Just another Fever Dream

Anybody Know A Reliable Arsonist???

Since it rained last night and the sun is up demanding attention due to it’s recent absence, outside feels as humid and uncomfortable as being trapped under a seaweed wrap with Lindsay Graham. The spa attendant has left the room and Daddy Graham will not stop talking about his debutante cotillion from 1997.

Maybe I’m still asleep after the weird ass night I just had.

It started out quiet and typically June-like. Rain off and on, mostly off, but always a threat, then around 6 or so everyone started to show up. In a matter of about 15 minutes we were almost full in spite of the sprinkles.

Next to the register was a quintet of very sweet people including an adorable little boy that his papaw didn’t even freak out when I called him a her. (Does it REALLY matter before they’re in school?)

Suddenly, as I’m taking an order, I hear a woman saying : “Can we get some help here?” When I rounded the desk, I saw that there had been an “incident” where there was a sort of………projectiled puddle on the floor and in the seat of where the boy was and the papaw was guiding him back to the bathroom. Everyone remained pretty nonplussed as the busser and I attacked and removed the offending pools with towels and mops. The guests at the table didn’t seem bothered, and the neighboring customers hadn’t even noticed, so I figured, “fire’s out” and nodded to them all as I headed back towards the door.

When I got there, a familiar group of 5, wanted a table, and of course one of them was in some sort of bee keeper, fencing uniform, haute couture like, face covering that I was taken aback by only momentarily because she also had her constantly present emotional support poodle the size of a clydesdale and a quilt for it to rest on under her arm.

Instead of only 1 person coming in, the entire party felt the need to crowd the door and make the woman in the wheelchair navigate around them which meant her front foot rest slammed into the toggle bolted door on the left front of the exit. Fortunately I had a table just getting up that would hold said musketeer and dog easily enough so I was able to persuade them to wait outside for a couple of minutes to ready the space. “Another doused flame.” I thought.

But then the phone rang; “Hey….this is Heddy around the corner and I need…”

“You need to wait, is what you need……” I said heading up to the POS.

She obediently went silent to my great surprise.

“Ok, tell me.” I said pulling up the necessary screen.

“I need one of those pies with everything on it and I need ……”she started.

“What size? “ I asked.

“Like maybe…wings or fries?” she answered.

“Size darling….not sides, you have ordered from us for years have you EVER got fries?”

“Oh….large, and I need that pasta with the sauce and the shrimp.” she continued.

“We need to narrow that down Heddy….. I got a bunch of pasta and a lot of them have shrimp.” I rolled my eyes and mumbled “What the fuck???”

“Any one, I don’t care I just need you to bring it over to me, you know where I live.” She said.

“We haven’t delivered since covid.” I said

“I’m right around the corner, just bring it to me. And…..DO NOT CALL THE POLICE.” she said hanging up.

“Sweet baby Jesus, this crazy ass bitch.” I exhaled hanging up myself.

I have come to realize that I am such a sucker for a good story, especially on a night where weird shit keeps coming at you by the boxcar, that I knew I would have to bring this woman her order. Why would I call the police? Why would she THINK I would call the police? I had to know….

Heddy lives around the corner in a high toned painted brick collection of condos with pricey mortgages and a modern security system. When I get there I can see her pacing around in front, the courtyard fountain trickling for effect, her teacup Pomeranian scampering playfully when it sees me through the gate.

“You’ve got to bring it back to my apartment, I cannot hold onto anything right now, I don’t want to be responsible for scalding Wumples.” she points to the dog.

“I don’t really have the time……”I start as she turns and starts walking, If I want to be paid, I guess I will follow.” I think.

She pushes open the glass door, her atonal palette shows upscale taste and an eye for quality.

“I can’t stay, it’s Friday night.” I say putting down the order on her counter.

“You have to help me. You are the ONLY one who believes me.” she says calmly.

I want to tell her that I don’t know if that’s true, but she’s not really concerned about me.

“You cannot call the fire department or the police. The last time I went to them, they tried to kill me with their drugs, you are the only one who can help me. Do you know Cornell, my ex husband?

My mouth is uncharacteristically agape as I stare, unable to speak.

“He’s trying to kill me. Lives up on Dumaine in a condo I bought for him? Takes a year to get a divorce in New York, but I can do it in 6 months here and I don’t need any documentation but they won’t give me a restraining order because I am not wearing a sling. When I said: ‘This is not a battered women’s shelter’ they insisted that I take a tablet. You know my good friend the attorney Margo Dupres? When I told her that they said Cornell has frontal dementia she says to me: ‘That’s what they’re calling assholes now?’”

“I have to go Heddy, it’s Friday, there’s already been puke…..”

“He has called Sondiac. The company I worked for producing movies? He has control of my pension, they have given him rights over my finances. No one wants to deal with this shit. “

“I don’t think I can blame them.” I say, realizing that I have her credit card information back at the restaurant from the last time she called and wanted to pay over the phone so I do not need to be a part of this any more. Yeah crazy is sad and scary, but so is anxious hungry drunk tourists at the front door.

“Here, call Jasper Parsons.” she’s handing me the phone that I can see is connecting to a call. “Ask him to take me to a hotel where I can stay.”

Holding the cell phone to my ear, a frail shaky voice asks: “Hello……who’s calling?”

“Is this Jasper?” I ask, hardly believing this is happening.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“I’m calling for Heddy who is asking me to ask you to come over here and take her to a hotel tonight .” I wince.

“I just got out of surgery, I’m recuperating at home. I mean….I don’t….” his voice trails off as I hang up the phone. “He can’t come and I can’t stay Heddy, I have to go.”

“Take me to the Windsor Court.” she straightens her back and looks defiant as if she just this moment decided how to deal.

“You want to go to the most expensive hotel in town to hide from your ex husband who has your pension and your condo? “ I ask in hopes of clarity.

“I do.”

“I’ll go get my car.” I say backing out. “You go pack your bag and I’ll be back in a few.” I pull her door closed and scamper outside. I can see her watching me, relieved that she’s about to be delivered from this hell.

It being New Orleans and me being at this restaurant for over 20 years , I know a few people, So I decide to call someone I know who has connections at the NOPD switchboard for emergency calls and explain the situation.

“Of course we know Heddy, I’ll send some one in a few, doesn’t sound like she’s a threat to herself or anybody else.” He says.

As I trot back to the restaurant I think to myself. “It’s kinda like Twin Peaks, but everybody’s on acid.

By the time I get there, there’s surprisingly only one regular couple at the door waiting to be seated.

“We were worried when we didn’t see you.” she said smiling sweetly.

“I don’t have the skill set to be anywhere else.” I say laughing as I point them in the direction of a clean table.

Vitals: Rain, sometimes heavy, neutral ground parking allowed until 7PM tonight, no thunder so no canine anxiety, but the 85 degree temperature with the intermittent showers makes it feel like you just rode home from the pool with the car windows down………delighful…..

5 days down

178 to go…….