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."