Haibun: March 6, 1984

For Amaya’s prompt at dVerse, Mardis Gras mambo.  Let me tell you cher, the times were wild in restaurants back then.

Krewe of Zulu Throwawy Coconut

March 6, 1984
“There’s a thing I’ve dreamed of all my life, and I’ll be damned if it don’t look like it’s about to come true — to be King of the Zulu’s parade. After that, I’ll be ready to die.” — Louis Armstrong

The restaurant was empty of customers. They were all in the streets getting wilder and crazier. My sous chef looked at me askance as I was a little bit high myself. One only one waiter and two runners had come into work along with one dishwasher.

I looked at them and said, “Hell, let’s close it up and go outside.” My sous laughed and pulled a small brown vial from his pocket and laid down a line. The dishwashers pulled out their vials and a joint and we all had a party, right then, right there. The noise outside ratcheted it up. “We are missing Zulu Krewe. Y’all go. I’ll close it up. Tell Carl the place was locked when you got here.” Mardis Gras in the Crescent City. Zulu Krewe was lambasting past. I laughed and shook my hips. I threw my apron on the counter, did a couple of more lines,turned the security system back on and headed outside. If I ran, I could catch up to Zulu Krewe. Who knows? If it took off my shirt and shook my tits hard enough, they might just throw me one of their prized coconuts. Laissez les bon temps rouler! Let the good times roll!

fat Tuesday rolls hard –
sex sin and dirty dancin’-
tomorrow we pray

Krewe of Zulu

 

 

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