It was Saturday afternoon, and impromptu hysteria seemed to have broken out down at the French Market. There was shouting and chanting, and the crowd seemed to be calling for someone’s head. As someone new to this otherwise peaceful burg, I was quite alarmed and decided to check it out.
So I made my way down to the docks, my trusty camera secreted away, and I saw a crowd outside the notorious Severed Head pub, raising signs that bore frightening phrases like “We Want Head!” and “Screaming Head 4 Ever!”
I found the proprietress of this establishment, Miss Salome Starsmith, and asked her what the commotion was about.
Handing me a skull lollipop, Miss Starsmith began, “It’s an impromptu rally for the screaming head of John Merrick. He’s the pub’s mascot and was removed at the request of a former neighbor.” 
My fear and confusion elevated, I pressed for more details.
“The pub’s name is a play on the dark deed of my biblical namesake, but it’s a different John, whose head has become famous here, and our loyal neighbors are demanding its return,” the alliterative Starsmith explained, sipping from a shrunken head.
My anxiety and befuddlement was now replaced by curiosity, so I stuck around, snapped some shots, and learned more about the history of the Head and the demand for this disembodied mascot.
Opened last winter, the luridly decorated pub, which smells of the old teak dampness from the appropriated pirate furnishings, has become a cult favorite among the nocturnal crowd. Upon entering, one can hear the buzz and snap of the tawdry lighting and is treated to a small exhibition of reminders of that ancient Salome, as well as remnants of the current Salome’s circus-performing past. She was once the tattooed “Odalisque” in a burlesque sideshow.
After a freakish trapeze accident, Miss Starsmith found herself washed up in New Toulouse and in need of something to do. An expert gambler, Starsmith put her winnings to work and opened the Severed Head, but she always felt it was missing something vital.
One night, Miss Starsmith heard of a head someone was hoarding in an attic. Challenging its owner to a rapid-fire game of hopscotch, Starsmith came out victorious and took her prize home. However, it wasn’t until she unwrapped it the next morning that she realized it was the head of John Merrick, the famed Elephant Man.
Due to some advanced Mary Shelley science, the head is still alive, and folks can hear him yelling his famous line down by the docks: “I am not an animal! I am a human being!” Absolutely chilling!
When the chanting reached a crescendo, Miss Starsmith dropped the tarp à la P. T. Barnum, revealing the coveted head. Cheers were heard around the docks, drinks were served, and the celebration continued well into the night. The crowd is a friendly and welcoming one, despite the pub’s dubious motto, “Our beer is as cold and dark as our hearts!”
Visit the Severed Head in the French Market, and hear the head for yourself.
Ulva Gloom is the owner of Galerie Diabolik and has returned to New Toulouse with her beloved dog Baron Samedi after a long hiatus. Contact her if you’re interested in exhibiting your original work there. (Or just stop by the gallery, where you can see a naughty portrait of Salome in her circus heyday.)