Sitting in my home in the French Quarter this Thursday evening, I was startled by a ubiquitous roar that seemed to come from all directions at once. I figured the Saints game must be on, and if the crowd's reaction was so boisterous, perhaps I should watch it.
Problem being, I don't think
we get any TV stations. The ways of our TV are a mystery to me.
So I decided to trot down to the corner pub to watch the game there.
I poked my head in on Ryder, our friend who's staying with us, telling him my plans.
I thought Ryder would like an update on the game, so we started texting, and so was born…
Marquis Déjà Dû: There seem to be a number of gentlemen darting quickly about the lawn, and quite miffed with one another. Let me know if you'd like further play-by-play updates.
Ryder: Oh goodness. Yes, there are some good spectacles out there tonight.
MDD: One fellow deliberately knocked into another fellow, the latter taking a nasty spill and dropping some elliptical object of unknown origin of which the former fellow appears most covetous.
R: Fascinating behavior.
MDD: All of a sudden, a merchant is plying his wares most vociferously: a cunning horseless carriage that appears able to manfully extract cumbersome objects from the soil!
R: I somehow doubt his credibility. Be wary before committing to a purchase.
MDD: Sage counsel indeed.
After a particularly frenetic and abstract mêlée, the gentlemen are taking a moment of respite. One is so greedily thristy for his orange elixir that he quite stained his chemise in the taking. His wife shall have words with him, mark me.
R: Another marriage strained by garments stained…
MDD: A pretty epigram for an ugly tragedy.
For all the brutal, barbarous altercations, it seems unlikely that the one man refraining from such violence, in a black and white striped tunic, should be such a mean-spirited tattle tale.
R: Most people I see in black and white striped tunics are more easygoing. My worldview lies in ruins.
MDD: A second merchant now extolls the superiority of his carriage, and plumes himself that his product can dash through misty mountain passes with a surplus of aplomb lacking in the previous crier's wares. Shall these men, too, come to blows?
O happy day! Our lads from the Parish have garnered several more pips upon the scoring board! It augers well for a certain victory.
R: Brava! My faith in our beloved troupe has never waned. I offer my adulations!
MDD: A grievous pratfall evinces a palpable tension amongst the patrons in the tavern—a very Christian sign of empathy after their previous, unarguably heartless cry of, "Kill that mutherfucker!"
R: Slander not the battle cry of the people! In a communal altercation of such magnitude, such fervor is to be endorsed wholeheartedly!
MDD: You are, of course, quite right. Tempers run hot and cold, like the moods of a woman, and both are entirely natural states. It can alarm one, however, as much in nature will.
After that, something exciting happened in the match and I had to betake myself away-wards with an attack of the vapors…