You probably thinking you have to be a UN Translator to be able to understand any of that, eh!? Well, if you’ve managed to muddle your way through it and even grasped a fraction of it………..then, well you’ll be right at home here in New Orleans, the home of Cajuns that love their bayou and their parties. Jambalaya and Gumbo are only two of the dishes that are recognizable worldwide. Crawfish is in an abundance here and is so common that you’d never find my family nor our servants going anywhere near it, however, those brought up on the otherside of the tracks, well let’s just say they find it to be a delicacy and well, I find it absolutely nausating to say the least.

I am hanging out with my oldest and closest friend tonight, Darius. His mother and father were servants for my folks. Since my parents treated them so well and with so much respect, that it was not a surprise when Darius and I were born at the very exact time in the limo on the way to the hospital that we all became like one big family. Darius is like a brother to me, since we’ve known each other our whole lives. My father even arranged for Darius to receive Beaumont Foundation scholarships to the private co-ed school we attended as kids and teenagers and later to LSU with me. Even though he was brilliant, a genius chemist, and graduated ***** Laude with a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry, Darius could never find a company willing to hire him in the area. He wanted to be near his elderly and ailing mother, who had just buried her husband, so he opted to become more than adequately acquainted with the streets of New Orleans. He had been busted so many times, and I’ve bailed him out so many times. That eventually he became my personal informant for a free get out of jail pass; as well as, some money to help take care of his mother and his kid brother and sisters. After about a few years, Darius had a son and daughter to add to the mix; their mother had taken off and Darius’ mother was kind enough to watch after her grandchildren. She adored them even though their mother was white. Life was difficult for Darius and his family, even with a college degree he had to fall back on dealing and running numbers to, well, make ends meet. Eventually, Darius had racked up a record that could have put him away for a very long time. But thanks to me and my father’s influence, the NOPD ‘arranged’ a deal with Darius. He’d stay on the streets running numbers, but no longer dealing, staying steeped deeply into the New Orleans’ less-then-respectable community; he’d provide me with information whenever I needed it and he’d get to stay out of jail and earn a ‘under the table’ fee that kept his family fed and taken care of.