... In Which Fleetwhite Brings Together That Which No Man Can Tear Asunder ...
Many of the Wedding Ceremonies I perform here at the French Quarter Wedding Chapel are, even by New Orleans standards, a bit Unconventional.
But every year as we get on towards Halloween, all Bets are Off. But even I was a bit taken aback by the most recent of these. You didn't know that New Orleans burned. Then you Lit a Candle and you Lived and you Learned.
The Participants were an Elderly Woman and a 23-year-old Goth Chick who, it seems, had met in the Bi-Sexual Goth Sluts Chatroom on Nola.com. They wanted to be United in front of the Delphine Lalaurie House at 1140 Royal Street, said to be the Most Haunted House in New Orleans (which is saying something, but don't believe it).
THIS little Dog & Pony Show was something in between a Commitment Ceremony, a Hand Fasting, and a Fucked-up Voodoo Ritual. They'd put the requisite feel of $99 on the Old Broad's Visa, and there we were, with a small crowd of Onlookers on Heroin, and the young Goth Slut asked me if we were allowed to add a wee bit of Bloodletting to the Festivities.
Well, shit. Normally we do a finger prick or something, but the bitch had a Swiss Army knife out and started working on the Old Broad's left arm with it and draining the blood into an Aluminum Chalice. She was working on her OWN arm, too, and they got fucking blood all over my three-piece Reverend suit.
Then they were bathing each other in it. They were chugging it like some frat boy playing Quarters at a bar on Bourbon Street. They were X'd out of their minds. They were In Love.
Hell, at least in a Cosmic sense it's better than all the Acts of Polygamy I've performed. I guess I already told you how you can get married or whatever in a single day here, FUCK Vegas. Tell 'em at the Records Office (which is smaller than my bathroom) that you've never been married before and they won't ask questions. Neither will I, and you get the Judge to give you a Waiver and I'll Marry Your Ass, and if you want to drink each other's Blood while we're at it, well, who gives a fuck.
Wanna get married here in a single day, No Questions Asked? Google has our Website. Look into it. Call my Cell Phone.
Then I take my Couples aside and I say, I'm gonna tell you Something your Mother wouldn't: Marriage is a Heap of Cockshit, the entire IDEA of it, ESPECIALLY in New Orleans. You just got married HERE, you're off to a Bad Start and you'll be divorced soon, but it was a Pleasure to Pretend it'd be forever, hey? I'm just happy to make an easy hundred bucks.
And then I go ahead and tell 'em that since Sooner or Later this Service I just performed will be a Sham, whatcha say we just go ahead and Make the Most of it? I have, on my payroll, this young hustler dude known as The Designated Fucker who dresses in tight white T-shirts and looks like Brando in Streetcar, and for an extra $50 I'll break out the goddamn Gimp and he'll do one of them, or $75 for Both.
Then I tell them about the Mississippi River's Pussy. Wow, GREAT, just a TERRIFIC idea Fenton had on that one! I took his Idea and didn't give him any credit of any kind of Cut for it in return for my not beating his back hind-cunt for Contributing to the Near-Fatal Rupture of one of my Hoors, but these tourists get REALLY into it, and it's SO beautiful to see a Couple so much in Love it almost makes me Cry when I see them stick their Tongues into the River's Pussy.
And this Female Couple I was Hand Fasting or Fisting or whateverthefuck I was doing, they'd actually ASKED me could they do it. Paid me in cash. We went down to the River and they took turns tongue-reaming its Pussy for like HOURS. Took up three whole reels of Hi-8 film and lots and lots of Ilford B & W still photos. The whole thing landed me $550. Under the table. Tax free.
Now the story behind that Delphine Lalaurie house, that's sure some SHIT, isn't it? And I'd just learned of the Untimely Death of Frankie Minot.
And about All of the Above, I COULD NOT GIVE TWO FUCKS IN HELL LESS. You wanna Drink Blood, Eat out the River, Drink yourself to Death? I'm all for it, pal.
Take your Pleasure, or FUCK YOU. And All Hallow's Eve was quick Upon us.
See, I'm just out for One Thing in this putrid world anymore, and that Thing is Raphael Fleetwhite, and I'd just Made some Money being him, so you can suck my Roger.
I'd thought about buying a Mask for Halloween, but then I realized my own face had turned into it anyway. And the days were getting shorter. The nights were getting longer. There was a strange smell wafting on the cooling autumn breeze, and I just couldn't place its source.