buzzed an' swarmed from that nasty but healen miasma (fancy word!). Damn dumb way to spend a day in my opinion, but you got to comfort animals an' I'd do it again—just not for th' Captain.

So we was all getten together in th' practice room an' it were quite a sight. First off, they was a huge pile a robes an' scarves an' sandals an' all kinds a Bible clothen an' some finery i guess were meant for th' Wise Men, I know Dandy wheeled hisself immediately over to th' stack a gold vests an' crimson robes an' enormous turbans th' size a an eagle's nest, he picked up such a turban an' barked at th' Captain to help him rewrap it so it fit his head better. That monkey scooted straight over in his Santa suit an' unwound th' turban about as fast as he could peel a banana, then bound Dandy's head with th' many feet of white linen binden cloth. It reminded me th' times I'd wrapped up dead relatives before we gave them a bayou burial, which weren't a matter a diggen in th' dirt an' plunken th' body in like you was planten taters or onions, but instead hewen out a skiff from a felled tree usen an old adze, setten the mummy body (for that's what it looked like to me) in the boat an' given it a hard shove into a river channel, where nature's undertakers an' sextons take care a th' remains an' return our package back to its sender, you know what I mean.

Damned old Dandy did enjoy dressen up, the Captain, too, from what I could see. Somewhere that monkey scrounged up a beautiful red stone like a garnet or a ruby to fix to Dandy's turban. I could tell by the way Dandy held his head he felt pretty proud a hisself, an' only a heartless sumbitch could begrudge a legless man his pride. He then sent the Captain over to seize some a that beautiful Wise Men clothing before others could claim it for theyselves. The way that monkey minded Dandy impressed me a lot, an' I pointed that out to Chazz, who by now had left Sister Edith's beehive hair nest for a perch on my shoulder an' th' handful a oyster crackers I was eaten an' now shared with him. "You might want to learn from that monkey about how to treat yore master," I suggested. An' Chazz did! He scooted down to th' floor an' dashed over to a pile a clothes an' picked me out a beautiful robe whose deep blue color complimented my eyes, an' was just th' right size, too. Chazz dragged that robe back to me, demonstraten the fearsome strength rats pack into they small bodies. He even helped me put it on, pullen a corner a th' robe up over my shoulder as he held it in his mouth an' ran up my body. "You definitely th' smartest pet in Louisiana," I told that sewer rat, kissen him on top a his head.

"I sure hell am," Chazz answered.

This nearly floored me an' only th' desire not to seem weak to Sister Edith, now in th' room, an' Dandy, an' th' other girls, an' a couple other down-an'-outters Dandy had dragged in from th' street, an' Nazi Klaus, who sat in a folden chair on th' yonder side a th' room eaten a big black sausage he held like an ear a corn, nibblen on it like th' animal he'd been an' maybe still was. An' for an instant I almost thought I was psycho like so many a my relatives. A rat talken to me! Not even Chazz could be so smart.

"You sure hell heard right," Chazz said.

My eyes musta saucered up cause Chazz balled up his paws an' rubbed his own eyeballs with them before pointen at me. "You always a talker, or you learned it now?" I finally managed to ask my little friend.

"I speak always," Chazz answered. "Learned at Tulane. Born there inna sorority house. My home still."

I didn't want to admit I didn't know what a sorority was. Find me a dictionary later. "Let's keep yore talken quiet," I suggested to Chazz. I could just see Dandy exploiten my pal the way he did the Captain. I shuddered wonderen how he'd take Chazz from me, a scary image formen a his buddy Nazi Klaus setten down his sausage an' picken up a luger pistol an' shooten me when I aint looken. I didn't trust that fat man but he did give me a good meal. You got to pick th' good parts a folks, I guess, an' cobble them together to form a vision a humanity aint as bleak as what you get from individual people, who always disappoint.

Sister Edith clapped her bony hands a few times to get our attention, motionen to th' folden chairs to set our asses down an' listen. I picked a chair up front an' off to one side. One nearest th' door, in fact, for reasons I cant explain except I grew up always looken for an' escape route an' often needen to use it. Aint easiest thing in th' swamp to find, either, what with all th' water you swim in only you wanna lose your feet to reptiles. But I weren't bad at swingen from tree-to-tree like a monkey I needed to, probably better at it than th' Captain, judgen from his nervous little body, that monkey radiated fear an' likely could use counselen, not that he'd ever get it, Dandy been Dandy an' concerned about hisself mainly. Not my goddamned business anyway, but I couldn't help feelen a little sorry for that ape. I turned my head toward Chazz, who was still resten on my shoulder. "I glad I got you an' not another pet," I said, poochen my lips out an' kissen my rat's nose.

"You best, Ethel," Chazz whispered back. "Better than sorority girls."

Tears sprung to my eyes like a couple a spurten fountains an' I covered my face quickly an' rubbed it hard. I learned you let people see you cry you might just better let them knock you on yore skull with a clawhammer, they got you they see you looken weak. Damned old world is too hard sometimes you got a tender bone in yore skeleton. But it's better to be that way I imagine than hard as an iron skillet. Who'd want to kiss an old fry pan? Or call it Mama?

"Listen now," Chazz ordered. He was right, I was getten off track in my thinken. By now Sister Edith had shusshed enough folks an' gotten them to sit down so she could speak instead a yellen. That women had her a presence I seldom seen in others. My Aunt Junie Bugg might a rivaled but not surpassed Sister Edith. Junie Bugg was over six feet tall an' weighed in at 280 pounds an' could hold two ten pound mauls at arm's length for a whole afternoon, she did that once to win a smoked ham at th' county fair, then went home an' ate that whole chunk a meat herself for supper, I seen this with my own eyes. Nobody said nothen cause Junie Bugg weren't all there after she got tail whipped in th' head by a big mama gator she'd crept up behind to steal its clutch a eggs it was warmen under a pile a leaves an' shit. Not that Junie Bugg ended up dumb, exactly, for my Grandmaw Dominique had the healen touch an' made a heavy poultice she strapped to Junie Bugg's head for a whole week, what all went into th' sack I can't say other than th' smell was worse than a rattlesnake den. But Junie Bugg acted odd an' moody rest a her life, not sleepen much an' believing she was Queen a th' Jews an' Jesus Christ hisself was gonna marry her swamp cracker ass. An' you suggested otherwise to Junie Bugg only at yore own peril. Damn shame she died when she did an' in th' manner a her demise. Eaten by wild pigs when they cornered her against a cypress tree when she was out seeken herbs an' roots to make some medicine from. All we found a her was her spine an' her shoes an' a ring made outta both barbed an' copper wire twisted into a metal braid. Oh, an' four dead pigs includen th' big boar we all called "Jerome" after an especially fat cousin a my mama's. Never thought that elephant pig would meet his match. Junie Bugg appeared to have strangled him, God only knows how.

Sister Edith commanded my attention not because a what she looked like or said, but what she didn't say. She possessed what you might call a horse face, not that she was butt ugly, precisely, but that it was long as a child's torso an' full a big teeth. Oh, an' she could flick her ears different directions, twitch, twitch, twitch, like she was chasen off flies, or listenen to two folks chatten in separate conversations. She was beautiful in her own way, though, tall an' pale an' she had big grey eyes she swiveled round in they sockets so as not to miss a beat. She was clad in a gown a her own craften, cloth wrapped about her like th' rich Roman wife a Gus or Julie Caesar. She had black hair she'd pulled behind her head so it hung like a noose nearly down to her hips, all ribboned up, I thought a horses an' they fancy manes. An' long elegant arms she waved in th' air like they was cobras an' she was charmen them. The effect was peaceful, even hypnotic. Every damn fool in th' audience shut up an' watched, even windbag Dandy, who'd wheeled hisself to th' front a th' room an' sat beside Sister, th' Captain actually sleepen in his lap an' looken like th' Baby Jesus, his constipated little face relaxed at last, like he'd unclenched all his sphincters an' let flow everythen he'd ever bottled up in his short mean life's journey from th' jungle to th' French Quarter.

"Thank you all for coming," Sister finally said. "This year's show will be our best ever, I'm convinced, as we have a new manger constructed by our friends at St. Louis Cathedral. I also am very pleased to welcome a remarkable young lady who's new to town, Miss Ethel Thibodeaux, late of the bayou, and her pet rat, Chazz. Both will take part in our show, Chazz as a lamb, and Ethel as Mary. We'll have more animals this year, too, including, I am told, three genuine camels for our Wise Men, an ox and an ass, and of course Captain Crocker, whose role is evolving. My initial intention for tonight was for us to read through our script, so capably written by our very good friend, Dandy, but as it's a beautiful evening and the manger has just been erected, I suggest instead we head over there to get a feel for it. Any questions?"

I looked round th' room an' waited until I was sure no one else had nothen to say, then I raised my hand.

"Yes, Ethel," Sister said. "What's your question?"

"Who you haven be th' little baby Jesus?"

Sister smiled. "Miss Dawn has graciously offered to lend us her own baby for the performance, provided, of course, she delivers by then."

I looked at th' half-wit girl what was about eleven months pregnant judgen from her enormous size. Roundest person I ever seen, an' slow upstairs, not that I have any trouble with that in folks generally, but Dawn weren't dumb from brain problems best I could tell, instead she just made peculiar decisions such as rubben her big belly with Miracle Whip she pulled from th' fridge. I shit you not that I caught her smearen that crap onto herself at lunchtime. I said nothen then, but upon hearen Sister's comment, I leaned over an' asked Dawn what hell she'd been up to smearen sandwich spread on her stomach. She looked at me with her blank ewe's face an' said she wanted her baby exposed to miracles much as possible. I couldn't help myself when I blurted out that as that goes she was whippen her kid, too, count a th' second half a that product's name.

What I would a done different had I known Dawn's reaction was just about everythen. But time's an arrow that rarely double back's on itself an' flies home to its sender, so it aint good to dwell on th' what-ifs and would-a-beens. Whole damn world thought this way more often we'd be hell th' better for it. Not that Dawn herself was likely to ever think on anythen more weighty than what kind a toothpaste to buy an' when to brush her teeth with it. I come from a line a folks so many a whom got they's bells rung hard an' often I aint got th' sympathy I should for those who act stupid but truly aint. Meanen Dawn an' how she blubbered. "I aint a child abuser," she balled. "I just want a miracle baby."

Sister glided over to Dawn an' snaked her long cobra arms around that poor silly thing, murmurren soothen words an' cooen in her ear an' such while flashen me a nasty look that reminded me they aint no true refuges in life, least not for a swamp cracker runaway like me. Sure I was a little disappointed, maybe more than a little, but I gave Chazz a squeeze an' it settled me, critters been on th' whole better companions than man miserable man. "Watch out for Sister," my rat whispered into my ear. "Her hair's nice but she's a madam."

"Th' hell," I whispered back. "She's like a nun."

"Chazz found fetus tucked inna Sister's hair."

"Was it human?"

"Little girl. Now hush."

This was absolutely disgusten, and I was now on watch for trouble. My temptation was to bolt, but I truly had nowhere to go, an' besides I really wanted to play th' Blessed Virgin while I still was one. I did some quick thinken an' reckoned Sister must a been transporten th' remains a th' "procedures" what went on in th' Clap 'n' Clap clinic. Why she'd take a chance a haven Chazz drag out a little dead arm or foot or somethen was harder to figure. Maybe she thought Chazz would gobble up th' dead baby an' she'd be spared tossen it into th' river, or whatever hell she aimed to do with it.

"You eat youself any a that fetus?" I asked Chazz softly.

"No. It smelled too bad."

"You mean to tell me a rat can find a stink too rank to abide?"

"I sorority rat, Ethel, so I classy," Chazz reminded me. "Quiet! Here come Sister."

That big rangy woman sidled over to us. She knew I knew she were up to no good, I could see this in her grey eyes I'd admired so only five minutes before. My warm feelens a yesterday seemed a year ago to me, an' I regretted i didn't have my sticken knife on my person. But my fists would do in an emergency, I figured, an' Chazz had hisself some mighty mean choppers I could hear him gnashen. "Steady," I said. "She aint likely to go after us here."

"I chew her nose off she bother you, Ethel," Chazz said plainly. There go my eyes again, misten up! Damned nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, I believe. "You a rat sent by God hisself," I told my little chum.

"Amen," Chazz replied. He hopped on top a my head, assumen what I could only suppose was a battle crouch. His claws kind a hurt diggen into my scalp, but kind a felt good, too. Besides, I didn't begrudge my bodyguard th' need for good purchase. An' this way he could pretty much stare Sister straight in th' eye, me been pretty tall myself, an' Chazz a good eighteen inches long, not counten his whippy tail.

Sister stared at me good an' hard an' long. I met her gaze blink for blink. An' Chazz I couldn't see, but I imagined his bulgy rat eyes locked in place an' mightily focused.

"Okay. Fine. I understand you, now, Ethel, and you appear to understand me," Sister said with ice in her voice.

"I understand I aim to play th' Virgin Mary, then get hell out a this place," I answered. "Chazz an' me got plans."

Sister set her jaw hard like she was cracken Brazil nuts with her big teeth. "We all have plans, Ethel. What matters is whether we can execute them or not."

Chazz gripped my scalp extra hard at th' word 'execute.'

It got my attention, too.

Sister whirled around like them hippo ballerinas in th' movie "Fantasia." "To Jackson Square, all," she ordered, clappen her hands three times. "Let's march like soldiers of Christ."

"If you don't mind, I'll just wheel myself like one," said legless Dandy.

Everybody laughed but Chazz an' me.

Th' Christmas Rat: Part III

Clap 'n' Clap is where Chazz an' me went after I left Dandy an' Captain Beauregard Crocker to they routine a preparen for th' day's beggen, excuse me, performen on th' street for they livelihood. But basically they begged for they daily bread, what Klaus didn't give them, at least, as th' Captain's act grew thin as a muskrat's tail, his rope work interesten but only until the novelty a seen a monkey twirl a lasso lasted. For me that meant about five minutes, an' truth be told, I found Chazz more fascinaten an' intelligent than th' Captain ever was, as you'll soon see for yourself. An' Dandy tried to compliment his monkey's tricks by speaken in all sorts a old languages, reciten the Pledge a Allegiance in Mesopotamian, or th' Lord's Prayer in th' Viking tongue, or th' Gettysburg Address in Leprechaun, though I a course had to take his word for all these, as I know Swamp Cajun an' that's it. Honestly, I figured that Dandy was just maken up everythen he said, he all but admitted to me what a big liar he was, an entertainen one, to be sure, but a liar nevertheless. So when I went over to Clap 'n' Clap an' shook hands with Sister Edith an' felt the warmth in her grasp an' th' kindness in her eyes, I felt maybe I'd stepped up outta the swamp mud an' the street gutter an' into a new life a truth an' beauty. Not just her response to me, either, but to Chazz, who I held up to her face to gauge her reaction to that big white rat.

Her smile just widened an' she kissed Chazz on his whiskery snout! I about dropped my supper right there on th' street this surprised me so. "He's beautiful, and so are you, cher," she said all elegantly. "Now come inside and I'll show you to your room."

My room! Closest thing I ever had to a room was an old outhouse that outlived it's usefulness an' Daddy said could be mine I took care a the snake an' the overflow problem the builden had. That weren't too difficult, as snakes never scared me none. I took a five gallon can a diesel fuel I stole from Daddy's own stash an' poured it down th' hole an' lit a match an' tossed it in. Two things I figured to happen happened. One, the snakes skedaddled quicker than you can say "Grampaw's yore mama." They hate the flames, snakes do, an' you leave some ashes an' cinders around a place you burned they dont come back for fear it might could happen again. An' two, the contents a the outhouse pit'll burn an' burn an' burn till it's all gone, not spectackularly like an' airboat blows up when a person shoots at its fuel tank, but gently an' smolderenly, over a period about a week or ten days. Fact is, th' gentle burnen is perfect you wanna slow cook somethen like a big wild boar, which I did outta gratitude for getten my own place. I killed a boar with a shotgun an' gutted it an' doused it with peppers an' onions an' garlic an' red beans an' Tabasco an' brown sugar, then tupped him into th' hole after first clearen away the shitter seat boards, which I used to make myself my own chair. Now this way a cooken might not sound appetizen to non-swamp folk, but they aint no germs nor crap itself left after the burnen, an' they's a pleasen caramelizen effect on th' boar's skin, which becomes crispier than cracklens. Umm God but my mouth do water at th' thought!

So the family had itself a feast, kin from three swamps over, includen an especially primitive bunch a rubes liven in some place so removed from th' world they's rumors a dinosaurs liven they still. This I dont believe, but these cousins aint got airboats or even guns, but skiff an' dugouts they trained snappen turkles to pull, alligator gars, too, like water chariots, the sight is wonderful to see but not the cousins theyselves, who were coated with swamp mire so thick an' crusty they look like animals theyselves. The language they speak is somethen only Dandy could understand, given he traffics in gibberish an' so did they. Th' stories a what transpired at th' party I can tell someday, provided you agree not to sue me for wrecken yore view a humanity.

But I had my own little place—for about a week. I'd whitewashed it an' made a swingen bed a vines an' had my little shitter board chair an' a matchen table an' a kerosene lantern an' three books I'd hidden from my idiot brothers an' parents, none a who could outread a cypress tree, they'd a tore the books's pages to use to roll into bayou blunts an' smoke theyselves silly on Red Delta hash mixed with wormen syrup. Damn bunch a drunks an' drug addicts. Back to my beloved books. One was the Bible, another was "Henderson the Rain-King" by Saul Bellow an' th' third was "Life on the Mississippi" by Mr. Mark Twain. I read each a them cover-to-cover maybe one hundred times, who was counten? I probably could say them books backwards still while standen on my head, jugglen okra an' drinken a tall cold glass a cherry Coke. An' fact is I done just that later on in my stay in New Orleans, after th' tragedy a th' Christmas pageant came an' went an' I needed a way to support myself till I was old enough to pole.

Here I'm ramblen again the way my least favorite brother, Denver, tended to do after he fell outta a tree an' cracked his head open an' you could see the white sharp pieces a skull poken through his torn skin an' grey-white bits a brain bubblen out like the foamy wake an airboat trails it speeden through dirty water. Mama cleaned him off with her hair an' closed everythen together best she could an' sat on his head for an entire day to bind the wound an' kill any germs. Pore damn Denver did live but he only can turn left now when he walks an' count no higher than two an' whistle while he talks. Worst thing an' why I hate him, though, was Mama made me turn over my new little home to Mr. Brain Dead for him to convalesce in, an' damned if he didn't succeed in burnen down that pretty outhouse (an' my books, too!) when he was amusen hisself by setten beetles on fire an' watchen them run. Damn fool Denver I do hate him so!

Somehow it weren't more than five minutes after meeten Sister Edith she got this whole story outta me an' I even cried a little an' let her an' Chazz comfort me, the one through hugs, the other with little claw scratchens on my arm at an accupressure point, rats a course naturally knowen all about the body's meridians a health an' healen. Why else does science think they an' not we will survive global heaten an' nuclear war an' catastrophes a all stripes? Sister Edith herself saw that Chazz was special, she told me so an' let him burrow down into th' tremendous beehive hair heap toweren above her scalp. Durren the few days I stayed at Clap 'n' Clap, th' sight a Chazz's snout poken outta Sister's hair was common.

I got a quick tour a her place, met a bunch a th' other girls, most seemed a little slow an' not a few waddled about with a belly taut with a baby. But they was polite an' clean an' we all took our meals together in a communal dinen area next to th' kitchen. We shared th' household chores includen the cooken, an' my but I am proud a th' fact that everybody's favorite was my special dessert made a sweet plums an' sorghum topped by curdled buttermilk an' dumped over a pile a stale bread dusted with brown sugar. Sister herself had three helpens!

My room was simple an' clean an' small, just an iron bed with a thin mattress, nice cotton sheets an' a quilt, a pine wardrobe, a table, a chair an' a Bible. But it opened onto a fancy iron balcony I enjoyed sitten on an' watchen th' spectacle that is th' French Quarter every evenen reveal itself to my bayou peepers. Better to be two stories above it all, cher, than down in th' thick a it, like Dandy an' the Captain, who I waved to often.

Th' religious part weren't forced upon me, though I went to several a th' services an' found them most curious. Sister herself sat up front next to Father Wayne, who when I asked him admitted he weren't no Catholic priest, but that he was religious nevertheless an' devoted hisself to th' Lord. Funny thing about him is his name truly was Father Wayne, or so said his drivers' license when I lifted his wallet an' peeked through it. I ask you this: who th' hell would name a baby "Father"? Course I couldn't ask my new friends about this owing to picken his pocket an' my not wanten to admit it. No, I stole nothen, only snooped.

Anyhow, th' church service consisted a all us girls standen up an' holden hands in a circle an' moven first three full turns to th' right, then three to th' left, then crowd in together an' raise our hands high, then let go a our hands an' lower our eyes to th' ground an' stand there for a couple minutes, mumblen "God is God is God is good" while Sister an' Father walked slowly around the lot a us sprinklen a little red wine on our heads. After this, we reformed our circle an' hummed a soft tune while Sister read from her Bible. Then we had to lie down on th' floor forehead first, palms flat in front a us, grinnen, as Father gave a short sermon. This took only about five minutes, but the girls heaviest with kids took to moanen, as they was uncomfortable, which Father an' Sister paid no never mind. Then we got to get up, kissed Sister's ring an' Father's ring an' pledged ourselves to good behavior an' daily showeren, which Father emphasized was th' first step to salvation, look at John th' Baptist always waist deep in water, an' Jesus hisself washen th' feet a his friends. Then church was over until the next afternoon, as worship was a daily event at Clap 'n' Clap.

An' I did ask Sister about the name a her place. The Clap part as in th' gonoree I understood, an' never once did I peep behind the clinic door, though there was always patients streamen through it. My hunch was there was a few abortions occurren there, too, maybe even mainly those, at least on Tuesdays. Also, th' patients seemed exclusively to be ladies in th' entertainment industry, if you can grab onto my meanen. Once I took to th' pole myself my hunch was confirmed. But that was a couple years down th' pike. What I wanted to know at th' time was why the church service didn't seem very Gospel, what with no clappen a hands or singen songs or any a that good old time religion stuff. An' Sister smiled when I asked this an' said wait till the Christmas show, I can hear all the clappen I want then.

"Okay I'll wait," I said, "but I been here three days an' Christmas is next week an' aint we gonna practice any for th' show? I got no idea how to be th' Virgin Mary an' Chazz sure hell dont get he's gonna be a lamb."

What I'm tellen you now is th' absolute truth. I say his name, Chazz looked out from all a Sister's hair. "Baa, baa, baa," he said in a perfect lamb's voice. "Baa, baa, baa."

I didn't know what to say. Chazz grinned at me as did Sister Edith. "The Lord will provide," she finally proclaimed. "Tonight we start. Seven. In the chapel."

Then she nodded an' left, Chazz with her, I didn't mind him spenden time elsewhere as I had a headache from all th' strangeness an' needed to sleep. I got in a good three hour nap filled with th' damnedess dreams, what all I couldn't say they were so bizarre as to defy speech. But I woke up refreshed, Chazz by then had returned and nuzzled me again. A knock on th' door, Sister's voice, I was off to become th' Virgin Mary. Apart from wedden Donald DeVries an' haven plastic surgery on my chin, worst damn decision I ever made in my life, cher, was to walk through that door an' follow Sister to rehersal. You'll find out why soon enough.

Th' Christmas Rat: Part II

Hey good people, this is Miz Gator Ethel back with more a th' story a my first week in New Orleans and the special people I met, th' rat I befriended, name a Chazz, the monkey Chazz wanted to kill, Captain Crocker, and a course Dandy, th' gent who
lost his legs back in th' war. Last time I brought you all to th' point where the German restaurant owner was gonna feed us, an' that he did, even Chazz got a little coffee cup filled with jambalaya made with knockwurst an' sauerkraut, the flavor was very strong an' unique, sorta like fried skunk, Daddy use to eat that with th' stink sacs on th' side for spice! But th' jambalaya was good an' the German, name a Klaus, was friendly for an old Nazi. We ate at an old beat up table behind th' restaurant on a little patio, an' there was cold beer to drink, black bread about as tough to chew as gator tail, an' a sweet pudden made out a cake an' fruits an' covered with heavy cream that was flavored with cloves an' cinnamon. Klaus was short, fat and merry, with eyes blue like a baby catfish, stiff red hair he cut short over his jug ears, a meaty face with long sideburns clingen to his jowls like a couple a fox squirrels, a little nose bright as a brass key an' a heavy belly hangen low over his groin. He had a German way a talken, too, kinda hard to follow. I said nothen to him beside what politeness demanded. He did like Captain Crocker, I could tell by th' way he petted him an' fed him little cookies he pulled outta his pocket. But still an' all, I could definitely see him shooten at Dandy, shooten to kill, too. An' vice-versa for that matter.

It's hard to go from wanten to kill someone to haven them as yore friend, though both men probably didn't realize this then. They would shortly, though, when the Christmas show went to hell. An' that's what I intend to tell you about. Now!

I thanked Klaus for th' meal once I finished an' he pressed a little pot wrapped in a towel into my arms. I thanked him again an' peeked under th' towel to find it full a curly sausages an' that black bread an' some shiny apples an' a fat wedge a cheese. Mmm mmm! Smell was wonderful. It'd keep me full for three days, an' the pot would make a nice place for Chazz to sleep, who was scratchen my leg and snufflen it. I looked down an' there he was grinnen at me again, an' he winked! Damn smart snowy rat I loved him already. Still, I wasn't about to turn him lose around the Captain, who was over squatten in th' alley relieven hisself. An' Dandy led us down the alley to his dumpster-cabin. "I'd invite you in, but it aint proper a young girl like you stayen there with an old amputee and busker like me. But I got a friend you'd like who could put you up a while. Name a Edith Ramouleaux. Everyone calls her Sister Edith."

I stepped back a step from Dandy an' asked who exackly was this Sister Edna, some nun?

"No but she run a church an' a clinic."

"Both?"

"Both. She a remarkable woman. Church is called 'Clap 'n' Clap.' Clinic runs by the same name. Anyway, she takes girls in who's leaven they families. Puts 'em to work, educates them, helps them better theyselves. But she fun, too, likes to laugh."

"She mind I have a pet rat?"

"That what he is now?"

"Yes."

He drew a deep breath an' reached for a pill vial in his shirt pocket, uncorked it an' shook our four, five big yellow tablets he swallowed without any liquid but th' spit in his mouth. Then he looked at me an' said, "You can ask about Chazz, but I aint maken any promises."

"Hey, never make any an' you never break any's how I see it."

"Good. They's one other thing."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We got ourselves a little tradition, Sister an' me, we put on a liven creche every year down in Jackson Square. For th' poor. Get animals an' people an' decorate up a stable we haul in an' Sister Edith an' me we tell th' Christmas story the way it really went down, usen Secret Gospels hidden by Charlemagne an' Alfred th' Great an' th' Emperor Constantine an' Josephine Bonaparte an' a slew a others down through the ages."

"Go on, you fibben."

"Am not."

"How you know all this?"

"When I fought in the Battle a the Bulge, we hunkered down for a week in an old monastery th' Germans had blasted with they shells. Place all crumblen an' busted up, but I found a vault. Another fellow an' I took a mortar round, pointed it against the vault's door an' fired at it from a safe distance back. Scared shit outta everyone, who was other end a th' builden, they heard the explosion an' just figued it was th' damn Germans again. So we ran back to them, offered to check it out, ran back again and dug through th' rubble into th' open vault. Walked in on somethen amazen, too."

"What? What you find?"

"First I gotta ask you if you with us?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if you with us?"

"Hell yes I with you. Now, what you find in this vault?"

"You be part a our Christmas show I tell you?"

"Do I have to strip?"

"Hell no you dont. This a religious exhibit. What you take me for?"

"A man."

"I grant you th' point. No, no strippen required, encouraged or permitted. I'm thinken a usen you as th' Virgin Mary, if you dont mind."

I didn't know what to say this seemed such an honor, even to someone like me brought up mainly as a member a th' Bayou Baptist Church a Christ th' Terrible Redeemer, which includes a healthy dose a voodoo in th' service an' much talk a Hell an' damnation, which didn't sound all that different from what my life was like anyway. "Sure I'll be yore virgin," I agreed. "Now what you find in that vault?"

Captain Crocker was all snoozy an' jumped onto Dandy's lap an' curled up an' fell asleep, snorren like an old grandpa after a trip to a whorehouse. I sat down on a bald abandoned tire an' let Chazz perch on my shoulder an' nibble some nits from my hair.

Dandy coughed up about half his lung, took another few a his pills, an' said they was only a small but fancy scroll in th' vault made outta animal skins an' wound around a gold-plated rod that was shaped on both ends into smilen skulls. Neither Dandy or his buddy could understand the writen on the scroll, which appeared to be in some other language, maybe Roman or Grecian or Jew, they didn't know. But they dropped their treasure into a rucksack an' cinched it tight an' swore they wouldn't tell a soul, an' if either a them got killed, th' other could keep th' scroll outright, otherwise they'd share it, an' once th' war ended go to a library an' figure out what it said.

"An' that's what I did, Ethel, I took that scroll home with me an' moved down here to New Orleans where I went to Tulane an' got myself three degrees in ancient languages, an' I translated it an' published a book about it called 'The Secret Gospel According to Jebenezzarchaiahakukaphazz.' Gospel a Jeb's how I refer to it usually."

"What's it about?"

"You'll find out as we rehearse. It actually aint that long, but it's revolutionary. Most a th' scroll consisted a recipes—many a them used by Klaus here."

"What about yore friend? He help decipher th' code?"

"He never made it outta that monastery, Ethel."

"Germans kill him?"

"Dont know. He was shot in th' back that night. We found him dead face down in a puddle."

"You kill him?" I blurted this out as I couldn't help myself.

"No," Dandy said. Oddly he didn't seem angry about my question, which made me think a course he was fibben.

"Can I see th' scroll?"

"No, that's gone, I'm afraid."

"Happened to it?"

He nodded at the captain, whose snorren had quieted. "He ate most a it last year."

"Good God. You whup him?"

"Hell no. That scroll was made from a dead animal. I aint gonna punish a liven one for been true to his nature. Besides, I wouldn't want to hurt th' Baby Jesus."

"Huh?"

"Captain here play Jesus in th' show every year."

"You mean I'm playen that monkey's mama?"

"That bother you?"

"No, I guess not. I got to tell you, though, I dont believe any a yore story."

Dandy laughed. "You a smart girl. But a story aint gotta be true to mean somethen, you know."

I nodded.

"I gotta go," Dandy said. "Sister's place just across the street. That her waven at you from th' door. You go over there, come back here tomorrow at noon."

"You sure she'll let me bring Chazz along?"

"Hell yes. He can be in th' play hisself. A Christmas lamb. Think he'd like that?"

"Yeah."

"Guess we'll find out soon enough."

Th' Christmas Rat: Part I

Hallo, cher, this is Miz Gator Ethel Thibodeaux here with a heartwarmen Christmas tale that's true mostly, which parts exackly I no longer remember, but they's truth in what I say, if not always in how I say it. But you been polen yore Cajun ass away in th' joints I've worked over the past thirty years, it's almost been, an' you forgive youself the details you forgotten. Now Whiski Rae got herself outta th' business in time to salvage that smart mind a hers, thank God! That is one sharp femme, a premier proctodermatologist, I think I got the spellen right, my protege one time an' now our roles is reversed, ever since I agreed to spend most a the year up North at th' Balzac Institute a Partial Recovery, where I am chief cook an' menu planner an' she is co-director with that wild man a hers, Dusty. But if you read this blog (and God bless you if you aint been spenden yore time better an' wiser) you know all this already. So, to the story of th' Christmas rat.

I was fresh outta th' bayou back in th' late 1970s when I ran away from my family such as they were. Now I aint about to tell you a sob story about my life growen up with the dumbest group of scumbag dirtball cockroaches ever the swamp spit up then swallowed again, though they was all that an' less. Uncles married to cousins who birthed they own grandmas. A kidnapper so dumb he put a ransom out on his own head, then cut off his fingers an' toes an' mailed it to hisself as a warnen against what? Suicide? My mother meaner than a stuck wild pig, an' longer tusks, too. My dad th' drunkest man in Louisiana, he was even born drunk thanks to my grandma, who then bottle fed him malt liquor mixed with molasses for th' first several years a his life. Weighed over two hundred pounds by the end a his five years in third grade! Time I left th' swamp the sugar beetus shrunk him down from a top weight a four hundred pounds to less than a quarter a that. Nickname a Cornstalk at th' time a his death. Ma danced on his grave then married Dad's own sister's mother-in-law's niece's stepson. Meaning her half-brother. Held th' ceremony right at th' funeral. Voodoo priestess officiaten. I aint seen none a them since that time. Whole goddamn mess a nutjobs.

So I snuck away after th' wedden an' made my way to th' Crescent City. I'd hardly been to a town before, so to see this fabled city for th' first time was a treat beyond compare. I might as well landed on Mars it was so unusual to see all them people, especially ones with teeth that closed flush with each other. My God but the variety of persons I saw was amazen as well: peoples of all colors an' races an' about five or six different sexes when I thought they was at most 2 1/2. I saw Cajuns like me staggeren around mouths draggen open like they was inviten a pigeon to lay her eggs in the hole, an' jazz musicians a all hues standen in the streets tooten they horns an' fiddlen they fiddles an' dancen an' singen an' bangen spoons on they knees an' strummen banjos an' guitars an' some magick men with card tricks to cheat you outta money an' a legless gent with a shaved head who owned a little monkey he kept on a leash, that monkey was dressed in sparkly finery and he had a little lasso he twirled over his hairy ape skull. Throwed the loop at crickets, mice, june bugs whatever strolled by. Caught them more often than not--includen somethen that monkey and Mr. No Legs came to regret: a big ole sewer rat about th' size of a lamb.

I aint kidden you neither. I was maybe fifteen, an' it was December the week before Christmas an' I was hungry an' cranky an' wet an' scared. Not scared like I couldn't take care a myself, for what else had I done since Mama pulled her nipple outta my mouth when I was six years old? But scared cause I'd hardly ever been to school an' I didn't really have any city work skills. Now, they need someone to kill a nutria with a thrown rock at twenty paces, or tame a cottonmouth down to chase it outta yore skiff, or dive deep into th' swamp waters to catch a snappen turkle for supper, or gut rub a gator an' put him to sleep, or brew up some Bayou Booze so powerful you numb yore tongue for a week just sippen a little a it, or take out a pendicks from yore little brother when it's just about to explode, then I was the girl for them. But so far in my week in New Orleans, sleepen on a bench in Jackson Square in front a that big goddamn church, the lights shinen on it throughout the night so bright I had to pull a bag over my head, nobody asked me to do none a those things, cher, no way. A few men wanted sick favors from me but once they saw the sawed off ten gauge double barrelled shotgun that hung round my neck from a lanyard and was hidden under my coat, they backed away fast. Not that I couldn't a torn them in two just with my fingers. Like I'd never had to do that to some randy old buck before! I knew how to keep myself safe from twelve foot gators, after all. Some horndog with the syph an' the clap wasn't no challenge to me.

But seen that roped rat made me feel vulnerable. The noleg man yelled at his monkey to let it go. "Beauregard, drop the lariat! Boy! Let him loose!" But th' little monkey seemed to think it was a game, he chattered away an' hopped up an' down an' peed himself he was so thrilled, I could see the dark seep in the crotch a his fancy pants. The rat, as I said, was huge! An' he was an albino, so as I said he seemed like a little lamb to me, only not very gentle. Now rats they dont usually bother me, we kept them for pets as kids, as dogs an' cats dont last in th' swamp, as they's dumber than the natural critters that tend to see a meal they see Rover or Fluff. This rat was twice th' size a most bayou rats, which I suspect had to do with all that fine food the Big Easy's known for, you just know you walk by trash bags outside a restaurants they bound to be full a munchen rodents. An' I could see by th' way he set his eyes on that monkey an' tensed his hindquarters he was about to pounce an' kill th' fellow. Eat him, probably, for rats aint choosy.

So I stepped in. No, not with my ten gauge, either. The rat sprung, the man cried "No!" The monkey shit himself. I snaked a hand out an' grabbed that rat by the tail. Must a weighed a good eight, ten pounds, too, he did. I gave the rat a few swings around my head, the monkey as well, he was either too scared or too dumb to drop his lasso. But this is the way we put babies to sleep in th' swamp, singen a lullaby to them while they's twirled. Such as I sung:

Twirl, baby, twirl.
Twirl yoreself to sleep.
Spin an' swing around
an' round.
Spin yoreself to sleep.
Dont puke while you do whirl,
Just whirl yoreself to sleep.
Dont wake up till my bottle's drunk,
An' I've drunk myself to sleep.

Bye and bye both animals stopped they strugglen an' I layed them down at th' feet—excuse me, the stumps—a the man, who introduced himself as Professor Dandelion Horatio Longacre, IV. I looked at him an' said since he obviously was fibben me—no way he weren't some fool by th' name a Robideaux or LeBoeuf—I'd just call him Dandy. He said fine.

But I did soften to him some as I watched him cradle his monkey an' stroke its head an' coo to it. Meanwhile I kept an eye on th' rat an' cinched the lasso tight around its neck an' looped the cord around its legs to hobble it. An', yes, I found myself scratching it behind its ears an' smoothen its coat down an' flicken fleas off a its back. An' he sneezed an' opened his eyes an' stared at me a little nervous first until I hummed the lullaby to it an' fed him a boiled crawfish I found in th' gutter. He chewed it carefully an' flashed me a little rat grin. I knew then we was gonna be tight.

"Chazz," I said softly.

"Pardon?" This from Dandy.

"I'm callen my rat Chazz. After my favorite brother."

"Yore rat?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he said. "Just dont let him kill my monkey. I paid lots a money for him. We performen on th' streets a this town for over three years."

"You do well?"

"It's a liven. Cops watch out for me."

"You got a home?"

"A shed back a this builden, in th' alley, all the home I need."

I stood up an' looked where he pointed an' saw an old rusted dumpster turned upside down with a door an' a couple a windows hacked outta the metal. "That's where you live?"

"Yeah," he said, an edge to his voice. "Where you liven?"

I swept my hand back an' forth.

"So you on the street?"

"For now. How'd you lose your legs? Or didn't you ever have any?"

"I did. A German 88 millimeter shell tore through my tank in Belgium duren World War II an' took my legs with it."

"I'm sorry. How'd you live?"

"The cold froze the bleeden vessels shut until a medic found me."

"Did it hurt?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Course it hurt, but it don't now."

"Well, I guess that's good. I suppose I should be getten on now."

"You got an appointment somewhere?"

"You know I dont."

"Then wait here an' have supper with me. The restaurant owner feeds me an' th' monkey every night."

"That's nice a him. Why's he do that?"

"He fought in the war, too."

"He was yore buddy then?"

"Not exactly. He served in th' German army. For all I know, he might a been shooten at me."

"You think?"

"I dont, but it's possible. We were in th' same area at th' same time."

"An' now you friends?"

"An' now we friends. Here, give me a little tug so I can wheel over back a th' alley to the restaurant's kitchen door. He let's me eat inside."

"I can go inside with you?"

"I dont see why not."

"What about Chazz?"

"Hell, long as you keep him on you, I dont think Klaus would care. They's rats in every restaurant in th' Quarter, includen th' fancy ones."

So that's how I come to meet Dandy, his monkey, Captain Crocker, the restaurant owner, Klaus von Reinkampf, and how Chazz an' me came to play big roles in th' Christmas paegant Dandy put on every year in Jackson Square—except never after the one Chazz an' I was in. More a' that story to come later, cher.