by
Charles McCarthy
The road ahead became the road behind as the white trash Florida inland swamps gave way to southern Alabama and beyond all the while seeing Steve muttering to himself, trying to come to terms with his paranormal sexual experience.
Anna and Jack lounged in the back seat watching the countryside slide by. Anna daydreamed about monkeys and all the amazing things they could do these days, forgetting about her troubles and her quest to find her own murderer, for a little while at least.
The hours past, and they soon found themselves entering the dirty streets of a city that no amount of rain or flood could wash clean, New Orleans. Steve seemed to know the city well and drove for the French Quarter like an iron filing drawn to a magnet, parking the car and heading into a bar famous for its hand grenades, hurricanes, and herpes, The Scarlet Pimp 'r' Nail.
"Where's he goin?" Anna asked.
"I think you shook him up like the drinks of the gods on the edge of the world of reason. I think you shook him up like an earthquake of the soul and the soul of the shoe of our earth is you," Jack replied, making no sense to Anna.
"I gotta go. I need to figure out who killed me, an you aren't helpin."
"Fair is fair and far away in this realm with fate at the helm," Jack answered back.
Anna got out of the car. She walked off down the streets of the French Quarter feeling a sense of power, feeling the tingling in her belly grow for no reason that she could figure. She ran her hands over the bricks of the buildings she passed, and the feeling became stronger. It was as if this whole area was drenched in sexual energy.
"Wooooohooo!"
Anna turned to the sound of the redneck mating call just in time to see a middle aged, overweight woman with blonde-orange hair and jet black roots in a "Big Johnson" t-shirt lifting her shirt to show off her flap-jack breasts to a group of teenage boys.
"The Big Easy, that's what they call it," came a whisper in her ear.
Anna turned around quickly to find a tall black man. He was muscular but stringy and his lack of clothes and giant chocolatey po' boy, told Anna right way that he was a ghost too, or he was a crazy person, and he wasn't actually talking to her.
"Yeah?" she responded, hoping that he would be able to hear her, and that he wasn't just a crazy person.
"The Big Easy, that's what it is. That's why they call it that," he responded.
"Oh yeah? Whatta they call you The Big Hard?"
He laughed deeply and ran his hand over her shoulder.
"There would be no subtlety in that name would there be?" he laughed.
"Hell no!"
As if in a trance, Anna fell to her knees, grabbed his fleshy night stick, and began to kiss and lick it like a giant candy bar. She worked her way up and down its length until his "old faithful" was faithful, and he lifted her to her feet drenched in his milk and honey.
"Thank you ever so much my little flower."
"I couldn't help myself," she replied.
"I know. Your energy is very strong. What brings you here."
"I'm tryin to get to Cali-forni-uh to find the Master, so he can teach me about my powers, so I can find out who killed me, cause I was killed."
"Fair enough," he laughed, "Have you learned how to fly yet?"
"No! Dang, I was wishin I could fly just a little while ago."
"You have all you need right now. First, you must drench yourself in a man's manly liquids. Second, you must think sexy thoughts. Third, you must say 'I can fly' four times," he told her patiently.
"Dang. That's all?"
"Yes."
"I can fly. I can fly. I can Fly. I CAN FLY!" Anna exclaimed as her feet left the ground and she began to float up and over the buildings.
"Good luck!" he shouted from below.
"Wooooohooo!" Anna screamed as she soared over the city, turning and heading for the setting sun, "Cali-forni-uh here I come!"
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