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July 31, 2007


Today's theme is "walking to new orleans," like the song.

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Jim: All Roads Lead To The Gator, Part Deux

Its plank walls showing more mold than paint, the Gator Saloon jutted like a rotten tooth between the bayou and a two-lane road paved with white and nacre crushed oyster shells.

Mrs. Thibodeaux stormed into the Gator, lugging a heavy suitcase. “Andre!” she yelled at her husband. “I’m leavin’!”

Andre turned on the barstool. “Ga lee, Beb,” he said in thick Cajun. “Whar you go?”

“Nyawlins,” she sneered. “Walkin’ if I gotta.”

“Whar for?”

“I heard you a ped-o-phile!”

Andre’s eyes widened. “Ooo-eee!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “That thar’s a big ol’ word coming from a thirteen year ol’.”

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Michele: It Went South

I walked away from her confession.

She came clean.

I felt dirty.

I walked, tried to clear my head. Maybe if I had a better, job, a better car, a nicer house. Maybe.

Maybe it wasn't my fault.

She pulled up next to me.

"Where you going?"
"Walking to New Orleans." She knew what i meant.

She followed me to the bar and sat idling in the parking lot for a bit.

I left New Orleans at three. She was sitting on my porch.

I walked past her, shut the door in her face and began the process of forgetting.

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David: la-DAH de-dah, la-DAH de-DAH DAH, de dah...

“Bruce!” she called out as she ran out of the diner. “Where are you going?”

He reluctantly turned to face her. “I can’t stay here. Not after what happened.”

“You can!” she insisted. “Now that the Yakuza have been stopped from taking over my property, you’ll be safe.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t risk it.”

She approached and took his hand in hers. “Explain it to me.”

“That… thing will be on the news. I can’t be here when reporters start showing up.”

“Where will you go?”

“Better you don’t know.” Bruce turned away and started walking down the roadside.

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Ted: Two Hundred Years After

The War of New Orleans lasted for sixteen years. None of the four factions fighting really wanted to do anything drastic to end the war because it would conjure up three hundred year old ghosts of Katrina.

The Texan Hegemony finally ended the stalemate with a forced march of over a million zapatos over the levees, drawing the defending Canadian forces off towards the Monument while the New Rangers did an end run into the Quarter.

The remaining Confederates as well as the Golden Californian Guarderas retreated the following dawn.

Once New Orleans fell, Earth finally belonged to Mankind again.

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From The Comments: Misch

The six-shooters are hot and heavy, weighing me down by the hips.

There's a stone in my boot that I can't find, no matter how many times I stop to get it out. It's pressing into the fleshy part of my foot where the muscles meet, on its way to my instep.

A strangled cry from above reminds me that the buzzards have been circling for two days. Besides me they're the only movement under the big dome of sky. Soon it'll just be them and their cowboy al fresco.

That's the last time I trust travelling horse salesmen.

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