Her screams were frenzied, but they couldn’t drown out the sweet music coming from Bourbon Street. The rats ran toward the sounds of the music. Toward the sanctuary of thousands and thousands of hidden, sunless crawl spaces within the walls and foundations of the ancient buildings of the Vieux Carrй. They skittered toward the music and darkness, and disappeared into obscurity.
And if the rats perked up their ears just right, they’d hear the mournful yet eternally optimistic notes of a jazz funeral circling the Quarter. And they’d hear Porkchop Chambonne’s trumpet lead the band into the opening bars of a new song of his own composition:
“The Fat White Vampire Blues.”
Notes
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-09a41b-1b67-3d4f-9ebd-53ae-1df2-567822
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 07.05.2010
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FB Writer v2.2, FB Editor v2.2 software
Document authors :
Paco
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Fat White Vampire Blues Page 42
