Yes, Clotille, there is a Loup-Garou

Tuesday, 5 February 2008, was Mardi Gras.
You know, the holiday where a million tourists descend upon New Orleans to drink themselves into oblivion and commit random acts of nudity for the price of crappy plastic necklaces? It’s all about decadence and exposure and making a fool out of yourself before the church-imposed wasteland of Lent, right?

Well, kind of. Not really.
(Keep reading…)