New Toulouse

The freak weather conditions that hit New Toulouse last Sunday left most people unscathed. One citizen, however, is still counting the cost. Miss Frannie of the Green-Eyed Fairy had to cancel her swamp stomp with DJ Tabasco. “I’ve had to replace all my stock,” she told me. This reporter probed further and found that the losses were caused not by the weather, but instead by the owner drinking herself into a stupor to ease the pain she felt.

Luckily Taloosters are made of stern stuff, and the event is on again this Sunday between 12:00 noon and 2:00 PM. Miss Frannie was reminded that she is captain of Krewe Bayou, although she told me she has no recollection of being appointed or volunteering. It was decided to make the postponed event a Krewe Bayou Carnival kick-off event. Mardi Gras colors and mayhem are encouraged.

The Green-Eyed Fairy is located at #2 Bayou Street.

Lou Carew loves his Mardi Gras krewe.

Dear Madam,

As I was wandering pensively through the cemetery, waiting for the moon to rise, I heard distant sounds of revelry. On the rooftops above Basin Street I beheld a motley, masked crew. They were dancing to the most marvelous Cajun music, provided by a gentleman I later learned was called DJ Tabasco.

Sadly I was called to Bayou on pressing business so could not join the revelers, but there is another chance to enjoy the fun, as Krewe Bayou asked Mr. Tabasco back for a repeat performance: this time at the Green-Eyed Fairy. I spoke to Miss Frannie, who runs this establishment, and she said, “We’ll be getting hot, saucy, and green at the Green-Eyed Fairy with DJ Tabasco on Sunday, 25 January 2015 at 12.00 noon, and we’ll party like it’s 1915!”

She then added, most cryptically, “Be there or be ketchup!”

Regrettably I shall again be absent on business, but I urge my fellow-citzens not to miss the party.

Yours, etc.
Lou Carew

This morning I woke up to a piece of paper hitting me in the face. I’m still staying at the rooftop hotel, so I suppose that is not the worst thing that could have hit me. Groggily I peered at the page: it was a handbill advertising a maybe-party this Sunday, hosted by Krewe Bayou.

Last year around this time, I asked the shadowy figure calling herself Queen Notakraken how a person might join the krewe, if he were so inclined. You are already in Krewe Bayou, she told me. Everyone is in Krewe Bayou, whether they know it or not.

You would think that as a member of the krewe, I would have heard about this party earlier, or whether we’ll parade, or what. You would think that, and you would be wrong.

So all I have to go on are whispers, and this poster, and what looks to be party decorations on the roof next door. They say that Ghosty Kips had to cancel on spinning the platters because of a family matter, and that the mysterious “DJ Tabasco” stepped in handily to save the day with his collection of Cajun, zydeco, and swamp pop recordings. (They don’t say what “swamp pop” is, but I don’t think it has anything to do with Okra-Cola.) They say that there will be plenty of beer, which will come in handy in case of fire. They murmur of a trivia contest with “fabulous prizes.” And I overheard a rumor to the effect that “everyone gets a baby kraken friend.”

Now you know everything I do.

Jack Mondieu, Ace Reporter, is often perplexed.