Little Metairie (Part IV).
[I warn you, this examination of Little Metairie is going to go on for a very long time.
I was lured into the center of Leather Tuscadero’s web yesterday. She was stewing turkey necks. I can resist many things. Leather Tuscadero is not one of them. “They are getting nice and tender,” Leather said.
We were yukking it up on her spacious, gracious, and palacious back patio.
You don’t know this but Leather is my editor. Howzshe doing? I had brought her the full edition of the Little Metairie essay for her to read and annotate.
“Mr. King, I can’t wait. Can we go up into my rumpus room? I want to read this story.”
“Only if you read it aloud to me,” I said.
Negotiations ensued. Terms were agreed upon.
Leather and I ascended the stairs and went through the green door. We lounged on her wide-bottomed sectional sofa. This would be a good room for a zentai party. This was not the time to bring it up.
Leather read 2/3 of “Little Metairie.” We laughed the whole time. “Mr. King, this is so boring it’s terrible..“
Your humble narrator replied, “That’s what makes it great.” We were laughing so hard we made ourselves cry.
More to follow after the paywall.