Lucifer's gay brother Luscious

The Devil's Hour

Lucifer's P.O.V

  Between the hours of 12:00Am & 3:00Am. I find myself strolling the piss stained streets of the Vieux Carré. Surrounded by the decaying wood held within the wall of the Spaniard cast Iron shell. Which remain left from the French colonial buildings.
   Ignoring the imposing flash backs left from the forty year tenure under Spain. Taking a look around. There isn't much left from the conflagrations in 1794.
  Straying from the infected lavish Royal Streets, into the slums. Steering away from all the drunken comoshion from the tourists. Lured in by the aroma of Crawfish Gumbo, made by the locals.
  As the years roll on fewer & fewer Creoles remain. Stealing away the the rich authenticity of the drowning city.
   As jazz rings through out the night. I make my way through Saint Louis Cemetery. Carefully making my way through the opening of the tall frall fence, past two trees jingling with numerous collored bottled. 

  Oh how the silly myths the surround the supernatural make me laugh.

  Greeted at the door with the grand smell of Soft Shell Crab Po-boys. Right down, dang near the end of the shotgun hallway. None other than my little old lady Ms. Laveav pops her head out of the very kitchen her entire family has spent generations in.
  Bring me back to memories to her great great great grandma madam Marie Catherine Laueav.  I used to watch the legendary Marie Laveav right on St. John Evere.  Now she was a force to be reckoned with. The very Voodoo Queen herself.
  Snapping me out of thoughts Ms.Laveav shrill voice calls out with her thick mangled Brooklyn-esque  accent and a slight southern draw.

"You wanna a lil lagniappe po-boys for your troubles, little lucii?" Giving me the mile long glare.

  Honestly if I didn't know the old women any better I would think she was about to pop a hole in my behind.
  Adjusting my tie right properly, I make my way through the dimmly lit shack.  It truly makes me sad to think they once lived in a snugg proper home on St.Ann between Rampart & Burgendy street. Now in a tin roof shack right off the edge of the the very city known as the City that Care Forgot. Which has melancholy forgotten the Queen of their gentle city and her descendents. 
  I offer my young friend a gentle, kind smile.  At which she slaps me upside the head with the palm of her stubby little hand.  Earning her a rightful grimace.

  Running my head scalp profoundly.  I ask almost in gruff voice.  "Excuse my language. What in the actual Hell. Was that for?"

   Raising her hand again, preparing to scorn me. "Now you watch your mouth! Idontcare who you maybe down there. You are still a guest in me house. I will not hear of you using such vulgar language!" She basically growls. Not so much as answering my question.

  Squinting my eyes at her, clenching my jaw. I tell her what she expected to hear.  "Yes ma'am".

  Grinning her almost toothless smile, in triumph. Tapping her wooden spoon in the air. One hand on her hip turning around looking for something in particular.  I swear the women is losing her marbles.
  Her hair becoming as white as her many greats mema. Her worn down dirt stained sun dress. With was once a white ribbon.  Around where a proper southern women's waist should be. These tan flats rejecting her overfiling feet.
  It's such a shame her family legacy ends here with her. She always strongly believed she never needed a man. After her peice of scum father ran out on her and mother. 
  Just as fierce as every women before her. I have no doubts she had the potential and holds the same power her previous ancestor did. She never bothered to tap into it.  Her Granny would be ashamed.  Not carrying on their rich African heritage.

  Catching me off guard ripping at my earlobe. Dragging it down to here fine lined lips. "Now boy, I know you aren't giving me a look of pity"

  Scrambling to ease the pain in my ear. I back up and stand a little straighter, hoping to prevent her from grabbing at my ear again. This women truly is fearless.

  Giving her more serious look she had seen coming.  She straightens up as much as her little old body will allow her. Pulling down my jacket. "Ms.Laveav, you know why I am here".