Walking Mojo
DISCLAIMER - This work of speculative fiction is not meant to in any way infringe upon the copyrights, civil rights, or right to arm bears or pursuits of happiness of SOME CRAZY BITCH WHO SUES HER FANS, Knopf Publishing and all of it's bastard children, Geffen Pictures or it's mistress, Warner Home Video or any of their lackeys, toadies or stoolies.
Thankyou.
SPOILERS: VampChron to TotBT
Time Frame: three years after TotBT
SPEC - Walking Mojo
By DarkAngel
Special writing credit to Father Of Lies for "Memory-argumentative" lines. ALL FRENCH HELP, and Proofreading! And various and sundry other services.
Dear SPECters,
The English translations of the French in this SPEC are contained in parentheses immediately following the French. And all the dialogue below is, believe it or not, for the very first time, live right here on our stage, original and written by me! Well, I mean, some of these words have been used before, but not in this order.
Enjoy!
DarkAngel
This Spec is heretofore dedicated to The Real Mojo, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge on July 14, 1999.
"The one, absolute, unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog."
- Senator George Graham Vest, Eulogy on the Dog
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Walking Mojo
by DarkAngel
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Lestat walked quickly down the Rue Royale. He was happy to be home again. He had had enough of adventures for a bit. He was weary and tired and craved familiar surroundings. "Even the Devil goes home to Hell to sleep." He thought. He came to his town house. He could sense Mojo inside. He readied himself for a full frontal attack of canine affection and walked through the door.The dog was not there. He must not have heard him come through the door. "Mojo?" He called. Perhaps Louis had locked him in a room or something. "Louis?" Lestat called, walking up the stairs into the living room. Louis lay on the floor, headphones on, reading . Mojo was asleep, head and front paws on Louis' back.
Lestat kneeled down in front of Louis and tapped his book. Louis looked up and smiled, removing the headphones. "Lestat, you have returned early."
"Four months in the Amazon seemed like long enough to me. David and Gabrielle disagreed." Lestat stood and looked down at the two of them. "But it looks as if I have arrived just in time. You seem to have purloined my dog, Louis."
Louis frowned up at him. "Lestat, what do you mean? He is right here."
"Oui, beautiful one, I see that. But when I left he was growling at you. I return and you are all cuddled up like a couple of newlyweds."
Louis rolled his eyes at him. "You asked me to look after the dog, Lestat. I looked after the dog." Louis looked over his shoulder. "Mojo, leves-toi." (Mojo, get up.) Mojo opened his eyes lazily and reluctantly moved his paws. Louis stood up and went to turn off the stereo. Mojo sat and whined. Louis looked back at him. "Mojo, allais-toi a Lestat." (Mojo, go to Lestat.)
Mojo turned in the direction Louis pointed, he saw Lestat and stood up and ran to him immediately, jumping up onto Lestat's chest and barking joyously. Lestat laughed and hugged and petted and kissed him. During this reunion, Louis returned his book to Lestat's bookcase and went into the kitchen to put on his jacket. "I have fed him this evening and he has been out." Louis called as he walked down the stairs.
Lestat was intent upon a game of tug-o-war with Mojo, over Mojo's toy mailman, and did not answer.
"Good-bye." Louis said as he closed the door behind himself.
The next two hours were taken up with Mojo following Lestat all around the house, as Lestat put away his new things and relocated his old things. Reveling in the feel of being home.
As dawn neared, Mojo began to nip at Lestat's sleeve. "Stop it Mojo. Settle down."
Mojo whined and ran down the hall, within a few minutes he was back, this time pulling at Lestat's pant leg. "What is it, Mojo? Has Timmy fallen down the well?" Mojo barked at Lestat and ran back down the hall. Lestat could hear him scratching at a door.
Lestat sighed and went down the hall. "Mojo?" Mojo whined and pawed at the door. It was the door to the spare bedroom. Louis' old room. Lestat thought vaguely. It hadn't been opened in over a year. "You want in there?" Lestat opened the door, "There's nothing-."
Lestat saw that the room had been dusted and cleaned. "Ah, Louis let you in here?" Lestat asked the dog. Mojo ran into the room and jumped on the bed. Lestat noticed there was a new velvet coverlet there, that was well decorated with Mojo's fur. "So Louis was letting you sleep in here, was he?" Lestat smiled. He looked around the room. There were a few books that looked new. A new hairbrush on the bureau. He opened the top drawer of the dresser. It contained about thirty candles and maybe twelve books of matches.
"Louis wasn't actually living here ?" Lestat asked Mojo. In answer, Mojo jumped down from the bed and scrambled underneath it. Lestat walked to the closet and opened the door. To his surprise there were clothes hanging there. Two black sweaters. A white poet's shirt. A black denim SAINTS jacket with leather sleeves. Black high-top converse sneakers. "Why Louis, " Lestat said, "clothing from this century! How unusual for you." He closed the closet door and heard something fall. Lestat reopened the door and saw the source of the noise. A box of dog treats.
Lestat laughed, "So THIS is what you were looking for, hmmm?" he asked Mojo. He shook the box and Mojo came out from under the bed. He walked to Lestat, sat in front of him, and held up one paw.
"Mojo, what in the hell is that?" Lestat petted the dog's head and tossed him four or five treats. Mojo ate them all in just under three seconds and came back and resumed his former stance. Mojo tried to reach for Lestat's right hand with his paw. Lestat looked at him strangely. "Here." Lestat emptied the box on the floor. Mojo ate them all and then looked back at Lestat.
"Come on, Mojo, bedtime." Lestat called, walking down the hall to his own room. Mojo followed.
Lestat opened the door to his own room to see that it had been kept clean and dusted as well. "Hired a maid service, did we Louis?" He asked. Lestat undressed and lay down in the bed. It had been freshly made, at least the sheets smelled of laundry soap, and the mattress had been turned. "I'll have to get the name from Louis." he told Mojo. "So hard to get good help these days, you know." Lestat patted the bed and Mojo jumped up with him. "Lie down , Mojo. Good boy." Lestat closed his eyes, he could hear Mojo's tail thumping on the mattress. A while later, Lestat was aware of a scratching and whining. He could feel that the sun was about 30 minutes from the horizon. He called to Mojo. Mojo came, but he only barked at Lestat and went back to what he was doing. Lestat sighed and got out of bed. He followed Mojo back into the spare room. Mojo was jumping on the bed, then from there to the window, barking and scratching at the window frame, then he turned and ran down stairs to the back door and barked.
"Mojo, it is too late to go out. Besides, Louis said he already-" But Mojo was past him and running to the front door. He sat and whined. He got up and paced in front of the door, then he was back upstairs to the spare room again. He ran this circuit about three times before Lestat tired of trying to figure it out and went to bed. "Calm down, Mojo. I'll see you tonight." Lestat crawled back into bed just as the death sleep started to approach him. As he felt the sun must have been rising, he heard Mojo go wild barking and scratching, but the next moment he was asleep.
As dusk fell the following night, Lestat arose to find Mojo sleeping outside the door of the spare room. "Mojo" Lestat called to him. "come here." Mojo stood and rushed to Lestat, jumping and barking and licking his face. "Yes, yes, I am happy to see you too!" Lestat walked down the hall to the living room, as he did, Mojo raced ahead of him. Lestat sat on the couch and turned on the television set. Mojo came up to him and sat with something in his mouth, tail thumping in excitement.
"What is this?" Lestat reached for the long object. It was a leash. Lestat was horrified. "Louis had you on a LEASH??!" Mojo seemed oblivious to Lestat's outrage and waited for him to hook the leash to his collar. His collar? What the hell did Louis think he was doing? Domesticating MY dog?! Lestat unbuckled the collar and threw it and the leash in the wastebasket. "Come on Mojo." Lestat walked to the door. Mojo looked at him, confused. "Here Mojo!" Lestat patted his leg, and the dog came to him. Lestat opened the door and they went out into the darkness.
Lestat had always wandered with Mojo, wherever the mood struck him. But this evening it was quite apparent that Mojo had places to go, people to see. So Lestat was content to follow the dog and see where he would take him. After Mojo went to the back courtyard, and did his gardening, he went straight out the gate and up the Rue Royale to St. Peter. There he turned and went to the door of the cathedral.
"Need to make confession, Mojo?" Lestat asked. Mojo let his tongue out and panted at him. Lestat walked away from the Cathedral. Mojo watched him and then suddenly bounded across the little garden in Jackson Square and sat at the corner. Waiting for Lestat. As soon as the traffic cleared, Lestat and Mojo crossed the street. Mojo rushed under the awning of the Café Du Monde and sat next to the outermost table, in the corner.
"Hello Mojo!" Lestat turned toward the voice. It was a young waitress, early twenties perhaps. Mojo barked a greeting to her and put his paws up on the table. Lestat was just beginning to wonder which episode of the Twilight Zone he had gotten caught in, when the waitress reached their table.
Lestat sat and she looked at him suspiciously. "Who are you?" She asked, not quite rudely, but not quite friendly either.
"Uh . .I belong to him." Lestat said, patting Mojo and flashing her his most charming smile.
"Oh." She said, but she still didn't look too convinced. "You want his usual?"
Lestat was stunned. His dog had a USUAL at the Café Du Monde? He vaguely hoped that this didn't turn out to be the episode where the little boy can destroy you with a thought. "Yes," Lestat nodded, "bring us his usual, please."
"Anything for you?" She asked.
"Café au lait."
She nodded and turned to fill the order.
Lestat looked at the dog. "Mojo, when did you get a social life? huh?"
The waitress brought a plate of beignets, a bowl, and a carton of milk. She set the Café au lait in front of Lestat. Lestat pulled out his wallet.
"He's all paid up for this month." The waitress told him, nodding to Mojo. "You putting that on his tab?"
Lestat blinked. "Mojo has a tab?" He was astonished. Mojo whimpered at him.
"Aren't you gonna give him one?" The waitress asked him.
"Uh . ." Lestat was not sure what to say.
The waitress grabbed a beignet and tossed it at Mojo. He caught it expertly, in mid-air.
"Are you the new dogsitter or something?" she asked Lestat.
"I am the dog owner, actually." Lestat told her.
"Oh, you're back , then." She sounded disappointed.
"Yes. I am." Lestat said. Mojo nosed the carton of milk.
"You need to pour the milk into the bowl for him." The waitress told him.
"He can't do it for himself?" Lestat asked her, smiling.
"He can, but he doesn't want to show off." She smiled and petted Mojo's back. Then she was called to another table.
Lestat poured the milk in the bowl and set the bowl under the table. He warmed his hands on the café au lait and tossed beignets to Mojo, and wondered what in hell Louis could have been thinking?
As he neared the bottom of the plate, the waitress returned. "Want anything else?"
"Non, merci, mademoiselle." Lestat told her.
"So would you like this on the tab?"
"Yes." If the dog's got a tab, might as well use it, Lestat thought.
The waitress picked up the empty plate and looked thoughtfully at Lestat for a moment. Finally she said, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"I would love to hear any question you have, ma chere."
She smiled, "Umm, is Louie still here, or did he go home?"
"Louie?" Lestat knew who she meant even with the American pronunciation, but he was so shocked that she knew his name he couldn't think what else to say.
She looked at him like he was an idiot. "Yeah, Louie, you know, your dogsitter. This tall," She raised her hand about a foot over her head, "black hair, green eyes, French accent, been watching your dog for like months! Louie."
"Ah, yes, of course." Lestat nodded. "I believe that he is still around somewhere. Why?"
"Well, if you see him, could you just tell him, Tabitha says hi, and I got an A on my theosophy final?" She asked. "And tell him that . . .you know . . .I'm gonna miss him."
She has a crush on my little fledgling! Why Louie, you heartbreaker! I never would have guessed. "I will be pleased to give him that information." Lestat grinned at her, chuckling. He stood and bowed his head to her. "Mademoiselle Tabitha, bonsoir." He gestured for Mojo, and followed him out of the café.
Mojo led Lestat down Decatur to Saint Phillips Street. "So, Louis has been using you to pick up chicks, has he?" Lestat asked Mojo. Mojo looked up at him and barked once. Lestat laughed out loud.
They crossed North Rampart and Mojo ran into Beauregard Square. Lestat stood and watched him. Mojo ran back to him, and stood. "Go on, Mojo." Lestat told him. "Where do we go from here?"
Mojo ran again, toward the pond, as he reached it he looked back at Lestat and barked. Lestat followed him. As soon as Lestat was near him, Mojo started running again, full speed, around the pond. But when he realized that Lestat was not running with him, he turned around and trotted back to him.
Lestat looked down at him. "What? We have to run?"
Mojo turned and ran, this time Lestat ran with him. Mojo circled the pond three times, then ran into Louis Armstrong Park and threw himself down beneath a large live oak and panted for a while. Lestat sat down and Mojo crawled into his lap and put his head on Lestat's knee, looking up into his face. Lestat stroked the dog's fur. "So this is Louis' routine, is it?" Lestat laughed. "I remember when he used to be an aimless wanderer."
Mojo shut his eyes and rested. "How long does this last?" Lestat asked him. Mojo opened his eyes, looked at Lestat, as if to say, 'As long as I damn well please.' And shut his eyes again. Lestat leaned back against the tree trunk and smoothed Mojo's fur. He could hear the night sounds of the French Quarter clearly in the wind, music, laughter, traffic. He could smell the water, the food, the flowers, the humans. The unique potpourri of New Orleans. It was soothing and calm. Trust Louis to always find the eye of the storm, a spot of peace in the urban jungle. Lestat settled in. He looked up and watched the stars for a while. He got lost in his own thoughts. It occurred to him that he hadn't even said goodbye to Louis. Much less thank you. Or 'How are you? I haven't seen you in so long.' But then again, he never said those things to Louis. Louis understands the way I am. Surely he no longer expects such things from me. He knows I love to see him. If he ever had anything to tell me, he would tell me. I wouldn't have to ask. Would I? It isn't as if he needs that kind of attention, he never has. At least not from me. Louis is quiet. Louis is private. Louis wouldn't talk to me if I begged him. What would be the point? It would just make us both uncomfortable, and then he would probably run away and hide for a decade. Besides, I have people to talk to. I talk to David and Marius, and even Armand if I get really desperate. And anyone else I happen to come across, when we run into each other. Certainly Louis could do the same. It isn't as if he has to talk to me. It certainly isn't as if he has no option but to talk with half-grown mortals about theosophy, of all the deadly dull and boring topics. If Louis were lonely, he would have stayed last night. Louis likes to be on his own. If he wanted to come and live in the house he would have. He knows that I wouldn't refuse him. He was probably just keeping his things there for convenience, practicality. Why else? If he had wanted to live with me, he wouldn't have moved out when we returned from Rio. And he certainly wouldn't have stayed away two years. We cannot live together, we fight. We both know that. He irritates me, I annoy him, it's a disaster all around. And we were driving David straight up the wall, through the ceiling and into madness. Yes, he loves me. I love him too, but I cannot be expected to anticipate his every whim. If he does want something, he is just going to have to tell me. I am not going to ask him. That isn't how we work. He asks, I laugh. THAT is how we work. And it has lasted us this long. Sure, he tried to kill me, and refused to help me in my time of deepest need. And yes I burned down his house, and threatened to kill him, but that is all in a nights work for us. We shrug those things off. Water off of a duck's back. I criticize his writing, his clothes and his emotions, he calls me a vain monster and says I wallow in materialism. It is all tit for tat, isn't it? He says he loves me, I don't respond. He kisses me, I ignore it. It isn't rejection, it is just . . .it's just . . .I mean it's just-
Mojo yawned and stood and stepped off of Lestat's lap. He looked at Lestat expectantly.
"That's the end of rest period, is it?" Lestat stood up. "Lead on, MacDuff." He told Mojo. The dog walked to Basin Street and into St. Louis No.1. Mojo walked an unseen path through the maze of tombs until he stopped at a very old one of whitewashed brick, with a peristyle roof, and a marble slab. Mojo sat and lapped water out of a bowl that had obviously been put there for just this purpose. Just behind the bowl, leaning unseen in the weeds beside the tomb, was a bottle of Abita water. Mojo took it in his teeth and showed it to Lestat. But Lestat was staring at the marble slab.
Jean-Michel de Pointe du Lac
n. 1745 m. 1778
Paul de Pointe du Lac
n. 1776 m. 1791
Notre Fils Le Plus Aime (Our Most Beloved Son)
Bernadette de Pointe du Lac
n. 1750 m. 1792
Louis de Pointe du Lac
1766-1794
He had seen Louis' tomb before, and his had been the only name on it. Had Louis had these names carved above his? When? Why? Perhaps someone else had. But who? Who else would even know these names, these dates? This was Louis' work, certainly. Anyone else would have carved the names and dates in keeping with the one already on the tomb. Only Louis would have made theirs look better than his own. Yet where was his sister? But then she would have been laid in the tomb of her idiot husband's family, wouldn't she.Mojo dropped the water bottle on Lestat's foot. Lestat looked down. "What? Oh." Lestat picked up the bottle, removed the cap and poured it into the bowl. Mojo drank thirstily.
Lestat sensed mortals nearby. Three or four it seemed. Making a drug deal. He could smell the blood in them and it ignited his thirst. "Mojo, stay." Lestat told the dog, who obediently laid down.
Lestat moved into the air, too quickly to be seen. From this vantage point he could locate his prey easily. He dropped down quickly on them and gabbed two by the heads, rendering them unconscious. Then he took the other two in his arms. First he drained the larger one, a drug buyer, as the smaller one the drug seller, struggled and cursed. Then he dropped the larger one and snatched up one of the unconscious henchmen and bit his neck and drained him. The smaller one was, by this time, hysterical. Lestat loved the feel of his desperate fighting , the clawing and the kicking and all of it doing absolutely no good. Then he let the smaller one go as he sucked the second unconscious henchman dry. Lestat let him run through the tombs, almost to the gate, when he swooped down and caught him again, this time drinking his blood, to the very last drop. Then he gathered up the bodies. Of course they had guns. Lestat took the gun with the silencer attached and shot a bullet through his fang marks on each victim, obliterating them.
Shot through the neck, but no blood. Figure that one out, Remy McSwain.
Lestat walked back to Mojo. "Let's go."
Mojo stood happily, his tail wagging and walked out the gates and on to Conti. From there he turned onto Bourbon and followed it as it became Carondelet and then Prytania.
"Good God Mojo, I told him to take you for a walk, he didn't need to survey the entire city."
Mojo ran up Prytania to the Lafayette Cemetery, then turned onto Sixth. Mojo began running again and he took Chestnut down to First. There he jumped the fence of the corner property and met with two dogs, with whom he was obviously well acquainted. Lestat jumped the fence too, and stayed out of sight in some heavy foliage until it seemed that Mojo had finished visiting. From there Mojo ran through the courtyards of the houses along First Street until he came to a dilapidated wreck that was sinking unevenly.
Lestat looked up at it. "Oh, Mojo, this MUST be Louis's place." Mojo went straight up to the back door and scratched and whined piteously. There were no lights on, but if Louis was within twelve miles he would have to hear him. Lestat heard running footsteps on a stairway. Lestat moved quickly back into the shadows, behind a large tree hung all over with Mardi Gras beads.
Louis opened the door. Lestat noticed he had cut his hair very short. He was wearing a dark blue hooded sweatshirt and black jeans with black sneakers. Well, you have been updating your wardrobe, haven't you Louis? Louis looked at Mojo with alarm. "Mojo, qu'est-ce qui se passe?" (Mojo, what is the matter?)
Mojo launched himself at Louis, barking with delight and licking his face. Louis laughed and pushed him down. "Decendais, Mojo. Decendais!" (Down, Mojo. Down!) Mojo got down. Louis sat on his banquette and took the dog's face in his hands, " Ou es Lestat, hmm? Tu l'inquiete! Chien mechant! Tres mechant chien!" (Where is Lestat, hmm? You'll worry him! Bad dog! Very bad dog!) Mojo sat with his tail thumping rhythmically on the boards of the porch, tongue hanging out, big dog smile on his face and looked for all the world exactly like Lestat getting a lecture from Louis.
Louis sat back and sighed an irritated sigh, then he smiled at Mojo and shook his head. Mojo pointed his snout straight up, and Louis scratched his chin. Then Mojo pointed his snout down and leaned toward Louis' face. Louis kissed him between the ears. Then Mojo flopped down on the porch, yawning happily. "Non, non, non." (No, no, no.) Louis shook his head at the dog. "Nous devions trouver a Lestat." (We must find Lestat) Louis stood and tossed his head to the right. "Viens." (Come.) Louis walked down the steps with Mojo following. Lestat stepped quickly in front of Louis, so that Louis collided with him.
"You found me!" Lestat laughed.
Louis stepped back and rubbed his head. "Apparently so." He looked down at Mojo, then back to Lestat. "I seem to have purloined your dog, monsieur."
"I should have known not to trust you." Lestat said, "You have those shifty Creole eyes."
Louis smiled and shook his head. He took another step backwards. He brought his hands up in a gesture that meant, I have nothing to say to that. "Well." Louis folded his arms, tucking his hands beneath his elbows. Lestat thought he looked cold. Louis nodded to him, "Bonsoir." And he turned to go back into his ruined house.
"Louis!" Lestat called. It was out of his mouth before he thought to say it.
Louis turned back to him, a slightly surprised look on his face. "Yes?"
Lestat just stared at him blankly for a moment. " . . . .Did I hurt your head?"
"Non. I am fine." Louis answered him. He waited.
"Oh. Good." Lestat finally answered. There was another pause.
Louis then said, "Thank you for asking, Lestat. Goodnight." He turned again and walked up his steps. Mojo followed him.
"Wait!" Lestat stepped toward the porch. Louis turned again, and saw Mojo.
Louis suppressed a smile and asked Lestat, "Do you mean me or Mojo?"
"You. Both of you." Lestat smiled. He walked to the bottom step. "Come here Louis. Come to me."
Louis walked down the steps.
Part Two
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