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+---- Thread: *In the House of LaLaurie (/showthread.php?tid=28128)
*In the House of LaLaurie - Slothman07 - 12-04-2020
Since moving to the Big Easy, I’ve been trying out new hobbies, including but not limited to ghost hunting. New Orleans is rife with ghost stories and hipsters who look like vampires, so what better place to get spooked? I thought I’d start my explorations with the LaLaurie Mansion in the French Quarter.
I won’t bore you with the history, because I fell asleep four times during the tour guide’s speech and I barely remember any of it, but basically Delphine LaLaurie was this massive douchenozzle who lived way back in the day and now her giant mansion is super haunted. It is so haunted, in fact, that Nicholas Cage bought it back in 2007 thinking it would be a neat place to get stoned with his cat. It was a little too spooky and harshed their chill vibes though, so nine years later he sold it to a mysterious oil tycoon who won’t step foot inside, but makes mad bank off tourists and incredible football players who want something fun and scary to do on the weekend.
Anyway, there we were, crammed into the second floor bathroom trying to catch a glimpse of Reginald the drainpipe poltergeist, when there was this high-pitched shriek from down the hall. As the natural alpha of pretty much every situation, everyone hid behind me for safety. I lumbered down the dark, oak hallways to the kitchen, where I saw my very first full-body apparition, and you’ll never guess who it was. OK I’ll tell you: Truman Capote. For reals. His squat, frumpy, whispy little ectoplasm body was digging around in the refrigerator for sandwich-making material. We stared at each other for what seemed like five seconds before I asked him if they had salami. Ten minutes later we’re cracking up talking about what a pretentious snob Daniel Day Lewis is and guzzling down PB&J’s.
Long story short, I bought the LaLaurie place, Truman and I are roommates, and Thursday night is Bulgogi and Mandalorian night.