The Joker drove home along La. Hwy. 61 at dawn. This trip thru the desolate swamp would be his last. He had just quit his dead-end job as the nite nurse in a small adolescent psychiatric hospital in LaPlace and as he breathed the brisk swamp air, for the first time in years, he felt relief. LaPlace was a chemical town slapped down on a patch of high ground between the swamp and the Mississippi River. Close contact with the chemicals refined and stored there had surely damaged the genetic structures of generations of town inhabitants. Once, while walking thru the spillway connecting the river and Lake Ponchartrain, the Joker encountered a grasshopper-like insect, six inches long, jet black with dime sized red spots on his wings. In the moment it took for revulsion to touch his soul, the creature sprang for his throat. Without hesitation, the Joker shot it with his .38. The bug exploded in a greenish cloud of gore only a few feet away from his face, spraying him with a caustic fluid that burned his skin. After working in the LaPlace hospital for a year he felt the same way about the townsfolk as he did about the grasshopper. They were genetic monsters and he was lucky to get away alive. Spiraldance, his pretty wife of two years, would be pleased. This job had made him into a most morose individual, prone to periods of aimless mania and agitated depression, punctuated by explosive fits of anger. They had discussed his changing jobs and she was very supportive. The Joker had come to New Orleans years before from the upper Midwest. As a travel nurse he was intent upon seeing the world but New Orleans charmed him. He settled, attended law school for awhile and then met the most wonderful woman in the world- Spiraldance. The French Quarter was her adopted home. Her friends were pirates, witches, musicians and creoles and she told the most magical tales of life in the Quarter. But her health had turned bad and the city had become too dirty and dangerous. They moved an hour up river to Baton Rouge but found it to be a soulless imitation of the Big Easy. The Joker had suggested traveling to Spiral a few weeks earlier and she liked the idea. It was time to move on. 4/95-Port Richy, Fl. Spiraldance's Travel Page Spiral's Home Page Spiral' s First Web Site Spiral's Women's Web Site Spiral's Site Map Spiral's Web Rings Page spiraldance@webtv.net
The Joker drove home along La. Hwy. 61 at dawn. This trip thru the desolate swamp would be his last. He had just quit his dead-end job as the nite nurse in a small adolescent psychiatric hospital in LaPlace and as he breathed the brisk swamp air, for the first time in years, he felt relief.
LaPlace was a chemical town slapped down on a patch of high ground between the swamp and the Mississippi River. Close contact with the chemicals refined and stored there had surely damaged the genetic structures of generations of town inhabitants. Once, while walking thru the spillway connecting the river and Lake Ponchartrain, the Joker encountered a grasshopper-like insect, six inches long, jet black with dime sized red spots on his wings. In the moment it took for revulsion to touch his soul, the creature sprang for his throat. Without hesitation, the Joker shot it with his .38. The bug exploded in a greenish cloud of gore only a few feet away from his face, spraying him with a caustic fluid that burned his skin. After working in the LaPlace hospital for a year he felt the same way about the townsfolk as he did about the grasshopper. They were genetic monsters and he was lucky to get away alive.
Spiraldance, his pretty wife of two years, would be pleased. This job had made him into a most morose individual, prone to periods of aimless mania and agitated depression, punctuated by explosive fits of anger. They had discussed his changing jobs and she was very supportive.
The Joker had come to New Orleans years before from the upper Midwest. As a travel nurse he was intent upon seeing the world but New Orleans charmed him. He settled, attended law school for awhile and then met the most wonderful woman in the world- Spiraldance. The French Quarter was her adopted home. Her friends were pirates, witches, musicians and creoles and she told the most magical tales of life in the Quarter. But her health had turned bad and the city had become too dirty and dangerous. They moved an hour up river to Baton Rouge but found it to be a soulless imitation of the Big Easy. The Joker had suggested traveling to Spiral a few weeks earlier and she liked the idea.
It was time to move on.
Spiraldance's Travel Page
Spiral's Home Page
Spiral' s First Web Site
Spiral's Women's Web Site
Spiral's Site Map
Spiral's Web Rings Page
