Merry Sister Mary: Two Can Play That Game

1: Sister Mary Lets One Out

It was October 1, 1972, and autumn was still new. Least could be said for the rambunctious thumping of Louisiana's old, crumbling roads. The devilish shaking rocked my gut making any hopes of holding back an irritated hell spawn impossible. Against the will of God, an invisible stench ripped into the world from underneath my saintly robes filling the police car with a noxious cloud of putrid gas. The smell burned my eyes and suffocated my lungs sending me into an animalistic panic for survival. Like a landlocked fish pleading for life upon the shore, my eyes bulged and the veins in my neck pulsed. I sought refuge in the small amount of fresh air seeping through a crack in the window. My pressed and distorted face pleaded for mercy through the glass. Drivers of passing vehicles would look over at the police car, and where they would expect to find a criminal cuffed and silent, they would instead witness a nun arched in an unholy contortion, tongue twirling, and caught in a silent scream.

No divine reasoning could explain to these passing cars why I was licking the back windows of a police vehicle, and nothing could prepare my poor friend and driver for my weak continence. Sure the talents of a nun were often reserved for the betterment of the community, but after my revelation in the town of Saint Francisville, my talents focused on two things- an ability to sleuth out criminals using my nunley eloquence and an ability to procure hellish sulphur when I was nervous. Despite my confident demeanor, the idea of meeting a whole new group of nuns had me on edge. This was my final chance to find my place in the world. Otherwise, I risked excommunication from the church and a separation from a life I always knew.

I watched from the corner of my eye as the smell reached Sergeant Leblanc. Thinking his thick mustache would filter out my rancid release was purely fictional. His eyes lit up wider than a golf ball, and he instantly began to gag.

"By all that is holy, Sister Mary," cried Leblanc while rolling down his window. A draft of fresh moist air burst into the police car. "Jesus Christ! What did you eat?"

"Sergeant Leblanc," I corrected, flapping my robes to loosen any trapped smells, "you mustn't take the lord's name in vain. It is very un-christian of you."

"And you're one to talk," said Leblanc, pinching his nose with his free hand while the other steaded the steering wheel. "A nun solving crimes, chasing killers, breaking into libraries, stealing cars. I ought to arrest you."

"And instead, you are taking me to see my new family."

"Consider it my good deed for the day. But when I drop you off I must get a promise that you will behave. New Orleans is my home and I don't want to hear you making a mockery of it."

"You have so little faith in me," I joked, kicking the back of his seat.

"I'm being serious, Sister Mary. The Poor Clares and the Ursuline nuns have lived and worshiped in this city almost since its inception. They are very respected by the community."

"Of course," I said, trying to be serious. Suddenly my stomach gurgled once more shaking the vehicle's interior. "Ugh," I moaned as I clutched my waist. "I think that ice cream from earlier is coming back with a vengeance. Oh be gentle sweet sweet ice cream." I shifted in my seat allowing another haphazard toot to scoot from my rump. Leblanc pushed his head out the window and gulped in a lung full of air.

"Why couldn't you hold that for a bit longer?" He screamed against the wind. "We aren't far from the city."

"It is always easier to ask forgiveness than permission." I tapped my umbrella's metal tip to the glass. "Besides I don't think you would have approved me hanging my arse out the window as I originally considered."

Leblanc pulled his head back in and stared forward at the road.

"Remind me to never escort you again."

"Oh trust me, Leblanc, you won't forget."

"Well, there is no restroom for miles so you're going to have to hold it."

"May the lord give me strength," I said as I turned my gaze out the window. A kid stared at me from a passing truck. I stuck my tongue out causing the little boy to do the same.

For the next few minutes we drove over a long stretch of swampy landscape. Bald cypress trees with their tiny knees and the occasional tupelo gum dotted the water's edge. Twisting boat trails cut through the marsh grass creating a labyrinth to the horizon Abundant wildlife sprung up along the road populated by stoic egrets with their white slender bodies slowly inching through the water to patiently catch a fish and brown pelicans standing on old piers. They looked like giant chickens with oversized beaks and a wingspan as big as my protruding stomach.

The sun glittered across Lake Pontchartrain. A part of me shuddered to imagine the police car plunging into the brackish water. My hands curved around my umbrella with irrational trepidation. Here I was, a nun afraid of water, inching deeper and deeper into the wetlands of Louisiana.

Soon the swamp began to fade away replaced by dirt levees and concrete walls. I stuck my nose to the window observing the place that was to be my new home. In the distance tall buildings pierced the sky showcasing the heart of the New Orleans' business district. Traffic increased in volume as we curved alongside a series of poorer neighborhoods. People walked about down the narrow lanes and stray dogs ran amuck. The road then rose over a giant graveyard acting as a giant border between older and newer parts of New Orleans. This city of the dead had elaborate above ground mausoleums complete with statues of angels and images of holy worship. Dancing down one of these eerie streets was a parade of people dressed in black. They lifted umbrellas to the sound of trumpets and drums as a casket led the way.

Beyond the graveyard the true historic city of New Orleans took shape. A massive dome was being built near the city's heart where the remains of an old railyard once stood. Metal cranes arched over the construction as men toiled away to the sounds of hammers and the shine of welding torches. Churches of every denomination dotted the street corners, factories and restaurants filled in the gaps, and where some residents inhabited the upper floors of buildings, grand and colorful homes pressed up against each other with tiny yards and unique styles.

Sergeant Leblanc remained quiet as the police car curved through the neighborhoods. I looked on with awe embracing the city's cute character. A retired trolly car rested on the tracks beside us; its peeling paint and rusted edges stood as testament to its once luxurious history. A lonely musician crouched over an overturned bucket; his hands drumming a beat as people around him jumped and cheered.

"A lively city," suddenly said Sergeant Leblanc as he peeked over his shoulder at me in the back seat. "You're sure to find it matches your personality quite well."

"I would hope so," I said watching the buildings and people flash on by.

"We are coming up to St. Clare Monastery. You should make yourself ready."

I watched a red brick series of structures with white trim loom around the corner. A cloister of many arches hugged the side chapel above which rooms were situated. Tall windows filled every side of the monastery with the occasional rose window to break up the monotony. A brick fence topped iron rungs surrounded the entire property showcasing a prison more so than a place of worship. Beyond the fence a small courtyard with trees gandered over to catch a glimpse of the world outside. As the car turned to the front, an archway appeared welcoming any onlooker to a grand building with drab brown church doors. At the top capped a white stone cross. It haloed in the light like a godly beacon to my demise.

"Here we are," said Leblanc as he parked the police car on the street. "Beautiful ain't she."

"I think our opinions on beauty vary quite a bit, Sergeant." I hesitated in the back seat and squeezed my umbrella tightly. Two nuns dressed in gray gowns and black veils exited the doors and stood on the steps; their arms crossed and their faces even more so. I knew even without an introduction a negative impression of me had already been established.

"Lord have mercy on me," I prayed while trying to swallow my fears. "Just smile and be merry. Smile and be merry."

Leblanc walked around the car and opened my door. Like a cat being brought to a new home, I apprehensively exited the vehicle. My stomach grumbled. Sweat beaded on my forehead. Every eye was upon me, judging me. And as a loud bus horn blared behind me, my arse erupted a terrified hymn.

"Oh shit," I whispered.