I didn’t want to go down this path. I wanted to keep looking for spirits within my ancestry. I claim no initiation. I do not practice Vodoun. But he spoke to me, he really did. 

Yesterday I earned some serious weird motherfucker points. The Baron spoke to me on Christmas day through a statue that a friend had given me. I knew I had to do this right. I knew I had to call on Papa Legba first to open the gate. For this I needed candles but using my credit card at the small, local Mexican grocery seemed wrong. But the next day I put on a coat I hadn’t worn in a long time and found four dollars in the pocket, so I took it as a sign. At the store, the nice young lady saw me staring at the candles. I asked if they had Saint Peter. They did not. But Saint Lazarus would do. They did not have Saint Expedite. But strangely they had a black and a purple candle sitting side by side. Three candles would be five dollars. But the voice came again. “I think you can give up that lucky two-dollar bill you’ve been carrying around.” So I did. The cashier gave me a sideways glance as I checked out with just the three candles. He knew what was up.

Later, I took the change and a fifty cent piece I had been saving and drove past my local graveyard. A place I have been haunting lately, leaving offerings at the older graves. It sits at a crossroads. I think the guy behind me was quite perplexed as I chucked the change out my car window in the middle of a snow storm as I passed through the intersection.

I lit my candles. Offered rum to Papa Legba and a pipe loaded with tobacco. For the Baron, more rum and a cigar.

I get the feeling he is now contemplating what to do with my white ass, and how much more he can get from me. Which is a lot, if he keeps talking.