Ding dong the witch is dead, the wicked witch, the witch is dead.
They're singing and they're dancing in the streets...
I've never been to the Mardis Gras man, and I bet neither has the Taliban. But if we could go down there together and hoist one at Tipitina's, I would dance and we could ball the wall and have a time. But now that he's dead, unless it's gonna bring all them we got over there home, what does it matter? They got the ball rolling back in the day with the "war on a noun that means fear and loathing" and it ain't gonna be easy to stop it.
Don't get me wrong, that burial at sea was the best news in a long time, maybe since I first heard Professor Longhair play the Blues Rhumba or maybe it was the Preservation Hall Jazz Band playing St James Infirmary on the way to the graveyard and the Saints on the way back. Maybe.
But I just love a parade.
We all wish we had headed a little further south this past winter, but we went to Vermont instead. It's nice there but the winter can hang on a bit. Ry packed his straw boater for Montpelier in March, but he was back to the pork pie by the time we went to Glover in April,  it was still snowing when we crossed them White Mountains.
But on that night back in March we were feeling pretty Mardi Gras, what with it being Anais' birthday and them building a new stage at the cage.
Malikowski was bending the board to his will and it was a night to remember. Amy Correia sang how she can't get a man, and Anais told Ry that love hurts. For Jefferson love is a briar and a red rose. Forget the greasy coat Laura they are folding up the chairs so the love train can roll all around the room. By one a.m. the doors were locked and Amy was admitting that love changes everything, Ry had Ben put on a raspberry beret and Meg was buying rounds.
Hi 'n Dry baby. Ain't living long like this. May we be lucky enough to find another place with proprietors so kind, and all them in the army of fun. Well any mention of the Langdon St Cafe brings back a lot of rain and shine, summer's days by the Onion River and blizzards too. What can you say about that whole crew who cooked us meals and put us up; showed us the best of their hometown and forced us to love it. We saw the wizard and learned some songs from Hadestown too.
Well they are closing their doors, and it breaks our heart.
Eventually we will find our way back over the rainbow, even if we have to drive all the way to Parker's Pies in the northeast kingdom. We met a guy in Biddeford who builds ultralight camping gear. Maybe we can commission him to make a tent so we can return to Montpelier in style (Bedouin style that is) and set up on the edge of town with a spacious view, perhaps a dromedary or two.
But until then we will tip our hat to the Middle Earth, and put the bunny to bed. Ren-fair will play one last reel and the mayor will bid the town goodnight.