26

8 -- Gumbo Ya-Ya
A bevy of short-skirted black girls invited him down just then, but no dice. 'Ain't no funny crap today. Remember last year?' Last year King Zulu left his float to follow a woman and held up the parade for two hours. So these girls, whom the boys call the 'zig-a-boos,' disappointedly went their way.
Strange things happen even to a king. It suddenly went down the line, 'The King had done wet himself.' Didn't make much difference, though. He had spilled so much whiskey on his costume, nobody could tell what was what.
Everybody was a little drunk now. The grass hula skirts all Zulus wear over long white drawers swished faster and faster as the maskers on the floats 'put it on,' and the nappy black skull caps adorning their heads were set at dashing angles. The parade moved swifter now toward the Geddes and Moss Undertaking Parlors, where the Queen and her court awaited them on a balcony over the street.
A thunderous ovation greeted King Zulu at South Rampart and Erato Streets. A high yellow gall fanned her hips by him and he temporarily deserted his float. 'Mayor' Fisher hauled him back to the dignity and comparative safety of his high perch atop the float. 'I never thought this could happen to a king.' His Majesty sighed. Pretty girls like that wouldn't want the King when he was 'jest a man.'
'It's damn funny,
Fisher sniffed, 'how womens is. Now that woman knows the King is busy, still she wants him. Every time I think how much trouble Zulus give me I get mad.'
All over South Rampart Street women were jumping up and down and feeling hot for the King. The musicians