Trolley Trollop here and on assignment in the Gloryville district, New Toulouse, after a confidential source whispered a tip in her ear when Trolley was busy dancing, catching her some beads, and having more fun than a preacher at a tent revival during Saturday’s Krewe Bayou parade.
Well, weekend’s over and Trolley’s back in New Toulouse, hot on the trail of what may be the Story of the Decade. Trolley even got herself a room in Gloryville down on Basin Street, right across from the cemetery, so she can work the story up good and stick her nose into everybody’s business. Rent costing her all her lunch and pocket money, but that’s all right. People’s got a right to know the Truth, and Trolley’s aiming to sniff it out faster than a hog digs up one of them truffles her Sister Cousin who lives in France is always raving about.
But Trolley’s getting off track. You folks know all about France, seeing how this is LousyAnna (that’s how we sound it out where I comes from in South Alabama). Trolley’s source—and don’t you even try to get her to cough up his name, ’cause Trolley go to jail before she reveal a source. Miss Peggy Hull wouldn’t do it, and neither will Trolley—told her that there are tunnels under this place. Tunnels! Imagine that, in a part of the world where the water table is up to your neck after a rain and you got to bury the dead six feet over the ground so they don’t float up and scare the horses.
Anyway, long time ago it seems there was trouble with those tunnels. That’s the mystery Trolley’s investigating, ’cause nobody’s talking and they just glaze over when Trolley even mentions the word. Mighty suspicious behavior on the part of some folks, ain’t it?
But don’t take my word for it; here’s what Deep Tonsils told Trolley. You read it over, and then you pass on anything you know to Trolley. She’ll be mighty obliged and might even send you some hot biscuits and tupelo honey to say thank you kindly. Trolley gots to solve this mystery, make Mama proud! So you listen up and read the word-for-word, unexpurgated, and gospel-Truth transcript of what Deep Tonsils told Trolley.
Deep Tonsils: Well, there were a lot of people working on those tunnels, and there was a cave-in one night, Trolley … you know what that is, don’t you?
TrolleyTrollop: Like when the earth moved at Sister Cousin’s place?
DT: Well, yes … but there was a guy trapped down there in the rubble.
TT: Oh! Did they get him out? Or did he pass and now he’s a haint? Oh my god—the gators didn’t get him, did they?
DT: Nobody knows, Trolley. He is a memory, to some at least, but every thirty years, a woman goes missing … a young woman. Some might say it is him, choosing a bride, till she becomes too old, and then he chooses another one. But of course, what do I know?
Now, ain’t that jest about the most exciting thing you read in a month of Mondays? You got any information at all, you send it along to Trolley, and she’ll jump on it! Slip it under the door of my place here at #3 Basin Street, or send me one of them notecards. We got a story to break!
Respectfully, as befitting a member of the 4th Estate,
Trolley Trollop
TrolleyTrollop is her Sister Cousin’s (SisterButta) poor relation from south Alabama making her way in SL as a journalist. She ain’t got no portfolio, but she’s got a picture of Miss Peggy Hull on her wall, so you know she’s serious!