| #2 Some kinda cousin or something once came down from up north looking for traces of an runaway black sheep grampa or gruncle who'd lived (and barbered, IIRC) at a certain address more or less across from Congo Square. Said address turned out to be a nice old creole cottage chopped into voodoo shoppe [huge googly eye-roll] and apartments, in one of which, years later, after the storm, a kooky cook would disassemble and cook his better half. Quite a notorious case. Couple of palefaces, I think, but it's been a while. |