. . . .
Now, just like there are rules and codes and languages to hoboing, there are all sorts of things tied up in princessing. Whereas hoboing is a free range sort of life, a princess is tied down to the stretch of land she is princess of. So when thetime rolled around to claim her stomping ground, Rue chose carefully. She declared herself princess of Midcity Park.
Midcity is a tricky place, to be sure. It is not a park as much as it is seven parks, all loosely allied. There is Chowbib Park itself, which sits right in the middle. It is a lovely bit of grass and sunshine, popular with lunchers and picnicers and children after school. There are ponds, and swing sets, and everything that makes a park parklike.
Spinning out from that hub are the six other parks, stretching out at angles like the arms of a star, curling around the buildings of the city. So it goes that many a businessman looks out his window and sees, in the distance, another sky scraper, yes; but in-between, there are trees and swamp and all matter of creatures. It makes things a bit difficult when you are navigating through the city—not all of that forest has been tamed, you know—but the general populous reached the consensus that it was all worth it when you see the sun reflecting off the glass of the bank building peering over the trees. It is something to see, and that is the truth.
Now, it was quite a patch of land to princess, but Rue managed just fine. But to tell the truth, her father never could quite wrench himself to side with her in this hoboing business. He would try and lure her home with talk of chicken pot pies, but she would say, nah, Beenz brand beans in a can suited her just fine. He would try giving her a cosy comforter, all fresh-plucked feathers and satiny fabric, but she would say, nah, the evening edition of the paper kept her just warm enough. Heck, he had even offered her a brand new Stetson—a fur felt Amistad, to be specific, hand-made just for her, with a braid made out of snakeskin and starlight—and while that was mighty tempting, Rue had to say no. She had grown fond of her top hat, complete with a tin foil tiara wrapped all around the sides, and the top punched out for her by Baxter. Now, you might be thinking, who's this Baxter? That may not be a name you are acquainted with, and let me tell you, friend, it is your loss, for he is a might fine fellow, and I will be sure to introduce you to him in due time.
No, her papa was not too keen on Rue's hoboing, but the rest of her family tried to support Rue in her endeavour. Why, her mother even gave her her grandfather's old suspenders from the war, figuring that any suspender that could help your pants stand up against the Hun was more than enough for hoboing. Em, Rue's older sister, sent an honest-to-goodness lumberjacking shirt. But the most appreciated contribution was from Di, Rue's youngest sister, a full two years her junior. Now, that made Di all of six, but she was the most practical six-year-old you ever did meet. As Di understood it, while clothes were fine and good, what a hobo could really use was a regular hot meal, no matter what Rue might say to the contrary. So Di met with her sister every week, right there in Chowbib Park, and bought her a piping hot hot dog from Baxter.
Now we get to Baxter. If you asked him, he would say he was going to school at the city college, and was just moonlighting as a hotdog vendor. But Rue had other ideas. She knew how these things worked: she had read books. You can't have a princess without a hero, which is where things got tricky, as she was pretty sure she was the local hero.
You also had to have a prince, and really, Baxter was the only one who fit the requirements she had heard of, what with his dashingness and bravery. It stood to reason he was the prince of the city in disguise, slumming with his people in the park until just the right time.
But then, you also had to have a wise man or a wizard or a prophet, and that was Baxter too, as he seemed to know everything there was worth knowing in the first place. How can a fella be both these things?
But Rue had thought about it, and she decided they were just blazing trails. She would be the princess and the hero all in one, and Baxter would be the prince and the wise man all in one—and there would be adventures and whatnot that eventually, way down the line, ended in kissing.
Rue was not quite sure how she felt about kissing. She was well aware of the dangers of cooties, and got her shots regularly—but she was pretty certain that if the situation called for smooches, Baxter was the man to go to. She liked his glasses, and the way he talked, and how he gave all the stale bread to the critters of the park.
But really, Rue kept these theories to herself, as it was not the place of a princess to go around revealing the secret identities of princes in disguise.
In the meantime, she had to admit that he served up a mean hot dog, and she never said no when Di showed up every Saturday and offered her one.
It was on such a Saturday that Rue first heard about the Voodoo.
"Voodoo?" she grumbled around a mouthful of food. "What's voodoo?"
Di hunkered down low, and spoke all in whisper. "Hush, Rue, he'll hear you."
"Who?"
"The voodoo witchman! You gotta be careful, or he'll turn you into a critter."
"Oh." Things started to make sense to Rue. "This is magics then." She wrinkled her nose. Rue did not hold much truck with magic; seemed to be a lot of yelling and stomping, which Rue was all for, but not for no apparent purpose. If there was anything Rue could not abide, it was perfectly good yelling and stomping gone to waste.
"I heard," started Di, "that he's a crazy old man holed up in Eastwest Wood. He killed a gypsy's dog, and so the gypsy cursed him so he'll never die, no matter how old he gets! An' so the man learned him some voodoo, to break the gypsy's curse, and to curse the gypsy back double for revengery. See, he's wantin' to make that gypsy never die too, and always agin'—but always agin' as a critter. The witchman is testin' spells on anybody who wanders through his woods!"
"Now Di," said Rue sagely, "that can't be right. Eastwest is part of Midcity, and you gotta be a fool to think you can have any woods that's rightfully th' property of the princess, which is to say, me!"
"He don't care, Rue! He's out there, irregardless, turnin' every folk what wanders through into a critter." Di wiped ketchup off the corner of her mouth. "I know he done it, because my friend Balthazar, he'd met a bear on the edge of the wood on Tuesday, and the bear done tol' Balthazar what I just told you!"
Rue was up-and-down appalled, and had to sit down for a second to catch her wind. "You're tellin' me... that this witchman is settin' up shop in my do-mains, without askin' me for permission? And turnin' my folks into critters, also without my permission?"
"That's what I'm sayin', Rue," said Di. "Just abouts."
"Well!" Rue rolled up her right sleeve. "Well!" Rue rolled up her left sleeve. "Well!" And she set off in a stomp towards Eastwest Woods.
"Hey Rue, you better be careful," called Baxter.
Rue stopped. You had to listen to what your wiseman had to say. "Why? I ain't afraid a bein' no critter."
"I bet you're not," said Baxter. "I bet, even if you were turned into a bear, you'd still be the best damned hobo princess on the planet, and give that guy a good thumpin', to boot."
Rue tugged her hat down, so he could not see her blush. Baxter knew how to talk to a girl.
"But let me tell you, Rue, voodoo isn't something to be mucked around with. That's strong stuff."
"Just what is voodoo, Baxter?" asked Di, eyes wide, as she peered at him over the edge of his hot dog cart.
He folded his arms and leaned over towards her. "The thing about Voodoo, Di, is that it's a monstrous faith."
Di gasped.
"Yes, that's right. What happened was, there was this god up in the heavens, and he was unhappy because nobody worshipped him. And who would? He was a scrawny little guy. But he didn't want to be scrawny any more, no ma'am. Weak as he was, he could do one thing."
"What?" whispered Di.
Baxter leaned down a little lower, and talked so softly that Rue had to listen hard to catch the words. "He could make dolls."
"Dolls," scoffed Rue. She didn't hold much truck in dolls, either.
"Dolls," said Baxter, "the most beautiful dolls you ever did see. Even Rue there," and he tossed his head Rue-ways, "even Rue couldn't say no to one of these dolls. They're just that pretty."
"Dang," whispered Di.
"And so, the scrawny god went about making a bunch of dolls, the most beautiful dolls he'd ever made. A whole bunch of them."
"Dolls," said Rue again, just to emphasis how much she did not hold any truck with them.
"And he goes up to the Devil, and he says, 'Devil, I'll trade you your pitchfork for one of these dolls.' Now, the pitchfork is where the Devil gets all his powers, but these dolls were so downright pretty, The Devil couldn't resist. 'Deal,' said the Devil.
"And the scrawny god went up to Jesus, and says, 'Jesus, I'll trade you your crown of thorns for this here doll.' And Jesus was fond of his crown of thorns, but that doll was so wonderous, he couldn't refuse. 'Deal,' said Jesus.
"And so the scrawny god went, all up and down the halls of heaven. Heck, he even asked the old gods, the dark gods. The gods so old and so dark, they didn't even have a name. Now, time was that the scrawny god was too scared to even think about approachin' those gods, but the scrawny god wasn't so scrawny any more. He had a lot of power now. He didn't even ask the old gods for their powers, he didn't trade for them; he just went right up and took them. That's how strong he is now."
"Wow," whispered Di.
"And you know what?"
Di could barely speak. "What?"
Baxter's spectacles got all fogged from the hot dog steam. "That's the god of Voodoo."
Now, like I said, Di was mighty practical. But she was also mighty worried for her sister. So she burst into tears, and clung to her sister's boots. "Don't go, Rue!" Di just cried and cried. "Don't go get turned into a bear and et by no voodoo god!"
Rue had been known to be swayed by prostratations before, but this was a special occasion, as this witchman was trespassing and mucking about with her loyal subjects. It did not matter what god he had on his side; Rue would thump on them both good.
That is, after all, what princesses do.
So she shook her sister free, tipped her hat to her prince, and stomped off to the thumping.
NEXT:
