It is light after a long hot night, the owner of the bordello sips tea....

...a fat man in a sweaty stained white suit swats at flies with detached glee...

When all at once, a young woman with a small suitcase stands timidly in the doorway. Her curling glossy hair falls around her face...she looks around and asks for Pinky Tornado...

The fat man slowly looks her up and down, snearing all the time. He maneuvers his cigar to one corner of his mouth and growls, "Pinky's been gone for months, had an unfortunate encounter with a disgruntled customer if ya know what I mean. What's it to you?"

"Well, Sir...Pinky....Pinky is my mother."

His forehead, already covered with perspiration, beaded a fresh layer of sweat as his mouth gaped and ashes fell like soiled snow on his lapel. Tension marked his face, as much as he tried to hide it, and he warmed his tone of voice, "I didn't know Pinky had a daughter. She never mentioned one."

"I wasn't the kind of daughter someone like Pinky would mention. She wasn't any kind of mother people notice either."
The women leaned over the table. Her hair, reclining from her shoulders like a cat, releases the sent of lavender.
"The only thing I ever remember her telling me, 'Shelly never forget, the Monkey's Paw is ours.'"

She left when I was very young. The young woman continues on her trembling mission, "I have an envelope that I must deliver to her. I must give it to her personally, or....or...I simply must find my mother, Pinky Tornado!" With this, our heroine, Zinka, slumps into a chair and the old man sits across from her wanting desperately to snatch the small parchment envelope that must be thirty years old.

Shelley Zinka...yes, that's her name.

The already agitated man became more apparently so. Sweat stains soaked his now dingy suit as he shifted hsi eyes between Zinka and the envelope. The fright he tried to cover was obvious to Shelly and she knew, wth some effort, she could persuade the answers out of him, one way or another.

He turned away slightly, his gaze falling on a lazy fly, "She's dead I told you"
"Try again."
"What? You question me? I said she's..."
Her hand shot out with blinding speed. Carefully manacured nails, Sephora Red 59, danced across his cheek raising two hesitant drops of blood.
"I said... try again!"
"She's as good as dead!", he spat. His eyes betrayed the beginnings of fear. The sour smell grew more intense.
"She...she's with the Texan!"

Shelley drew back in thought, her mind racing with possibilities. She'd searched half her life for this musty bordello and if Pinky really was with the Texan, that would change her plans. Lanky men with a drawl had a way of doing that.

A rustle in the bushes brought them both out of their thoughts of Pinky and the Texan and whatever else stood silently between them. Shelly, used to living in life's seamier side for most of her life, threw herself on the floor as the three shots rang out, piercing both the night and the fat man. A shadowed hand reached around into the lapel of the suit of sweat and dirt and now feces and pulled out what he wanted, what he didn't want Shelly to find, the Monkey's Paw.

Shelley rose to her knees, and held her hands out to take the paw. The precious monkey paw! It was all happening now, exactly what the letter said would happen. A man would die, and Shelley would be saved. She looked into the eyes of the woman who held the paw. The woman held out her hand and said, "I'm here to take you home."

Home? Shelly knew no home and trusted no strangers. Grabbing the Monkey's paw she whirled and ran into the street. The lady did not follow her or maybe she did and Shelly just out ran her. With new resolve, Shelly decided to hunt down this Texan and learn the secret of the Monkey's paw.

Panting, Shelly ducked behind the dumpster. She slowly opened her hand and, for the first time, studied the Monkey Paw that her mother had said was her birthright.
How could this shriveled dead hand point her in the direction which she must take in seeking her long lost mother?
Just as she thought that, the hand warmed and moved in her hand and, terrified, she dropped it on the asphalt. As she watched, all the fingers except for the index finger curled up. The finger pointed to a rusty metal door that hung half ajar which she had not noticed before.

Gingerly, she picked up the hand and slid it into her jacket pocket. She pushed open the door; just a little and peer inside. A shaft of dusty light spread reluctantly across the floor of the room.

Shelley shut her eyes and drew a deep calming breath through her nose. She was not afraid. Fate had brought her to these crossroads, and the monkey paw had pointed the way.

Trying her best to ignore the twitching disembodied paw in her pocket, Shelley moved forward on silent cat feet and gently opened the door a little more. A slight protest of rusty metal on rusty metal was more a squeak than a squeal, but in the preternatural silence it was almost deafening to Shelley. Knowing she had only moments before someone came to investigate the errant noise, she quickly slipped inside to find what fate and the damned monkey paw had led her to.

The door clicked behind her. The room was cement with one iron-barred window high in the outside wall. The smell of oldness and rats filled her nose.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the faint light, she noticed the outline of a wooden door, barred by a iron bar. She felt the Monkey Paw twitch to life again, tugging at her pocket, urging her forward. She obeyed and approached the door.

The sound of urgent voices on the other side of the door stopped Shelley with her hand on the iron bar. "Jeezum, that is one heavy bastard!", a male voice grunted. "Shut up and get him over to the lift. We have to get out of here before anyone shows up.", a gruff feminine voice replied. There was the sound of cloth rubbing against cement, as Shelley imagined a bulky body being dragged across the dank floor. Suddenly, there was a loud click and the whining sound of a motor coming to life. Shelley nearly screamed, as her mind kept repeating, "You're in the elevator room! Calm down! It's just the motor for the elevator!".

The coldness of the iron bar on her hand brought her back to her senses. She was safe.

The bar was on her side.

She noticed a small crack in the ancient wooden door and put her eye to it. What she saw raised gooseflesh on her arms as well as the Monkey's Paw in her pocket, which trembled.

A rather large, brutish-looking fellow in a tan sports jacket with green slacks was dragging someone across the floor. All Shelley could see from her vantage point was a pair of rather expensive-looking Italian shoes (judging by the soles), a pinstriped suit stained scarlet near the lapels, and a shock of black hair cascading from a head tucked down. To the left, she saw a statuesque strawberry blond, all business in a dark pants suit. Suddenly the blond held up her hand, and the brute stopped dragging his load. "What?", he complained.
"Quiet, you ass!", the blond replied. "Are you wearing cologne?". The brute looked at her, grinning. "Naw. I don't bodder wit dat stuff. Why?" The blond looked around. "Because I am wearing Chanel. But I smell lavendar."

Shelley gasped involuntarally. She saw the blond's heavily mascara-laden eyes look directly into her own through the crack. The Monkey's Paw clenched fabric in her pocket, and Shelly ran to the door which now opened with a loud shriek! She ran down the alley into the street which was crowded with a Mardi Gras crowd of fabulously attired revelers--all of them drunk. She dove into the crowd, being pinched and groped on all sides. The Monkey Fist pinched back.
She made her way up Bourbon street into the night.

There was safety in the madness. She could disappear into the sea of debauchery, but only for a time. The crowd would grow tired. The sun would come up, and Shelley would have to face the day. She would have to go back to that room.

Shelley jerked awake at a pinch in her side. The Monkey again.
She found herself on a cold iron bench where she had fallen asleep against someone dressed as the Zulu King. In fact, he looked a lot like the Zulu King. After she extricated herself from his embrace, she took a cell phone picture, planning to photoshop it later and put herself in.
She stretched. She remembered.
She knew that she would need to return to that room.

Shelley stood for what seemed like an eternity, tormented by indecision and staring blankly at the door. Suddenly, from the shadows to the right of the door, she saw the soft glow of a cigarette. Preparing to turn and run, she heard the gruff female voice speak to her. "I knew you would come back, but I wasn't sure you would come alone. How nice that you did." Shelley drew in a deep breath and forgot to let it out again when the strawberry blond stepped out of the alley.
"I knew it was you the moment I smelled the lavendar. It is the same shampoo you used as a child." She smiled rather knowingly at Shelley, as Shelley's eyes grew wide. "Pinky?", Shelley practically whispered. "Mom?" Pinky smiled even wider.
"Yes, my little girl. It's me." Shelley was shocked, remembering the scene she had witnessed in the elevator room. "But....but I saw you with that dead man..."
Pinky looked perplexed, then laughed out loud in that throaty smoker's laugh. "Dead man? Oh, dear. That was Pete. He got drunk and fell face first on the floor, we thought he broke his nose. Jimmy was helping me get him upstairs before anyone had a chance
to see he was drunk at work. But dead? Oh, my, I can't believe you would think that..."
Shelley paused to take this all in. In her pocket, the monkey paw was eerily still, as if it knew its rightful owner was only a few steps away.

Shelley had endured untellable hardships in her search for her mother. Now that she was standing in front of Pinky, Shelley stared hungrily into her mother's face, searching for her own.
"So, do you have a place to stay tonight?" Her mother's voice softened. She cocked her head to the right and down as she finished speaking and let her chin bounce once. It was the mirrored image of Shelley's own longtime gesture. Now she knew where it came from.
"No, Pinky. Mom."
Pinky took Shelley's arm and guided her down the alleyway. As they walked, Shelley remembered the thirty-year-old yellowed envelope she carried in her shirt. This, she knew, she would have to give to Pinky.
No matter what. But not tonight.

Shelly struggled to wake up. It was almost as if she had been drugged it was so hard to pry her eyes open. She heard muffled voices in the hallway and managed to drag herself to window in time to see dark figures exiting the house.

One was tall and broad and obviously a man. He was heavily burdened. Shelly rubbed her eyes as it looked like he was carrying a body over one shoulder. Surely she was wrong?

As Shelley tried began to focus, she could see the body was wearing slippers. Pink fuzzy slippers with rhinestone hearts. The big man had Pinky tossed over his shoulder, and as Shelley still struggled to come awake, she could see Pinky's fingers moving. She was making a sign. She wasn't dead, but they were taking her somewhere.

Very glad that she had not mentioned the envelope or the Monkey's Paw the night before to her mother, Shelley shook off the last ill effects of what ever substance had been used to make her muzzie and dressed with alacrity. Having found her mother at last, she was not about to let her be carried off into the night like Cleopatra.

Stealthy in the dark, she followed the men into the night careful to stay far enough behind that her missteps might not betray her. Luckily the men were so confident one used a lantern to light their way making it easy to track them in the night.

Shelley reached into her pocket to grasp the only comofrt available to her. The Monkey Paw curled around her fingers and gave her hand a little squeeze.
It was good to have a friend, even a disembodied one.
From their wending through the alleyways, Shelley realized there would be no safety in the crowds. She also began to guess where they were headed.
And she did not want to go there.

Saint Louis #1 had haunted Shelley since a child. She once played hide-and-seek there with a group of older girls. In an act of cruelty they shoved her in an open tomb and held the door shut until her cries caught the attention of an old groundskeeper. When the Creole man opened the door she was as frightened by his wrinkled skin and smoky eyes as she had been at the thought of being trapped forever.

Shelley slipped through the gate noiselessly and followed Pinky as they led her away among the labrynthine pathways between the imposing tombs.
The Monkey Paw reached its way from her pocket , crawling finger-over-finger until it reached her collar. Shelley looked down at the extended index finger, again pointing in the direction she knew she must take. It was all up to the Monkey Paw.
She knew whose tomb lay in that direction and knew she must get there first.

Shelley stood very still in that moment. She looked back. She just stood gazing over her shoulder into her past, her loves, her passion, her girlhood. "Never look back!" her mind raced. But she did, and in the distance she saw a bird fly from a magnolia tree, saw everything she ever wanted or loved take flight, and with tears falling on her hands, she turned her gaze to the tomb and began walking in the path of her destiny. With scant faith and great courage, she walked the road all great girls must walk. The road to the self. The narrow slip of rebirth.

As Shelley stood just a few yards from the tomb, the monkey paw began to flail and scratch wildly. Shelley look down to her right, and in the ground was an old wooden door. She grabbed onto the paw and the handle of the door and walked boldly down the steep stairs. A man sat in plush surroundings. And a beautiful woman. She recognized them! The woman had long glittering red hair. She was smiling, and the man stared intently at the woman, then turned to Shelley. It was Tom Robbins. The writer. The woman was Princess Leigh-Cheri. Without a word, the Princess took Shelley's hand and led her to a room where there was a steaming bath and candles and a swell little Versace number on a hanger and fabulous Manolos.

"He has to do this," Leigh-Cheri whispered. "He has to step in here and make you beautiful and well dressed and...well just look at the La Perla panties he put there for you. He can't let you go to that tomb uncared for."

Tom came in and took the monkey paw from Shelley's pocket. "This is kinda mine, " he smiled to himself. "But you can have it back later. Thanks for taking it. I like being ripped by glorious women."

(I do wish we could edit these comments after they post!)

Shelley was finally able to overcome the surprise that had muted her. "Well, Mr. Robbins, you are probably the last person I expected to find here. Yes, I do remember you - small world, isn't it?"
Tom smiled. "If the world gets any smaller I'll end up living next door to myself." He chuckled, then motioned towards the bath. "Leigh and I will give you some privacy while you freshen up. Don't worry, there's plenty of time."
Shelley watched their retreating backs with a mixture of awe and caution. There were many reasons not to trust either one of them, but only one reason to stay the course. That reason, the most compelling one, the one that led to a reunion with Pinky, finally won out as she slowly stripped off the clothes crusted with grime and stepped gingerly into the tub.

Shelley had a sense that someone had hit the "pause" button on time. She sank back into the steaming bath and inhaled the expensive scent surround her. As she closed her eyes, the image Pinky--her mother, her mother whom she had barely known, her mother whose hand she so deeply craved as a blessing upon her head--was held like a fly in a spider web, suspended in time.
Shelley slipped from the bath and was handed a towel by none other than--the Monkey Paw. She quickly dressed in the little Versace number and slipped out the anteroom where Robbins and the Princess were locked in close embrace, unable to follow her.
Shelley emerged from the tomb with renewed confidence. She knew that the Monkey Paw knew to whom it belonged. Gripping the Monkey Paw in her pocket, she headed towards the Voodoo Queen's tomb.

Unless you knew exactly what to look for, you would easily miss the Voodoo Queen's tomb. It was as unremarkable in granite death as the queen herself was in fleshy life; a small, simple statue turned slightly greenish with time of a young girl kneeling, arms outstretched and eyes beseeching the heavens. There was no other marker at the mausoleum's entrance, no plaque with any name. The gates leading into the crypt were slightly askew, as if someone had hurriedly entered or exited and forgotten to close them.
With nothing but the stylish Versace dress, the Monkey's Paw and her courage to support her, Shelley quietly slipped inside the mouldering ruins of the Queen's tomb to see what fate had in store for her and Pinky.

The air inside was musty and dank. The skittering sounds of hopefully small creatures could be heard in the deeper darkness below. As Shelley peered about the inner chamber of the crypt, she noticed one of the drawers was unsealed and slightly open. Steeling herself, she approached the askew drawer and gingerly looked inside.
There was a small folded piece of paper, a flashlight, some new-looking batteries, and a single teardrop-shaped ruby earring. Shelley first picked up the note and opened it, squinting in the faint light to read it. Shaking her head at her own silliness, she put down the note and picked up the flashlight and batteries. Loading the batteries in, Shelley clicked the switch and nodded as the bright beam leaped forth. She then picked up the note and trained the light on it.

The spidery writing was difficult to make out but seemed to be addressed to her:

Brave girl, child of adversity,
Remember your lessons of courage and prepare for a new lesson.
In the corner, you will find an old cloak. Wear it.
The Queen.

Shelley picked up the cloak, disturbing a century's dust. Gingerly, she draped it over her shoulders. Immediately, she found that her vision was that of a cat or an osprey--she could see Pinky being dragged through the mud towards her. More than that, the muscles in her body tingled and burned.
The Moneky Paw took his position for battle on her shoulder.
They waited together.

Hearing voices approaching, Shelley quickly dowsed the flashlight; she no longer needed it anyway. Wrapping herself in the dusty cloak, only her glittering eyes now visible, she melted back into the shadows.
"OW! That HURT!", a female voice shouted. It was Pinky, no doubt about it. "Yeah, and it will hurt worse if you don't MOVE YOUR ASS!", a gruff male voice replied. The minimal wintry daylight that slithered through the cracked doorway was suddenly snuffed out by approaching shadows. Quickly, without thinking, Shelley reached across, picked up the earring from the drawer, and tossed it gently towards the middle of the crypt floor. Seconds later, the vague outline that must be Pinky Tornado flowed into the antechamber, blotting out the last remaining sliver of external light. The Monkey's Paw twitched quietly, almost excitedly, on Shelley's cloaked shoulder.
Pinky shuffled slowly across the gritty floor until her foot brushed the earring, making it ring out quietly in the gloomy crypt. Stooping low, Pinky swept her fingers across the floor until they came into contact with the earring, which she quickly snatched up. Holding it so close to her face that it nearly touched her nose and crossed her eyes, Pinky examined the earring closely. A slight gasp escaped her as she recognized it from the photo of the Voodoo Queen that had hung until recently in her apartment. Surely it was a sign, but from who?
The scent of lavender briefly wafted past her nose, and she knew. Knew who had left this cryptic mausoleum message, and knew what she, Pinky Tornado, must now do.

"My Queen!"
Pinky's smoky voice in the tomb smote the thugs like a fist, and they fell against the wall.
"I stand before your presence as your loyal handmaiden. Help me now in my hour of need."
The Monkey Paw gripped Shelley's shoulder, urging her forward. As she stepped forward, she swept the wings of her cloak wide and enveloped the awestruck Pinky. Together, they rose through the air and hovered in front of the cowering men. The Monkey Paw danced upon Shelley's shoulder and scampered out of her cloak. Shelley held the paw up to the men's faces, and it folded all its fingers except for the middle one.

The two men stood totally dumbfounded, not knowing what to make of this disembodied simian fuck-you. The momentary lapse was all that was needed, though, and they had no time to regret their inaction. As Shelley and Pinky floated above their heads (Shelley briefly thanked the gods that it was too dark in here for those lovely panties that Tom Robbins gave her to be seen), there was an enormous crack, like thunder. A sudden blast of dusty, fetid air came roaring into the chamber, blinding and deafening the two men.
Shelley could barely see even with her heightened vision, but she saw enough. Saw the leathery-winged shaped swoop down, heard the melon-like thunking of heads being slammed, and then more ominous wet sounds. The roaring of the fetid cyclone scaled upward, but Shelley and Pinky felt only a soft buffeting through the cloak.
As suddenly as it had arrived, the screaming wind disappeared, leaving the chamber empty except for one shoe, still tied. As her feet once again met the crypt floor, Pinky dared to open her eyes and saw Shelley's glittering eyes only inches from her. "My God, what WAS that?", Pinky exclaimed. "Oh, I think you know quite well what it was, mother. After all, you summoned her." Shelley suddenly stiffened. "Damn! I almost forgot!" Reaching inside the cloak, delving into the tight part of the Versace dress that covered her cleavage, she removed a slightly wrinkled envelope. "I have to give you this, mother. But this may not be the best place to read it." Pinky looked at the outstretched envelope, then closed her own hand over it. "Sure thing, kid. But where do we go from here?"
Shelley smiled. "Oh, I know a lovely little place where we can have some privacy. But first....." Shelley quickly went back over to that still opened drawer, now empty save for the accumulation of dust. Gently, she placed the Monkey's Paw inside, where it lay still as if being chastised. "I think you're supposed to stay here now. Thanks for all your help.", Shelley spoke to the hand. Briefly, the fingers curled underneath, lifting the paw up off the dusty surface and then gently canting it forward, as if bowing. Then it returned to the bottom of the drawer and laid still.
Somewhere deeper in the crypt, an evil chuckle could be heard. It was time to find the sunlight again.

With the cloak covering them both, the two women picked their way around the mudpuddles through the alleyways within the city of tombs until they reached Tom Robbin's tomb. Shelley bowed Pinky in the door which flooded them with the rich scent of incense.
The luxurious apartment appeared to be untenentted with only a rumpled bed and an empty pack of Camel cigarettes on the floor which appeared to have been stepped on rather hard.
"You know," Pinky said, "A little propane refrigerator full of beer and a TV would really turn this place into a--"
"A home, Mother?" Shelley smiled. "It is all I have ever wanted."

Fin.