I stood in the mirror and poked out my butt. I learned that if I walked with a certain gait and my lower back curled, my plump butt showed plumper in my tragically over-sized habit. Not that a nun should be showing off her body, modesty was our pledge, but when God gives you something wonderful, it would be a sin to hide it. As such, the good lord in all his grand creations gave me a beautiful butt, large and in charge; heaven only knows how I did not fall backwards as I walked. Be it nothing less than a miracle.

Tonight I was having a date with a married man, and I needed to look my best. Goodness. I see how that can be very misinterpreted, a nun on a romantic date to the theater with a married man. Yeah, eat it up, it was all true. Or at least, allow me to live the illusion of naughtiness. There was to be no romantic affair, no thrilling nun on police officer action, just a simple date between friends with suspicion for a murderous time.

"Let me guess," came a harsh voice from my open bedroom door, "it's lipstick next."

I twisted to see Mother Ariel standing cross-armed. Her imposing figure filled the doorframe. A smile formed on my face as I responded.

"Now that you mention it, I think a maroon shade would accentuate the penguin couture we nuns exemplify. Your thoughts?"

Mother Ariel sighed and gripped her forehead.

"Your wittiness and ability to quickly turn a phrase will always be a talent of yours, Mary. Sometimes I doubt my own doubts with you." Mother Ariel looked up. "May I enter?"

I nodded. "Your long nose is already halfway in."

Mother Ariel entered. She cupped her hands and looked about at my simplistic decor. A single crucifix and a picture of Pope John Paul II were the only art decorating my walls. A small skylight window above my bed allowed a single beam of sun to filter into the room.

"I know I can't stop you from living your life and we encourage you to take up a hobby," said Mother Ariel as she stopped by the bed, "but please remember that you represent these nuns and the church. Every word you say, every action you take has an effect on all of us. Tomorrow you meet with the Ursuline nuns about that job. I want you to find some enjoyment in it. And who knows, it might teach you something about yourself you never knew."

"If I knew anymore about myself, I'd be quite annoyed with myself."

"How do you think we all feel," said Mother Ariel. A glint of a smile stretched the side of her lips and up to her glasses. I chuckled.

"I think some of my wittiness is rubbing off on you," I said, fixing my cowl.

"More like your superior sarcasm." Mother Ariel turned away. "I don't agree with you attending this performance, nor do I care to know how you managed tickets for two. Yet, I am relieved Sergeant Leblanc will be there to assure you stay in line."

"He's off duty tonight."

"Regardless, Mary, no front page headlines this time."

"Well, I can't help it if the camera loves me."

"Mary, I'm serious." Mother Ariel ran her hand along my writing desk. "That last mystery might have helped better our living situation here, but the diocese had a lot to say."

"A bunch of old unmarried celibate men making judgments on women, tells a lot about our religious society. If I had been born a man, perhaps this issue could have been rewarded rather than punished."

"I understand your frustrations, but we are women in a male dominated world."

"And Mary Magdalene was a whore and yet Jesus respected her, treated her as an equal. I say those men need a good fuck."

"Sister Mary!" Mother Ariel clutched her chest.

"Don't you worry, Reverend Mother, I'll be sure to behave."

"I guess I will have to accept that, no ifs, ands, or buts."

A car horn honked from outside. We both turned to the window and stretched our necks. A green 1975 Ford Thunderbird parked right outside the gates. The evening sun bent shadows of oak trees over its smooth metal sides as a tiny sparrow landed on the hood ornament.

"At least it's not a cop vehicle this time," said Mother Ariel.

A second horn pierced the air.

"That's my date!" I cried.

"Mary, there is one thing I need to discu–" Before Mother Ariel could say another word, I slid across the wooden floor, stuffed my shoes with my feet, and gallivanted to Sergeant Leblanc. A few of the nuns watched from out their windows as I exited St. Clares Monastery.

Sergeant Leblanc stepped out of the car and opened the passenger side door. He was wearing a pale blue suit and black tie. A police emblem pin decorated the middle of his tie. Even his mustache was curled and combed for the occasion.

"Hurry, Sister Mary, or we will be late," he cried.

"I'm coming," I said, walking around the car. I wiggled my rump into the seat and belted myself tight.

Leblanc returned to the diver's side and started the car. I glanced through the window seeing Mother Ariel standing somberly on the monastery's steps.

As the car pulled into the street and St. Clares grew smaller in the mirror, my heart grew heavier. Perhaps I was too wild and should slow down and start showing more respect to my nunley duties. That thought quickly dissolved as Leblanc reminded me of what was about to happen.

"You didn't tell me the new governor would be at this event."

I wasn't one to pay attention to politics, but from what I gathered the powerhouse democrat, Edwin Edwards, was recently defeated by the first republican to win office in Louisiana since Reconstruction, David Treen. The election was close which left a lot of Louisiana folks divided about growing political and cultural changes.

"I didn't vote for him," I said with a sarcastic smirk.

"That doesn't matter," said Leblanc as he turned the car onto North Rampart Street. "What matters is that we both show our support. Being close to the governor can get you some special perks."

"I do love being special," I chuckled.

A man with few teeth, matted hair, degraded pants, and ribbons of different fabrics covering his wrists and ankles jumped out in front of the car. Leblanc slammed on the brakes. The crazed man waved his arms about as spit shot from his mouth with each profanity. His hands slapped the hood of the car. Anger and madness breathed in his eyes. I could see Leblanc's muscles tensing in his neck. The man's tone changed when he saw me in the passenger seat.

"Sister sister!" he repeated. "Sister sister." He started to swing around a red ribbon and sniff it seductively. "You'll never land one of these bad boys." Leblanc unbuckled himself. I stopped him with my hand on his thigh. This was my moment to roll down the window and say something I should not.

"Kind and gracious, lord of the streets," I paused while taking a deep breath, "fuck off!"

It always surprised people, even by those most derelict of society, that a nun would have such a word in her vocabulary. To my delight the word created such confusion and amusement in the crazed man's face that he took a big step back. It allowed enough time for Leblanc to scoot the car away when the man brought his hands up to laugh. Leblanc didn't even bother to look over at me as I raised the car window.

"Why am I not surprised that worked? I was about to get out and confront him."

"Now you know, violence isn't always the answer."

"You have a special way about you," said Leblanc with a smirk on his face. "A je ne sais quoi."

"You old wanker," I cried, punching him real hard in the arm.

"Damn, Mary!" he winced. "You've been working out?"

I flexed.

"You know, fighting daily the dark behemoth that quells the world in a chaotic oppression from which no man can mortally sever, it makes one's physical strength match one's spiritual strength.

"I couldn't have said it better," said Leblanc. Before we arrived at the theater, a large crowd had previously formed two blocks away causing a small traffic jam. Canal Street was full of men in suits escorting their lovely ladies in evening ball gowns down the sidewalks. The sun began to set behind the buildings, stretching shadows across the pavement and causing street lights to flicker to life. I spied through the window at the glowing vertical sign shouting SAENGER towards the entrance of our destination. I could tell from the outside the character of the building. Its luxurious grandeur reflected that of the late 1920s with hints of Italian baroque.

With the car stopped, Leblanc leaned over to me.

"It's been closed for a few years due to renovation so it's a semi grand reopening celebration I suppose. It's amazing you got tickets for this. I mean look at the people attending."

"Is that Johnny Carson," I said pointing.

"I don't believe it," said Leblanc with a glazed look of amazement. Suddenly an invasive thought crossed his mind causing his face to change. "So wait," he paused. "Remind me again. So someone anonymous gave these to you?" He held up the tickets.

"Yes," I responded.

"And why again?"

"You know that quote from Macbeth with the three witches?" I stretched my neck and curled my fingers to resemble transforming into a witch. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

Leblanc let out a long sigh and leaned back in his seat.

"Another long night you mean."

"No if, ands, or buts."