Murder On The Air Chapter Three

Chapter Three: “Never Knew I Needed”

The starry sky was dark indigo, with a few small clouds strolling by. A peculiar planet-sized red Pentagram pulsed with energy over a modern looking city below. Faint red light colored part of the sky like moonlight.

But this place wasn't peaceful New Orleans…it was Hell.

The city was in chaos. Not the usual Turf Wars fought over by powerful demons. This was pandemonium, even for the Inferno.

And speaking of infernos…

Raging fires lit up the streets in furious oranges, devious reds and blinding yellows. They consumed broken windows and several wrecked cars. One burning car was on the road and another was partway inside another building. A pink neon sign of a posing Angel Dust stood in contrast to the light of the flames.

But that wasn't all that was occurring.

With shrieks and laughter, horned voodoo imps wearing top hats and fancy black clothing raced out of a store, carrying bags of food and money they had just looted. One imp stood over a red screaming demon, holding a sharp knife over him. The demon screamed as he was brutally stabbed. Another imp proudly held a red demon's head on a sharp pike. Two other demons sat at a table with a white tablecloth, watching the carnage below.

And the deer.

Deer were everywhere, of all shapes and sizes. The brown furry deer lay motionless in the street, at least four unfortunate ones. Some were stags, some were does, one had white spots on its coat. They all lay in pools of crimson blood. A horde of imps gathered around one deer and began feasting. A skeleton deer stood in the background. Three hovering shadow stags grinned evilly in various spots, their eyes glowing red.

Jack, a furry brown animal, huddled in fear against a building. Cameron, a blonde haired woman, stood with her back and arms against a wall, a look of sheer terror on her face. Animals were bad enough for this therapist who suffered from Zoophobia. Animal-like demons were even worse. Tom, the teenage black-wearing incubus, sat on top of another building, legs dangling out.

Thankfully, the three fellows glanced at a small portal off in the distance. Cameron silently called them over and they raced through it, back to their home world. The demons weren't so lucky.

The scene faded to black. Standing in the air, larger than life was a beaming grown-up human Alastor, dressed in dark pants and a fancy white shirt with a bow tie under his neck.

"Hello Grandmother!" he greeted cheerfully.

"Alastor?"

Her grandson stared at her with loving wide brown eyes. "You see only the best in me, right?"

"Of course, dear boy."

She reached out to hug him but he vanished.

He appeared behind her as she turned around.

His voice changed into a low radio voice, not moving his mouth. "Good. Because everyone will know what I'm capable of."

He eyes turned pitch black before small tentacles slid from the sockets. His skin turned from a healthy brown to a deathly gray. Large black antlers sprouted from his head, visible even in the darkness. His clothing was replaced with a long red dress coat with small vertical stripes and a black bow-tie under his neck. His hair became longer, black and red in color. Tall fluffy tuffs shaped like deer ears emerged from his head. His fingers turned into deadly claws, his white teeth growing yellow and sharp. His black eyes filled with glowing red light as his mouth inched into a wider smile. His face was a deer skull with bits of muscle still attached.

She was paralyzed.

He towered over her, his mouth opening ever wider. Beyond the sharp teeth, black gums and lavender tongue was a maw of black. Radio static and evil laughter consumed all else…

Antoinette awoke with a start, breathing in gasps of air. Sweat dotted her dark brown forehead and her wrinkled fingers were gripping the bed sheets. Traces of the vision were already fading. Before starting her usual day of gardening, cooking and rituals, she clasped her hands together.

"Please God…please God…" she pleaded, praying to both the Heavenly Father and Bondye, "keep mah grandson safe and on the right path."

Autumn, nineteen hundred and three

Young Alastor was seven years old, now in third year. Elementary school would last eight years, followed by four years of high school. He wore blue pants, brown shoes, and a tan buttoned shirt. A checkered hat was on his head. The clothing felt tighter than his usual loose outfits he wore at home.

In a line, Alastor followed his classmates into the room. The large classroom was full of wooden desks in rows, the ones with small chairs attached to them. A larger taller desk for the teacher stood near a large blackboard that took up much of the white wall. A round white clock with black numbers hung higher from a wall off to the right.

He took a seat beside other children around his age at a wooden desk toward the front of the room. The older kids in the higher grades sat toward the back and the little kids sat at the front. The older kids had the privilege of being near the windows.

"Alright, settle down everyone. We'll get started here shortly," said a voice.

In walked the teacher, a white middle-aged brunette woman wearing a long white skirt, black shoes, leggings, and a plain white top with blue trim around the edges.

She wrote her name on the board, "Miss Handerson," and began the lessons. The older kids took out their pencils and notebooks. Alastor had several pieces of plain white lined paper in front of him.

Miss Handerson went over many topics: literature, history, writing and math.

"So we know about addition and subtraction," she said, starting on the math portion. "Two plus three equals five, for instance and five minus three equals two. Now there are other ways to add and take away different things. That's where multiplication and division comes in. Let's say I have nine apples for a picnic. Two of my friends come with me and we want to share them. Between the three of us, how many apples would we get?"

A girl raised her hand. "Three."

"Very good. Three plus three plus three equals nine. At the same time, three times three equals nine as we are adding three groups of the three apples. Now say I ate one apple. I have eight apples and I want to divide them evenly between my two friends. How many would we each get?"

A boy raised his hand. "Four?" he asked.

"Correct. How about if I had four friends? Let the younger ones answer, please."

She waited while they figured it out.

"Two," said a boy after raising his hand.

"Yes, my four friends would each get two apples. Eight divided by four equals two and vice versa. Sometimes, though, you get a remainder or a number left over. For instance, ten divided by three equals three point three. You can distribute three groups of three apples evenly and have one left over. Then you could further cut that apple into thirds."

She wrote the problems and fractions on the board. "The little dot between the numbers is a decimal. Let's move on to long division."

The teacher handed out worksheets for the students to complete. Alastor struggled with the harder problems.

She talked to the older students. "Don't forget that in order to go to high school, you'll have to complete the entrance exam. It consists of geometry, algebra, multiple choice questions and short essays. Be sure to know your history, too. It's administered in eighth year, so be sure to study hard."

Alastor drew sketches on the papers in boredom.

None of the stuff he learned appeared to be relevant as time went on. It was memorization of historic dates, random math problems and interpreting texts. Shakespeare was the worst. Half the time, he couldn't understand the Old English language. And the part where Romeo and Juliet fell in love before killing themselves in despair…it was all balderdash, to him. Why couldn't the lovers team up and run away from their parents?

He blurted out how stupid an assigned book was. It was filled with racist imagery and boring facts.

The class erupted in laughter. All except the teacher and several other students who shook their heads.

Alastor was dragged to the front of the desk and made to hold out his hand.

He cried out when the stick hit his palm. Once, twice, three times.

"Have anything else to say?" she asked, eyes stern. Alastor was silent, clutching his cut hand. He shook his head.

"Back to your seat."

Alastor ignored all the eyes trained on him.

Class was finally over and after sitting by himself at recess, he eagerly followed his class into the auditorium. Theater and music were his favorite classes, and continued to be throughout his years. The theater teacher was a jolly man with a head of dark hair, glasses and a thin grayish beard.

Alastor and his classmates took turns in different roles: led singers, background dancers, lighting crew, prop makers, costume organizers. Alastor even got to play the saxophone, (even though he played out of tune, he still enjoyed it.) The class practiced standing in a line and bowing at the same time to an invisible audience in their seats. From an early age, Alastor wasn't afraid of being in the spotlight; he relished every chance he could get.

Which led to some conflicts when, in one session, he argued with another boy over who would play the pirate captain.

"I know you want to be the captain," the teacher told Alastor, "but David's assigned the role. You're part of the background crew."

The black haired boy waved his sword proudly, wearing a captain's hat with a skull and crossbones on it.

"It's not fair!" Alastor complained. "I have so many lines to memorize and the role's so boring."

"That's the way it is. Now go up there and finish your lines."

Alastor glared at David who stuck out his tongue, before marching off.

During rehearsal, Alastor had stuttered over his lines, creating snickers from several of the students. He even had to wear a pathetic small hat with a yellow feathers on it.

The show started several days later.

When it was his turn to sing behind the led pirate, he messed up several words and his voice cracked. The older boys in the front row jeered at him.

"Hey pussy pirate!" called a bunch for fourth year boys. "Keep on swabbin' the decks with your chicken hat!"

The laughter rang in his ears as he accidentally tripped over his clothing, falling onto the wooden floor. The audience laughed.

He stood and brushed himself off, forcing a smile onto his face. At least he got points for comic relief.

Alastor glared as David and a girl dressed as a princess danced and embraced. He would've loved to be in that role, but here he was stuck as second best…well not even that. He was just a random pirate with a script saying a bunch of pathetic lines like, "We gotta row this vessel before that storm comes!" and "Oh no, she's tippin' over! Hurry fellas before we're fish food!"

Why couldn't Alastor pretend to be on a Mardi Gras float, with children saying "throw me something mista!" so he could toss down necklaces and coins? Mardi Gras was a festive time for everyone that lasted several months. The city would be immersed in yellow, green and purple colors, king cakes, joy and laughter. It was the closest thing Alastor had to a vacation of sorts. It was the real thing when it came to dancing, flashy costumes and enchanting music.

But here he was in a hideous stuffy costume in a school auditorium.

"Pay attention, Alastor!" mouthed the theater teacher from the front.

He ignored the snickering from his classmates and memorized his lines as best as he could.

He was glad when the play was over. But there was one other activity that he dreaded more than math. Gym.

His sports uniforms were a bit big on him. He wore a red jersey with the number fifty two on the back in black numbers. He could dribble a basketball just fine…it was the pushing and the shoving from the others that got to him.

Third year boys against fourth year boys. It wasn't going to end well.

The basketball was soon stolen from him in the blink of an eye by a burly haired fourth grader. "Nerd!" he blurted out before running down the court. Alastor ran to keep up, dashing in between the fourth graders. One of the boys kept shoving Alastor to the floor. The tall boy jumped and landed a slam dunk. Cheering followed from the bleachers.

The coach blew his whistle and announced the final score. "Fourth grade six, third grade two." The third graders groaned in their defeat.

"Losers have to run a mile," the coach said. "Hop to it, boys!" Alastor and his classmates raced around a dirt track outside. It was the beginning of autumn and the sun was still deadly hot. No merciful cool breeze to aide him along the way.

His uniform clung to his skin as he huffed and puffed.

"Don't stop, Alastor!" yelled the coach. "You've got forty minutes left!"

Alastor yelled in frustration, tripped on a rock and collapsed from exhaustion. His gym report card wasn't good.

His father soon found out about it. In the backyard, a baseball flew straight at Alastor and he forgot to catch it in his mitt. The ball flew over his head and rolled through the grass.

"I got it!" Alastor said again and ran to retrieve the ball. Louis stood in the backyard, holding his son's report card in his hand.

"Alastor Roscoe Crowley. I can't believe this," he said with disapproval. "How could you fail gym class? I raised you better than this."

Alastor in his looser clothing ran back and threw the ball. It bounced haphazardly off to the right.

"You aim is off," Louis critiqued, as he walked back to get the ball. He mentioned to the wooden baseball bat leaning against a chair. Alastor went over, slide the mitt off and picked up the bat. It felt awkward in his hands.

He missed the ball.

"Strike one," said his dad.

"Mama doesn't make me practice like this," Alastor mentioned.

"She baby's you too much," Louis replied. "You're a boy growing up. This is what the other boys are learning. You can't make the school team with an attitude like that."

"But I don't…" Alastor began.

"By your age in school, I was the led player and already planning my first job. And you will, too. Now smile and stand up straight."

Louis threw a curve ball and Alastor swung the bat.

"Strike two."

"Again," said Louis. The ball flew toward him and this time, he managed to hit it with the bat. It sailed and landed in a tree branch.

"Climb up and get it," Louis ordered.

Alastor walked nervously to the pine tree. "But I'll fall."

"Not if you're careful," he replied.

With one timid step and then another, the young boy began his ascent up the branches. He hoisted himself up onto another branch using both arms. Grabbing onto another branch for support, he kept climbing. The branches crisscrossed from above and got thinner.

The further up he got, the more the branches creaked under his weight. Finally, he spotted the white baseball, nettled in between two branches. He reached up with his arm and the branch below him began to bend. He inched further up and managed to hit the ball with his hand. The ball bounced down the branches and back into the yard. He looked down at the height and felt queasy.

The branch under his feet suddenly snapped and he slipped down with a yelp.

He grabbed onto another branch with both hands, his knuckles straining with effort.

"Papa help!" he called out. His feet and legs were dangling dangerously in the air. With no support for his feet, he struggled in desperation. His sweaty hands soon slipped from the branch.

"Yaaaaahhhh!"

He tumbled down, the ground quickly getting closer…

There was no impact…only the feeling that he was falling in slow motion. He briefly saw a teal aura around his body and closed his eyes.

He opened them, finding himself safely in the arms of his mother. She was wearing a pretty red dress made of wool with pink dots on it.

"Mama?"

She gently released him, helping him stand on his shaky legs. "It's alright, dear. Dat was a close one." She brushed twigs from his brown hair.

"Are you okay?" asked Louis, rushing over.

"I'm fine Papa," Alastor said.

"We were just practicing some baseball," Louis said.

"Then why did Ah walk out and find Alastor danglin' from a tree?" Loretta asked.

"I told him to get the ball."

"And ya put his life in danger!"

"A few bruises and scratches wouldn't hurt him. It's part of growing up."

"He's still just a kid!"

"With no time for him to be indulging in childish fantasies."

Loretta looked over at her son.

"Go inside, sweetie. Your father and Ah need to have a brief talk."

Alastor went inside as Loretta shut the door. Alastor stared out the window moments later to see the two of them arguing. The sound was muffled so he couldn't hear what they were saying. But their open mouths and tense postures were clear.

Alastor opened the window a crack and heard a series of swears in French. He quickly shut it.

He opened it again when it all seemed quiet. Then the swearing began again and he slammed it shut. To his horror, he saw his father slap his mother's butt, Loretta turning toward her husband in anger.

After several minutes, Louis shoved Loretta aside and stomped up the steps before opening the back door.

"Stop right there!" Alastor called.

Louis looked down at him. "Yes, son?"

Alastor continued, "You can't keep making me do sports and Bible School forever. I know your game, and I'm not gonna let you drill me day and night like that."

"You'd be wise to show some respect," Louis warned. "Remember that Rottweiler that guards the junkyard on the outskirts of the city?"

"Yes," Alastor said. The family occasionally passed the mostly abandoned junkyard on errands. He had only briefly gotten a glimpse of the snarling, scary beast from behind the barbed wire fence as they drove past it.

"Best hope you don't have to be locked in there and acquaint yourself with it for an hour."

Alastor's eyes widened and he fell silent. He sensed that his father wasn't kidding about the unusually cruel punishment.

"Keep practicing, Al. Your lessons in hunting and taxidermy will begin soon enough. And no complaining. Frowning makes you weak."

He walked out the front door, got into the old fashioned red Ford car and drove off.

Loretta came in and huffed a big sigh. "Why Ah' never!"

Alastor had tears rolling down his eyes.

"Now, now my son, there's no need for dat."

She wiped away his tears.

"W-why were you fighting out there?" he sniffled.

"Well, sometimes parents fight about stuff. It's part of life. But we work it out and move on."

"What if I…can't move on? Papa says I'm a pathetic person stuck in the same stage of development."

"Don't listen to him too much," she stated. "You are growing and ya certainly ain't pathetic. And yes, ya always move on in life. Don't feel bad if you don't met his expectations. Remember that fun little saying Ah used to say to ya when you was three?"

"Hoodoo, Voodoo, you do you?"

"Exactly," she smiled. Dark brown fingers affectionately rubbed Alastor's cheeks. She used two of her fingers to gently tilt his mouth upwards. "Don't forget to smile, dear Alastor. It shows strength and confidence. Plus, you're never fully dressed without one."

Alastor giggled when she pat his head and gave him a kiss on the mouth.

"Ah' know something that might cheer ya up even more," she said, leading the way into the kitchen. She got out cutting boards, a pot and a fry pan.

"Have ya ever tried jambalaya before?"

"Jam what?" Alastor asked.

"Jambalaya. It's a delicious mixture of foods. Ah' have a special recipe for it. Ah think Ah remember givin' ya a spoonful at Mardi Gras once. Good old Jambalaya."

Alastor laughed. "That's a funny name!"

"It is, ain't it? And it don't even have jam in it. Would ya like to help me make it?"

Alastor's eyes lit up. "Yes Mama, I'd love to!"

Finally something fun and interesting.

First, she put a pot over one of the old black stove holders. "Let's light the burner," she said.

"Don't we turn the stove on and wait?" he asked.

"Well we usually do," she said, mischief in her eyes. "But with your father gone…Ah'm feeling more…magical today."

She held out her hand, which soon glowed teal and chanted "Ignis."

Flames rose to life from underneath. She snapped her fingers and the flame went out.

"Wanna try?"

Alastor gulped nervously. "I haven't done magic since…"

"Yes, Ah know," she said. "But it's never too early to try. Like Ah said, do it in secret and you'll be fine. Now breathe in…"

Alastor inhaled.

"And let it out…"

Alastor exhaled.

They did two more deep breaths together.

"Now clear ya mind and focus on what ya want to do. Picture the flames appearin'. Some people can do magic with their minds. If it helps, say it out loud or snap ya fingers."

Alastor concentrated. "Ignis." He snapped his fingers once.

Nothing.

"Ignis."

Snapped them again.

Still nothing.

He grumbled.

"Don't get frustrated. Just keep trying," Loretta encouraged, hand on his shoulder.

A pause.

"Ignis!"

He snapped his fingers again and this time, hot blue flames flickered to life under the pot.

"Yes! I did it!" Alastor cheered.

"Ya certainly did!" said Loretta, celebrating with him. She turned the stove to medium heat and put oil in the pot. She went over to a plastic cutting board on a table and showed Alastor how to cut up the andouille sausage and chicken.

"Careful now," she said, handing him a smaller knife.

Chop, chop chop.

It was rhythmic and fun for Alastor when he used the knife.

"Nice job," she said. She let Alastor scrape the sausage slices into the oiled pan.

Loretta mentioned to a box of New Orleans rice in a packet. "Ya can go heat up the rice. Ah'll work on the vegetables."

Alastor poured the long grain rice into another pot with boiling water. Loretta entertained her son with tales of Mardi Gras in the past years.

"…and then, after Ah draped myself with those plastic necklaces, mah friend and Ah talked about how her boyfriend had played the tuba off-key in his boxers when he was practicin'. He had thought no one was looking. And then it turned out, he's standing there in front of us, his face hidden by a party mask!"

They laughed.

"Not to mention dat one woman who got arrested after she went topless after curfew."

"Wow, how embarrassing is that?" Alastor joined in. "At least I have a sense of modesty."

Loretta chopped and diced tomatoes, green onions, celery, a regular onion and two bell peppers, red and yellow. She emphasized the holy trinity of vegetables: onion, peppers and celery. The rice, tomatoes, and vegetables were later added together in the pan, which was simmered to low. Finally, lovely pink shrimp from the icebox was added and cooked for several minutes. Old Bay seasoning and oregano were also added.

Loretta turned off the stove and both of them snapped their fingers to extinguish the flames. They used a wooden spoon to serve themselves the delicious looking Creole dish. The gumbo was scooped onto plates and they sat at the kitchen table.

A melodious aroma of flavor reached Alastor's nostrils: the smell of tomato sauce, tangy baked chicken, the kick of various herbs and spices. Alastor scooped up some jambalaya and put it into his mouth.

It was a taste of Heaven. A flare of exotic flavor, backed by the restless heat of sauce, and a velvety texture…all made to excite the taste buds and fill the stomach. It would be Alastor's favorite comfort food for many years to come. His body almost seemed to glow as more food fell down his trap.

"Deer meat would go well with this, I think," Alastor mentioned between mouthfuls.

"Ah agree," said Loretta. "Your father sometimes comes back home with fresh meat after a good hunt. Perhaps sometime we can add dat to this dish."

Alastor soon licked his plate clean…literally.

"Al! Not at the table, please."

"Sorry," he said, happiness in his eyes, putting the plate down. "That was the best meal ever!"

Loretta laughed. "Ah'm so glad. Louis don't usually thank me for dinner anymore. Ah clean every night but Ah'm used to it. Speaking of which, why don't ya help me out here? You are growin' up, after all."

Alastor and his mother embraced before gathering the plates and hand-washing the objects in the sink. Alastor passed the dishes to her as she cleaned them. The pan, pots and silverware were soon clean and left to dry on towels. The two of them made their way to the living room.

"So Al," his mother mentioned. "How about ya try your best when your father is around while still being true to ya-self? Ah know it can be hard sometimes, but both of us want what's best for ya."

"And what is best for me anyway?" he asked.

"Only you can decide that later on."

"My classmates…they're so mean…"

"They've been bullying ya?"

He nodded. She gave him a comforting side hug.

"Don't let their hurtful words get to ya. Like Ah' said before, smilin' shows dominance. This town thrives on creativity and joy…looking the part can go a long way."

Then she got an idea.

"Say…would ya like to dance with me for fun?"

"Mama, I'm a grown boy," Alastor protested, raising his eyebrows.

"Not just yet in mah eyes. You see, ya can grow up while still enjoyin' carefree moments like these." She walked over to a table.

"Don't worry, Ah' can make things more enjoyable…if ya wish."

With a curve of her finger and a wink, a box of toy cars and a cup of root beer appeared in teal outlines on the table, just within his reach. Alastor's eyes grew wide and he walked over.

"For me?"

She nodded. "If anyone asks, Ah' got 'em from the store."

"Thank you!"

The toys at the store were expensive to get but that didn't deter Loretta. Not when she could occasionally cheat with magic.

"What, you think you can bribe me with some toy cars and some cheap root beer?" Alastor jokingly asked. "Well you can!" He took the cup and happily drank from it.

When the sun was going down under the horizon, Loretta walked over and dusted off the record player not too far from the unlit fireplace. It had a needle, some vinyl and a golden horn shaped speaker attached. The needle tapped against a disc that she added to the round space and old time-y music began to play. She taught Alastor some dance moves and songs, including the waltz.

Soft jazz began to play and moonlight shone through the large window. The young boy couldn't help it…he sang his heart out:

"For the making of my first beginning

And for the rare and unexpected friend

For the way you're always there by my side

When all seems lost, you open my doors wide

My mama standing here, my guardian angel"

"My accidental happily… "

"Ever after," she sang.

"The way you smile and comfort me"

"With your laughter," she added.

Alastor continued:

"You're the best thing I never knew I needed

So when you were here I had no idea

You are the best thing I never knew I needed

So now it's clear, I need you here always"

Loretta sang her part:

"For the way ya changed mah plans

For being the perfect distraction

For when ya came into mah life

So unexpectedly, yet meant to be

Mah son right here, mah pride and joy"

"Mah accidental happily… "

"Ever after," Alastor sang.

"The way you smile and comfort me"

"With your laughter," he added.

Both of them sang a duet and danced together in a moment of pure bliss and freedom.

"You're the best thing I never knew I needed

So when you were here I had no idea

You are the best thing I never knew I needed

So now it's clear, I need you here always"

"You're the best thing I never knew I needed

So when you were here I had no idea

You are the best thing I never knew I needed

So now it's clear, I need you here always"

Alastor sang the final verse:

"You are the best thing I never knew I needed

So now it's clear, I…"

The record scratched to a stop as the front door opened. Alastor stood, eyes wide, pupils constricted in stunned shock. Louis came in through the door, holding a pack of beer in one hand and his briefcase in the other.

Both Alastor and Loretta turned around.

"What are you two doing?" he asked. "Al, you should be in bed now! Off you go. Go."

Alastor gave his mother a quick kiss and hug. "Je t'aime maman."

"Je t'aime aussi bebe," She replied.

Alastor had a happy dream where he lived his life as a young red fawn, with a furry red coat and spiral designs on his large furry ears. He rode a flying red race car through fields of tall golden grass. He charged forward and battled large dinosaurs with white skin.

"You're my hero!" a pretty blonde doe cried to him as he made a monster explode. "I'm Summer! You remind me of my older brother."

The little blonde doe turned into a humanoid form and led him to a unique school called Zoo Phoenix Academy.

"Welcome to the Zoo Phoenix Academy," she squealed. "You are going to love it here!" She laughed as she led the way to the theater room.

"Hello everyone," said Alastor.

"It's Alastor!" exclaimed a group of friendly animal students. "Please perform for us!"

Soon, he found himself on stage. In real life, he would be nervous at first, but not this time. He stomped his hooves and sang to a cheering crowd. He even performed magic shows to the awe of the audience. With a magic horn emerging from his head, he shot fireworks into the air, colorful confetti raining down.

"Bravo, Radio Deerman!" the crowd chanted as he basked in the limelight. Both his mother and father gave him a standing ovation. He even got a chance to ride atop a Mardi Gras float as more people cheered from the sides. He found himself flying blissfully toward the sun.

He woke up in the dark, the dream already gone from his memory. He lay in bed and thought about jambalaya.

Jambalaya stayed with Alastor as time went on. In fact, he remembered another day when his mother made jambalaya. He had walked into the kitchen and found several empty bottles of Southern Comfort on the kitchen table.

"Hiya mah boy!" she greeted in a drunken haze. "Imma show ya how to make da best jumbo gumbo dis side of New Orleans."

She walked over to the frying pan where she dumped shrimp, rice, sausage, and diced vegetables into it. The food sizzled.

Alastor stared at it. "Uh, Mama…I think you're supposed to cook them separately first."

"What can ya do then, dear fellow?" she asked.

Alastor looked in fear at the stove. "I can turn it off."

"HA! No," she replied, raising and lowering her face near his. "It's called jumbo-lya for a reason. You know, 'cause Cajun chefs always lie!" She laughed at her joke.

Alastor repeated the joke out loud. "What do you call a Cajun foodie who never tells the truth? Jamba-lya! Hohohoho! Good one!"

Loretta sang off-key out loud as she stirred in the mixture. Smoke rose from the pan.

She gasped aloud. "Ya know what this needs?! Ah almost forgot!"

She opened the cabinet doors and rummaged around for something. After not finding what she was looking for, she raced into the living room. Louis' gun rested in an open safe in a long drawer. In another drawer was a cloth bag. She dipped her hand into it, then walked back to the kitchen.

"Ah found it!" she declared.

"Found what?" Alastor asked.

"Da essential ingredient that Papa Legba ordered!"

She moved over to the frying pan, Alastor looking with wide eyes. She released her hand and a shower of a light gray substance landed into the food.

Gunpowder.

A sizzling of smoke, a show of sparks and then…

Ka-boom!

The jambalaya in the pan exploded into her face in a fiery blast. The force of it sent the woman backwards to the floor.

"Mama!"

Alastor quickly turned the stove off and stared down at her.

Loretta was screaming and clutching her charred face. Her hands were blackened as well. Several areas were bloody and missing skin. Louis heard the commotion and gasped in shock.

"Call an ambulance," he told Alastor. "I'll handle the rest." He moved his wife to a safe place while Alastor raced toward the rotary phone.

Soon the ambulance arrived and Loretta was taken to the hospital. Her face was dozed with cool water and soon bandaged up. Thankfully, she survived. Alastor breathed a sigh of relief when he heard she would be able to come home in a few days. Curiosity overtook him and with a metal spoon, he scooped up some sizzled gunpowder topped jambalaya. She had even added wasabi sauce to it. He took a taste of it and his face turned red. He swallowed the spicy substance and his eyes watered.

He laughed as his tongue burned. "This kick is straight outta Hell!" he declared. He promptly finished up the rest…and had a stomach ache that lasted the rest of the day.