Th' Christmas Rat: Th' End

Jackson Square was just a six block walk down St. Peter street from Clap 'n' Clap, an' I made sure I kept to th' rear a our little column a th' halt an' th' lame, th' evil an' th' righteous, th' pregnant an' the barren, th' four-legged an' they upright cousins. Chazz had told me he preferred to run ahead an' reconnoiter for th' two a us, keepen an' eye on Sister Edith an' th' slimy Father Wayne, who'd returned smellen strongly like a whore's cheap perfume, or so I imagined, not knowen exactly what kind a odor a whore pumped out, but this stink did overpower, sort a like Pastor Phony Baloney had washed hisself with one a them big chunky urinal mints th' men piss on in fancy restrooms, I had wandered into one such crapper at Klaus th' Kraut's place by accident only recently an' seen an' smelled these thick lozenges, a box a them was sitten a top a the sink an' I brought one out to Dandy, asken if it was some kind a candy. He choked he laughed so hard an' I had to pound him on his back to get his breathen back on track. Once he recovered he explained what it was, which most puzzled me since I wasn't accustomed to indoor plumben yet an' the smells in th' restrooms weren't nothen compared to th' outhouses I'd always used, some a which was just inhumane, th' Devil's own butthole likely haven nothen on them. Why spruce up air that weren't that bad to start with? A person might just as well waste his or her time salten a slice a ham steak. Which in fact is what killed my Great-Uncle Rene du Dumbshit, excuse me, Dumshawn, who sprung a leak in his brain from high blood pressure brought on by just such a habit. None a my relatives could believe this, but good old Dr. Carmandie claimed this was so, an' I weren't about to doubt th' smartest man in th' swamp.

Sister Edith was right, it was a beautiful evenen, warmish for December, th' shiny full moon gawpen at us from its perch on top a th' sky. I paused a little to look at this silvery beauty, which kept me company throughout my mostly unpleasant childhood, I often lay at night on th' rough wooden shingles cappen our house an' took notice a its waltz across th' dome a th' night. It were still hard for me to believe men had hopped through its fine grey dust like they was big white kangaroos, an' though my family mainly thought this a hoax, I seen TV pictures a it myself when I was little girl in school. I even sent some a them astronauts letters an' got back pictures a theyselves I kept till they got moldy. Come to think a it, th' dry moon was about as opposite place as I could imagine from th' bayou, th' latter a course was all wet an' watery an' full a green plants an' scaly reptiles an' inbred hicks too retarded for that mean term to fully apply. I envied them astronauts an' I hoped someday I might be th' first woman on th' moon, provided I could take Chazz along with me.

An' then soon as I thought that a sad feelen shook me like a big dog might jolt Chazz hisself if it caught an' bit my best friend an' started shaken its mongrel head aimen to kill: Chazz wouldn't be alive by the time I was old enough to float through space sucken up Tang an' squeezen jambalaya into my mouth from an aluminum tube. For I knew from my readen that rats seldom saw they fourth birthdays, an' while Chazz was special, certainly, that didn't make him immortal. I had no idea a Chazz's age now, an' for a moment my own breathen took a rest, what if he was nearen three, say, an' had only months to go? I felt sinful thinken this way, but I'd choose Chazz over any a my relatives save for my favorite brother, also Chazz, who escaped th' hell out a th' swamp by getten hisself appointed to th' Merchant Marine Academy located out in New York. I had a powerful urge to flee New Orleans right now with my rat an' catch a Greyhound bus an' head out to see the Only Sane Thibodeaux excepten myself. But no, I thought, I set out to be th' Holy Mother, an' damned if I wouldn't be her. I left now I figured that Sister Madam Edith would win an' that fetus-haired fraud deserved no victories whatsoever.

I trudged rather than marched down to Jackson Square an' its big fairy tale cathedral, Saint Louis, all toothy white as a new set a dentures, its three soaren steeples practically poken God in th' belly to make sure he takes note a th' fine religious folk what people his house a worship. Along th' way we passed streams a visitors waddlen in an' out a cafes, souvenir stores, bars, smut shops, voodoo haunts, even a Civil War place that sold old guns an' swords an' shit. Them tourists was many a them drunk, hurlen insults at our strange parade, the knocked-up hookers an' dancers moven real slow, Sister a head above almost anyone when you took into account her hair, the Captain clingen to Dandy, whose powerful arms wheeled hisself briskly along, he moved so fast he took to th' street itself, not the walk, zippen up an' down our straggly-ass acten troupe, shouten encouragements an' insults both, an' Father Wayne, now plainly drunk, pinchen some a th' girls in the ass, I almost hoped he'd try to cop a feel a me, I'd like to see that old lech spitten blood an' teeth into the gutter after I gave him a bayou handshake, meanen a hard elbow to his foul mouth. Plus Klaus was with us, too, drinken brandy from a flask an' getten silly, goose-steppen like the Nazis did, it seemed th' most natural form a locomotion for him. An' Chazz kept me posted what all was happenen, scouten things out, scurryen between th' legs a th' marchers, spyen on Sister, who raised a hand an' told us all to halt. My rat ran back to me to feed me th' info.

"It's Dawn. She have baby now."

"Right here in th' street?"

"Contractions start. Sister tell Father Wayne to call ambulance."

"Where do you think they'll take her?"

"Charity Hospital."

"You been there before?"

"I get stitches there once."

"They a vet hospital?"

"No. Chazz go in disguise."

"How in hell did they think you was a person? You big for a rat, sure, but smallish for even a baby."

"I tipped nurse fifty dollars I stole from sorority house. She split it with intern. Now we wait till ambulance comes for Dawn, then go to square.

I was starten to think this city was as peculiar as th' swamp. Maybe th' whole damn world was nuts, which was a harsh thought I intended not to pursue, hope been a gold nugget I'd hid on my person for years, an' not now wanten to see it tarnish none. So I took a couple deep breaths an' diverted my attention to my immediate surrounds. This kicked my worries an' doubts hard in th' gut, an' allowed me to focus. Mainly I heard very clearly Dawn shrieken in pain. I remembered th' many birthens I attended an' th' strange obstetrical customs a th' swamp crackers. I had slim but strong an' very nimble fingers, an' Dr. Carmandie for all his smarts had hands as chunky as smoked pork butts, so he'd call on me often to help when some poor dumb teenage girl was haven her first kid an' its big swollen head stopped up her pelvis good like a logjam in a creek. I had th' gift, Doc claimed, a sorten things out by touch, an' damned if he weren't right, I say so myself, I'd lard up my hands an' arms to ease passage up th' love channel, grab hold a th' little cretin's leg with one hand an' give it a pull backwards to let up pressure, thus permitten me to eel up my other hand an' give th' kid's head a quarter-twist. Out popped another moron almost always, sparen Doc th' need to carve open th' mama's belly an' shuck out Remy or Lillette. Another fifteen years down th' pike an' the red, slimy, squallen baby its fool mother was feignen to admire would be reproducen itself. Doc might still be around, but hell I'd be, my escape from that Heart a Darkness, to borrow a term from Mr. Conrad, already leaden me here an', I'd decided, upriver soon as I had passage, for my New Orleans experience to date was disappointen, Chazz excepten an', possibly, my role as th' Virgin.

I budged through all the girls an' came face-to-face with Sister Edith. Dawn was plopped down on a pair a round tables outside a cafe. "It's come! It's come! It's come!" she kept screamen. "I'm gonna have this baby here!"

"You ever birthed a kid an' not just abort them?" I asked Sister. Fury crossed her face an' she stepped toward me with shaken fists clenched tight as padlocks. Chazz scooted in from nowhere an' faced Sister off, his big teeth snappen together loud as, well, rat traps triggered. "I aint," Sister said, backen down. "You?"

"Many. Dozens."

"Then help before you leave."

Now I knew my dream to play Mary Mother a Christ was threatened an' probably gone. But at least I could deliver Dawn's bastard whelp. "Bring me some whisky," I barked at th' cafe manager who hovered around uselessly. "An' get your waiters to hold up some a these tablecloths. An' bring me some lard an' a scissors an' string."

"Yes, Mme."

Nobody had ever called me that before, and I wondered what he might a been taunten me. But he had a kind an' worried face for a little man, its many muscles all twitchen together an' createn a mask a fear I knew well from th' bayou. I'd need to thank him later for his promptness, his alacrity, to use a favorite word a Mr. Mark Twain's.

I had my supplies before I'd even rolled up my sleeves. Sister Edith backed away when I shot her a pitchfork glance, to use a swamp term, as in "Get yore cracker ass out a here 'fore I introduce yore liver to these tines." Some a th' less pregnant girls helped th' waiters hoist up th' tablecloths to give Dawn her privacy. I doused my hands in th' stingen whisky, then poured it over Dawn's bulgen yoo-hoo, which her baby's head was already butten through like a batteren ram at th' castle gates. One more good swing an' th' splinters would fly.

Chazz skipped up on th' table an' went to comfort Dawn, who was starten to panic, breathen way too fast, hyperventilaten so much her hands clawed up an' she yelped from th' crampen there as well as in her womb. Some a Chazz's gentle biten pressure on her left ear lobe settled her down fast, damned smart rat I admired him so. I nodded at him an' he winked back, an Oriental look to him, almost, though maybe I was influenced by th' strong whisky fumes I was inhalen. But I could really get to work now that Dawn was quieten down. She whimpered a little but Lord if it weren't almost peaceful, almost like chanten or a prayer. Good way for a baby to enter this bad, bad world.

Then th' Doors a Paradise opened , an' a shock a red hair flopped out as th' baby's head squeezed forward. Dawn didn't know this but she was lucky, this kid weren't over big an' was practically delivering itself. All I had to do was catch it, basically, though I thought it wise to put on a little show, owen to Sister Edith glaren at me an' my thought it might be smart I seem invaluable at th' moment, when in fact even drunken Nazi Klaus could be th' doctor here, shepherden the transition from the womb's watery world to th' dry land a life. An' you look at it like that, there aint much difference between us an' th' amphibians, what with both starten out in liquid before crawlen onto th' shore. Damned if everythen aint connected at some deep level. Sounds trite, I know, but it's true.

I knotted up th' umbilical cord real tight with a couple a shoelaces, then Chazz clipped that undulaten hose a life clean through with his teeth. An' I hoisted th' boy onto Dawn's tummy, maken sure that silly-minded pole dancer didn't drop her spawn.

"He's a healthy young bean," I told Dawn. She stared at her little boy, who grimaced like a roulette loser an' farted like a razorback boar. "Th' trumpets shall sound," I whispered in her ear.

"Is that...normal?" she asked, the tears carven channels down her drawn cheeks.

"Everything's normal about this kid, cher," I answered. "You done well by yoreself an' him. You carried it off."

Damned if Chazz didn't have his own rill a tears spillen out a his ratty eyes. He'd hopped up onto Dawn's breast an' was licken th' little rascal baby clean.

"You got a name for yore infant?" I asked quietly. My feelens for this pore girl was quickly softenen, like a slab a bacon fixed to a pickup truck's hood a muggy bayou day in August.

"I do, if you don't mind."

"Why hell should I mind what you name this boy?"

"Cause I aim to call him Chazz Ethel Poynton."

Goddamned waterworks busted open again an' this time I hid nothen, Sister Edith, Father Wayne, Nazi Klaus, Dandy an' th' Captain be damned. I was th' one what brought life forth, not these others, with Chazz's help, an' I figured that gave me power, an' with that power th' right to cry. First th' tears just slopped down my face, then I bawled, then I sobbed so hard th' twitchy cafe manager brought me a chair an' a soft and steamy towel an' a tall glass a sparkly water on ice with a twist a lime hangen from th' rim like a little green bat. My God but did my body shake! I aint never cried like that before or since, a good ten minutes I imagine, everybody but Chazz an' th' Captain keepen their distance, Chazz rubben his naked tail back an' forth across the inside a my arm while th' Captain played a tiny concertina tryen to amuse me. Finally I cleansed myself a what all I could only guess, an' th' sight a that dumb monkey squeezen out a tune, a fretful look a confusion wrinklen his face, made me laugh, not uproariously as you might if you caught yore uncle attempten congress with a sow, as I'd unfortunately once seen, th' amusen part not been th' actual maten, which weren't an uncommon swamp tableau, but th' foreplay, which I'd prefer not to describe. Damn them nightmares what never seem to go away! Uncle Bertrand tonguen a Yorkshire lady pig put me off my chow for a week.

Th' noisy flashen ambulance finally pulled up, along with a couple a black-an'-whites, all a which vehicles spit out a bunch a big-bellied men wearen cheap nylon uniforms what resembled Halloween costumes, except for th' imposen leather belts that was pinned between each man's gut an' fat ass, an' loaded down with pistols, radios, cuffs, mace cans an', for th' paramedics, scissors an' dressings an' shit. Sister Edith an' Father Wayne pointed th' ambulance men toward Dawn an' little baby boy Chazz Ethel, then nabbed th' cops an' spoke real quietly to them, occasionally shooten me glances an' waven her aborten hands in gestures I didn't trust.

"Time we slipped away," I whispered to my rat. "Sister likely has them NOLA cops in her pocket."

"Just wait," Chazz replied. I looked at him squarely in th' eye an' saw he was deadly serious. "Do what you got to do, then," I sighed, an' slumped in my chair an' draped that warm towel over my face. Good Lord but it were even scented a bit! The feelen was luxurious, what with th' towel been softer than th' old burlap sacks we used for cleanen up in th' swamp. Hell, it were th' softest damned thing I ever felt against my cheek since I woke up one night to find a buck possum had curled up on my head an' died while I slept.

"You Ethel Thibodeaux?" I heard a minute later. "Ethel Thibodeaux from Bayou Laborit?"

I peeled off my towel an' saw one a th' cops toweren over me, while Sister stood a step behind him an' smirked like Ol' Scratch hisself upon delivery of another busload a lost souls to Hell's one-way door. The setten sun had just dipped behind a big builden, the resulten darkness blenden together th' cop's facial features into one unpleasant shadow. Or maybe my cast a mind exaggerated this some, for his words actually possessed a kindly tone.

"That me," I said. "I just delivered this fine little boy, so I'm tuckered out."

"You did a good job, I'd say, judging from how loud that boy's squalling. Mother and child are headed to Charity Hospital and the Mama's Ward. And as for you, Ethel, how old did you say you were?"

"I don't believe I said," I answered. I caught Chazz out a th' corner of my eye sneaken behind Sister Edith. I nodded as if to th' cop, when I meant Chazz should go ahead with his plan. "I might be nineteen," I told th' officer.

"Missing person's bulletin says otherwise, Ethel. You were born April 23, 1962, so that makes you sixteen."

"I am what I am," I said. "I aint goen back to th' swamp, if that's where this is headed."

"That aint for me to determine," said the flatfoot. "Social Service folks will get involved. Your parents miss you and they're worried. They've been calling daily."

My face was cherry red, I'm sure, and my head felt like it were at th' bursten point. What hell they missed was all th' work I did around that freak show extravaganza they call a home. Plus they got state money for each a th' kids who lived under they roof. But I kept my cool an' tried to come up with some smart plan. "You figuren to give me a ride to th' station, aint you?" I finally asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Can I collect my stuff from Clap 'n' Clap first?"

"Why Sister Edith's already arranged for this." He held up a bag I'd not noticed all saggy an' rippen an' stuffed with my clothes an' books.

I swear that evil whoren abortress smiled broader than the biggest jack o'lantern ever. Such a look a victory I never had seen before in my life. She folded her serpenty arms across her chest an' raised her head so high above her shoulders it looked like a hot air balloon risen. And whoa, but I could see Chazz ready to bring Sister an' her floaten head back to earth, an' fast.

I played it cool with th' officer, distracten him from Sister so Chazz could pounce. "What's that builden over there?" I asked.

He turned an' narrowed his eyes. "That building? It appears to be a residence. Apartments above an office that's shuttered. Why?"

"I like it," I said. I like them balconies."

"Yes, cher, I like them, too," he said. He were a kind man, I could tell. Lucky me. "I reckon Bayou Laborit's not got any places like that."

"No sir."

"You glad to be here in the Crescent City, Ethel?"

"It's different," I said. "I dont know it's th' place for me, but th' swamp's already lost its hold, an' I aint goen back there."

The cop tilted his big face down toward me an' I could just make out th' sadness in his eyes, like scabs had formed to protect them from all a sorrow's shit he must a seen durren th' course a his work. I smiled at him out a appreciation for his gentle ways, which are all too rare in this world. So when Chazz made his move for Sister, he did so at a peaceful moment, which though it lasted no longer than a struck match burns, has stayed with me all these years, haven an anodyne effect, borrowing one a Mr. Saul Bellow's words this time.

I reckon if you was to gargle a pint a Tabasco sauce into which you'd mixed the blenderized hinder parts that was freshly cut from a civet cat, you might let slip a shriek like Sister emitted, but I doubt it. The sound was one of anger an' hatred an' fear all tumbled together an' blasted from a loudspeaker. Cop jumped, I jumped, th' other girls froze, one even fainted, Dandy tipped his chair over, Captain Crocker ran up a tree an' clung to its top branches, Nazi Klaus shit his britches, Father Wayne ran off, th' friendly cafe owner dashed into his establishment an' closed an' locked th' doors. Lord th' sound!

Nice cop an' I spun around together an' saw th' fight for th' ages. Chazz was plastered across Sister's face, his claws dug in, her swatten hands eager to knock him to th' ground. She'd managed to snag his long tail an' was tuggen hard, but that rat was powerful strong an' crept higher an' higher toward her pile a hair. "No! No! No!" Sister yelled, for I believe she figured out what Chazz was up to. "Is that a cat?" th' cop said to himself. "No, he's a big rat but Sister's a bigger one. Keep your gun holstered an' watch." Course I didn't expect him to do this but that in fact is what happened, he seemed so astonished at th' spectacle, which is sayen a lot for a NOLA policeman. But his partner weren't so shocked, for he whipped out his riot baton an' charged the combatants. What he thought he could do I had no idea, as hitten Chazz would only mean he'd hit Sister, too. But I didn't take any chances an' tried to overtake that cop, hopen to insert myself between his deadly club an' my dear rat. I'd rather taken one on th' head than let him hurt Chazz, I tell you, but it turned out I didn't have to worry none, as my good boy slipped free from Sister an' disappeared into her beehive hair. More screamen from Madam Edith, as she pounded her gourd so hard I half thought she'd knock out one a her eyes an' freak out th' girls even more than they was now.

The chargen police was upon Sister an' reachen his hand blindly into her pillar a hair when he slammed on th' brakes an' gasped. I flanked him with teeth clenched an' ready for action for if he tried to pound my rat, who emerged from Sister's coif with a fetus in his mouth, a little molderen thing about th' size of a bull sunfish, its face splitten in half from th' rot that swole it, but clearly recognizable as an unborn baby maybe five months along. All th' girls looked shocked, th' good cop now by my side an' mutteren "Fuck me, Jesus," th' Captain leapen into Dandy's arms, who for once comforted his monkey, who for once didn't say no smart ass comment. I noticed Father Wayne sneaken away, or attempten to, a third NOLA police wisely perceiven th' need to collar this crook an' nudgen him back toward the cruiser. Chazz lifted his head up an' waggled it so as all got a right an' proper look at th' fetus before droppen it to th' sidewalk. He withdrew into her hairhive for a half a minute an' came back with a second baby, this one a tad smaller an' even more decomposed, it was all ballooned up with gas like some Portuguese Man o' War an' bore a terrible grin on its spread-out putrefyen face. Sister opened her mouth to speak but was truly dumbstruck, worken her jaws silently like a catfish on a stringer. Th' good cop had recovered his composure enough he called in for th' crime lab folks to come. Then he went to his cruiser an' opened his trunk to retrieve a roll a yellow police tape. Chazz clambered down Sister an' lay th' second fetus parallel to th' first, same as you would a pair a slippers by yore bed. Sister stared at me while holden her hands in front a her for a cop to cuff her. "I aint through with you, Ethel," she said clearly. "Nor your rat."

Chazz had run back to me an' I chose not to respond to Edith. I picked up my bag a belongens from th' walk, meager though they was, an' sidled away from th' crowd. I doubted the lawmen needed any statements from me to convict Sister an' Father a any number a felonies. Then there was th' matter a me getten shipped back to Bayou Laborit an' th' clan a carnival sideshow rejects I was obliged to call my family. Th' choice to move on was no choice, though where I should go was an unknown. As it were getten darkish out I had no trouble slippen off into th' gatheren murk, Chazz riden shotgun on my shoulder. I decided I'd take a last gander at St. Louis Cathedral, and especially th' creche, which I had not seen yet, Chazz neither. I felt a burden shiften as we strolled away from th' spectacle. Th' crowd a rubber-necked tourists parted when they saw me amblen toward them with my big rat perched by my ear, an' I felt a little like Moses dividen th' Red Sea in two so his draggedy-ass flock a Jews could escape as easy as if they was walken down Canal Street. I wished I had me th' same power to split th' Big River straight down its beam. Not over wide, mind, but like a simple path three foot across, extenden from New Orleans itself all th' way up to Lake Itasca, which I learned from Mr. Mark Twain was th' simple starten point a this great river. An' hell's foul breath an' smoky aspect couldn't stop me from hiken this track were both to bear down on me like some tornado a stink an' soot sent by Lucifer Hisself, most likely on request from his disciples, my kinfolks, with th' intent that th' cyclone would suck me up an' return me to th' swamp, droppen me down in time for me to chop wood an' peel taters an' slice onions an' peppers an' skin an' gut a coon for th' evenen stew, while my Daddy's friend Jackie Dupree drank whisky from a jam jar an' tried to hide th' bald an' shiny boner he'd sprout whenever he visited an' flashed me a randy smile, th' many holes in his filthy overalls concealen nothen, his pink poken organ poppen its little cowled head out like some horny monk checken out th' acolytes. I almost wished Old Scratch would come after me, I felt so powerful of a sudden, for I now had a goal beyond mere escape, a journey I knew I needed to make, one that would honor my hero, Mr. Mark Twain, an' take me far from where I'd been all my life, away from th' gators an' nutria an' slitheren snakes an' inbred cretins an' dark bayous an' Clap 'n' Clap an' Sister an' Father an' th' knocked up pole dancers an' hookers whose young lives I knew had already crested.

We reached Jackson Square an' eyeballed the big white church across th' street, an' I realized I aint been in it an' regretted it some, not that I were religious, exactly, but not that I really weren't, either. Mainly I was curious about why folks made such a big deal out a old stories beyond what fun it were to hear an' tell them. As if them good tales weren't enough in an' of theyselves. "You believe in God, Chazz?" I asked my pal.

"No."

"Rats aint got th' spirit?"

"Rats are rats. That enough for us."

"Damn smart way to live, too. Why, is that th' creche?"

I were looken at a few straw bales clumped around a little open shack about a coffin's length wide an' tall. An upturned crate some jackass had smashed already was perched in th' center an' seemed likely to represent somebody's bad joke idea for a manger for th' Christ child. Even worse: loops a human shit rested where th' baby would lay, an' busted wine jugs littered th' space around it. Bums had slept there.

"I guess we aint missen much missen out on this show. Do me a favor, will you?"

"Anything, Ethel."

"Let me cradle you like a baby."

"Okay."

I ducked inside th' stable an' took pains not to cut myself on th' glass or smear th' crap all over my one pair a shoes. Half a bale served me as a chair a sorts, so I set down on it an rocked Chazz in my arms. He smiled at me an' damned if my throat didn't choke up like I'd got an underripe persimmon lodged there. But I blinked back tears as I didn't like to cry more than once a day. I tried to think a some Christmas song I might just want to hum, but none came to mind. I could feel Chazz go a little limp, an' soon that rat commenced to snorren. I wanted to kiss his pink snout but didn't for fear a waken him. Outside th' stable th' night took over th' square. A man blowen his saxophone for passing change entertained me off in th' distance. I'd heard an' met him before when I slept in th' park, an' once bought him a bag a day-old beignets. Tonight he weren't visible, an' I liked that, th' sound risen up as if from th' earth's insides. Other people wandered past me but nobody stopped. Probably th' stink kept them away. But I wanted to be alone with my rat an' my thoughts, so th' smell was welcome in its effects. Silk purse from a sow's ear, you might say.

"Upriver," I whispered to myself. I felt a deep peace settlen over me. I now had a destination, an' maybe it was my destiny, too. I'd head upriver, by an' by, but not till my rat was rested.