King Cake

Let Them Eat Cake

The Baby fell. His tiny body was swept into the gutter covered in confetti and plastic beads melted by the sun. The city bustled around the baby; ignorant of the tragedy. Too tiny to be seen in the throng of parade attendees passing by in a drunken flurry of lust and merry-making. Mardis Gras was in full swell. The fanfare was something that gave license to forget. Even the sweetest gifts go unnoticed; especially then. The tradition happens every year. People descended below sea level to celebrate. Like the distant ringing of aristocracy, the French quarter rang with the epiphany, " Let them eat cake." The bright yellow, green, and purple cakes were in every store. A reminder that the new year holds wonder and riches yet untold. The swirling together of cultures and coloring is symbolic of bigger ideas like faith, justice, and power. The baby found is supposed to fill the person with luck and prosperity going forward.

Police Chief Bordeaux was halfway through his first short stack and third cup of black coffee as black as Ole Scratch's heart when his cell phone blared over the crowded cafe noise. The waitress was always nice but patrols during festivals always bugged him. A long time ago the city lost its luster trading rich Creole customs for tourist trappings. Gone was the mystery of Epiphany and Tuesdays was filled with fat, drunk guys pissing in the streets and yelling deities in back alleys with the first woman that gave them some beads. It was a real shame. His Haitian Catholic mother would roll over in her grave if she could see what had become of the nine wards.

Static buzzed over the line as dispatch stated a baby had been found in a gutter covered in cake and grime and beads. A gift from this broken city to hail the end of Christmas full of hope and wonder and the beginning of Lent full of loss and cravings. The baby, a holy relic, was now in chaos and was reportedly found by a street sweeper who was too afraid to speak up lest she be hexed.

Ruby's job was simple. Drive the street sweeper around the Quarter once every night and suck the debris out of the gutter. Beautify the decaying city and reduce tourist discontent since Katrina. Got it. It paid ten flat dollars an hour. Enough to scrape by on her row-house rent payments and some groceries. Her life was no picnic but the music was worth the struggle. She was in love with jazz but mercilessly afraid of the stage. Her saxophone sat at home in its case all brilliant curves and deep baritone waiting for her to play him like a spurned lover. She was virtually unknown.

That was until she found the baby. His little face was covered in smeared purple cake. What kind of miracle was that to have rescued a tiny baby from the gutter? But, she was also scared that whoever dropped him off there was trying to forget something, and that scared her worse. In this town, symbols and signs were as important as the daily news. Where did he come from? Who would he be with proper care? What would happen if she had unearthed something sinister?

She waited for the chief's assistant to bring her a baguette and some water and prayed her rosary, She counted crows outside the precinct window and hoped for enough for mirth instead of a whole murder.

She rubbed the white glass beads between her thumb and pointer fingers. "Hail Mary Mother full of grace...Something suddenly crossed her field of vision. A crow descended from the power line above and flew straight into the window. THWACK! She jumped up and knocked the water over. Her report now christened.

Chief Bordeaux drove to the precinct like a bat out of hell. His patrol car blared like a wounded cat. "WEEWOO" "WEEWOO". The damned baby had lived. The woman had agreed to file a report but was scared shitless. This was bad press for NOPD. He was sure this would cause some kind of outcry. Witchcraft, debauchery, Catholic dissent. Scandal. Always on his watch and in his district did the creepy crawly come.

He grabbed his keys and lukewarm coffee and threw open the door to the cruiser. One foot then the other to clean this city up. Guess he better step in it while it was still hot. "Caw. Caw" Above him sat a half dozen crows. Eyeballing his bald spot. He better make this woman feel better. He straightened his lapel and his badge pin and pricked his finger," FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!" he blurted as a tiny stream of blood stained his white shirt. Is nothing sacred in this city anymore he thought as he entered the hallway into interrogation.