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Have you ever woken up with a headache that you couldn't shake? No matter how many pills you take, how much water you drink, or deep breathes you take?The kind where the pounding just won't cease? I have one of those horrible things.

It feels as though I have some little creature pounding away on my brain as though it were a second-line bass drummer, marching down the French Quarter during Mardi Gras. Just... bang, bang, banging away in a steady cadence. It makes it impossible to think about anything else but making it stop.

I walk to the bathroom, grabbing a cup from the small kitchenette of my hotel room along the way. I fill it with water from the tap and throw it back like cheap whiskey. I take three long breaths with my eyes closed and repeat. After three or four attempts at this normal headache murder, there was still no shaking the pain.

I dug in my bag to find the emergency sandwich bag of various kinds of medicine I normally take with me on my trips down here. Here being Louisiana. New Orleans to be exact. My old home town, and the one place I actually traveled to outside of my busy apartment in southern California. To be honest I always loved coming here. I loved getting out of Los Angeles. The city was always moving, always going at exponential rates except for traffic of course. That hardly moved at all. But I digress...

Anyways, I had plans to poke around the French Quarter for a night before I traveled north a bit to my folks' home on New Orleans avenue. The plan was to have some fun before heading home and having two explain why I wasn't married, and why I wasn't president of my firm yet. You know the questions parents always incessantly prod their children with. It's as though they always have expectations that are higher than you could reach. No matter how far you climb in life, they will always be at least a notch farther than your current state of existence. I know its probably just a form of pushing their children to be better people, or maybe their love has clouded the reality of their children, but its still painful to see that tinge of disappointment in their eyes.

The last couple times I came home to visit, they tried to set me up with the daughter of some friend of my moms, while simultaneously recruited to work for my fathers company in the process.

"You'll love her! She can cook a mean jambalaya! She's beautiful, has a really sweet smile, and best of all she's single!" mom gushed, holding her excitement in her hands as they clapped together.

"Come now son, you've been working at that firm for what, three years? With no promotion! That jobs dead to you. Besides, desk work ain't no place for a Beau. You need yer self a real job. You need to work with yer hands so ya can understand what it means to come home after a hard days work! Ya need ta be a man son!" Petitioned my father.

My father dropped out of high school his sophomore year to support his newly formed family he made when mom had my older sister. She was five years my senior. He worked construction, and when Katrina broke the Levees, his company went under just like most of the city itself. He lost his job, but when the funds came in the form of 'Federal Aide' he snatched all he could, and started a construction company all on his own. Supposedly business has been good ever since, considering all the devastation that occurred from that Hurricane.

With the success of his business, he and mom were able to move out of their shitty apartment to the house on New Orleans Avenue. Its a beautiful house that's just big enough for two fifty somethings and moms collection of ceramic roosters. I don't like it though. In fact the house creeps me out, to be honest. No, Not because of the roosters, although they are creepy in the volume that mom has. No, its because the house stands facing Saint Louis Cemetery. Which, believe it or not, isn't all that uncommon in this part of the country. It hardly effects the home's value anyways. Nothing like coming home to catch up with the folks and to stare at an old as dirt cemetery. What makes things worse, is that their guest bedroom faces the damn thing. You can actually lay in the bed, and see the tops of the mausoleums from out the window. Safe to say, I like to come here for a night first to sort of 'fill myself up with life' before falling asleep to death.

I popped the Tylenol in my mouth and squinted to find the faucet through the foggy pain. I refilled my cup and downed it, along with the pill, leaning my head back as I did so. I always hated swallowing pills... I would be the best 'chewable' customer if all pills came in chewable form.

I leaned down towards the still running faucet, splashing water on my face. I reached for the towel and felt something particularly fuzzy. I grabbed it and it let out a growl causing me to jump.

I stepped back, tripping on the edge of the bath tub and gripping the smooth walls to try and prevent a catastrophic injury. I managed to land partially on a small ledge behind the tub, probably used for various toiletries.

Once the adrenalin died down, I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. I wiped the remaining water droplets from my brow and peered through the now screaming pain in my forehead.

There, standing in front of me was a large black panther. Its eyes stared at me with a sea-foam green glow. It almost looked welcoming, if it hadn't been for the feline slits that acted as pupils.

"Well, well, that could have ended rather gruesomely. You should be more careful, Mr. Beau." He said, leaning forward, inspecting me.

His head was freaking huge! His black fur seemed like gentle waves of a lake at midnight, as muscles rippled underneath the surface. As he spoke, eloquent as his voice sounded, I struggled to focus on anything other than his painfully sharp teeth that filled his muscular jaw. I didn't even care that he could talk, nor did I care that he was wearing people clothes. A large purple peacoat to be exact. Underneath was a black vest, and a white shirt with a purple tie. To be honest, I think the clothes made him seem a bit less scary.

He leaned back and his ears swiveled to the front door.

"Ah! I had almost forgotten. Perhaps we should retire to a more private locale." He said frowning.

I didn't even know cats could frown.

"W-What the-"

"Now now, Mr. Beau, all in good time. For now, hold your questions and get straitened up. I know a place where... we can commiserate without having to hear those dreadful neighbor of yours do what could no doubt be the hideously grotesque display of drunken romance that they are both planning." He said.

His frown turned more to disgust than anything. But what struck me as odd was how he seemed to be peering through the walls. It was as though he could actually see what was, or rather what would, be transpiring. I had no doubt that he wasnt wrong however. Plane tickets are expensive and the only way I could afford to stay in the french quarter was to find the cheapest motel in the area. Cheap hotels equal quick places to duck and... well you can guess the rest.

I could hear the loud opening and slamming of the door in the room next door thanks to my extremely sensitive hearing. Thank you headache.

I didn't have the brain power to fight this level of insanity, so I decided I would just follow the panther and see how this psycho dream played out. I mean, whats the worst that could happen in a dream right?

I left for the airpot right after work, so I still had on my work clothes. I combed my hair, and tucked in my shirt. I straightened my tie, and even sprayed a little extra cologne on. If I was going to play along with this delusional and rather coherent dream, then I was going to do it in style.

I left the bathroom just as the Tylenol began to kick in, leaving a slight tingle of euphoria in my stomach that slowly made its way to my head.

"Alas! He is ready!" said the panther as i exited the bathroom.

He rose, twirling a large and slightly ridiculous top hat in his fingers. With a swift and smooth motion, he placed it still twirling on his head, folding his ears back as he did so.

"So where are we going then, Panther dude?"

He paused as he walked past me, placing a hand- or... paw on his chest.

"Please call me Baron. Dude is such a filthy word." He said, rising his snout to the air.

"Alright Baron, Where are we going then?"

"I know a place. Come." He said, opening the front door and motioning me to exit.

I grabbed my card key and headed outside. The small concrete parking lot was cracked and full of various cement stains. The panther-man walked out over the concrete swiftly, almost gliding the whole way. I couldn't help but stare as he glided out into the world. It somehow made me question whether this was a dream or rather... was I losing my mind?

"Mr. Beau!" Called the panther.

I snapped back. It dawned on me that this may be the beginning of the end of my normal life. After this, I might be institutionalizing my self...

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming."

I stepped over the stained and cracked concrete, through the parking lot, to the crossing lane. The Panther man hit the crossing button.

"Safety first Mr. Beau." He said, winking his slitted eye and tilting his massive top hat.

A bus passed by us, leaving a trail of warm and suffocating exhaust to be blown into our faces. I thought about jumping in front of it. Therefore ending my horrible future of insanity that no doubt awaited me. But one thing horror movies, and angsty teenagers don't think of is that busses don't move nearly fast enough to make a pleasant end. No, I would probably just end up maimed in some form of hospital just as old and decrepit as the sex motel that sat behind us. I would rather end up crazy than crazy AND crippled.

The crossing light lit up, turning the perpendicular lanes red. We crossed to the old french quarter.

I loved these old buildings. If I found myself in different circumstances, I would be gawking at the aged and warn storefronts of the many bars and novelty shops that sat before me.

"No getting sidetracked Mr. Beau. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can get on with our business and the sooner this can all be over." Said the panther, side-glacing back at me.

"What exactly is our business? I don't recall any of my clients being panthers, nor do I recall them being talking panthers."

"Is that what I am?" He said, looking over his right paw-hand. "I had never been in this form before, and I was curious about how it may come across to the clients."

"Clients?"

"Yes Mr. Beau. Now, in you go." He said, opening a door to his right and gesturing my enter. I looked for a moniker but had found that the door he opened didn't belong to a storefront. Rather, it was in between two different storefronts. The door itself had even looked out of place.

It was just a series of rotting and sloppily placed planks that seemed to be barely clinging to the rusted iron nails fastened onto them. Most of the french quarter had brand new doors and windows, because of the damage. This door... This door didn't belong.

I leaned forward to look down the entry. It was a long dark staircase that seemed to travel farther than the light of the muggy day outside. The air also felt... cold, and... stale. This was rare in the southern swampy humidity around Louisiana. The air here was like a staircase to a crypt.

"I don't want to go down there..."

"Oh but you must Mr. Beau."

"Must I?"

"Well..." began the panther. He fished clumsily into his right jacket pocket and retrieved a small black notebook. He lifted the black elastic band, clasping the cover closed, and lifted the thin grey ribbon marking the current page. "You are Robert 'Bobby' Beau correct?"

"Depends whose asking." I said frowning.

The panther's demeanor changed. His lips sunk down, his smile flipped, and his eyes stared at me intensely. When he next spoke, his voice was quiet and crystal clear.

"Now I know dear Margaret taught you better than to play games with me Mr. Beau. It would be wise if you do as your told."

I wanted to flee. The outside air became still. Their wasn't a single breeze to alleviate intense anxiety I felt. The euphoric feeling in my stomach was changed to churning and nausea. The headache had left its remittance and began to creep back up my neck, strangling the blood flow to my brain.

I wanted to be anywhere other than standing in front of this long staircase, and this... this... thing.

But I couldn't.

"H-how did... How d-did you know? H-h-how did-"

"I know everyone, Mr. Beau. I know your mother Margaret. I know Your Father Alexander. I know your cousins, your neighbors, your... lovers. I rather liked that recent one you had, what was his name again? Jake? The one with the short blonde hair. He really loved you. You two had something special together. But what did you do Mr. Beau? Why, what you always do when blessings rain down on you. You run. Run to your parents house. Run to the very people you run away from. The very people who have made you what you are. A child so fearful of struggle, so fearful of the unknown, that you don't even try. You haven't taken a chance once in your life Mr. Beau. Not in finance, not in education, and not in love, not in... acceptance. You are a shell of a man, so wrapped up in fear and routine, that your current fear of survival should be the last thing on your mind when you don't have a life to return to. Now, Mr. Beau..." He motioned inward to the door, teeth bared just like the panther he appeared to be. "In. You. Go."

My body turned, autonomously. I walked to the threshold, and stood before the long staircase that seemed to never end. All those things... All those horrible things Baron said... Were... True. I am afraid. I... I am... Afraid.

I lifted my foot over the first step. As my foot sunk into the depths, I thought about today. I remember... I remember buying the plane ticket last week. Me and... I-I was going to take Jake to meet my parents. He was so excited. I was excited too. Even as I hit 'confirm' on the order, I actually felt good. I felt... happy. We were going to arrive a day early, a-and spend the day in the French Quarter. He had never been to Louisiana before. He had never even been out of California.

My foot hit the first step, and a shock went up my spine. Pain like no other ran up my foot, to my knee, up my thigh, up my spine until it reach my mind.

I could... Remember. I could remember that night. I... had a dream about my parents. They were yelling at me. They were... cursing at Jake. Telling him horrible things about how he had... ruined me. Turned me into a demon. I wanted to tell Jake about my dream, but... he was fast asleep beside me. I didn't want to wake him...

I took another step. The pain increased with every movement, but I couldn't stop. It was as though I was in a free fall, and was merely falling in a walking motion down the steps.

As my foot landed on the next step I remembered... I remembered getting off work and... And driving straight to the airport. That night... The night I had that dream I... I packed my bag. I put it in my trunk, and... And after work I ran. Just like I always do. Just like Baron said. Im a shell of a man. I got on that plane, and I drank, and drank. I don't even remember arriving. I don't even know how I ended up in that motel. But I did. I woke up with a splitting headache and I had no memory of anything... until now.

I deserve this pain. I deserve so much more, this pain was nothing in comparison to the pain I have caused others... all those broken hearts... I... I am sorry Jake... I never wanted to hurt you. I am just not... I am just not good enough for you. You deserve better...

I lifted my foot up from the first step and fluidly began to take another, but a soft hand grabbed my shoulder.

"Thats enough Mr. Beau." Came that familiar voice.

"Let me go." I said, turning my head to see the black panther holding me back. His silhouette reminded me of something...

"Are you sure this is what you want? Once you take the next step, theres no going back."

W-what did he remind me of?

"Let. Me. Go." I said through gritted teeth. "I deserve this."

The silhouette shifted.

"Very well..." He said. His paw-hand released me and I turned back to step once more.

As my foot fell again towards the next shooting pain, and the next memory. However this time I couldn't get his silhouette out of my thoughts. something about it bugged me. It looked... Like... No it couldn't be.

My foot hit the step and the pain once again reverberated up my body from the impact. The memory of this morning flew back to me. But this one... was different. This time I was watching myself. There in front of me, was... me. My thick curly hair a mess, sweat stains on my white shirt told me that I hadn't showered. I was swallowing the pill and there... in the corner of the bathroom was... Baron. He was watching me the whole time.

The other me reached out for the towel to dry my face and Baron reached his arm out just in time for me to grab it. He growled and I jumped back, tripping on the bath tub, slamming my head with a loud bang! I slunk into the tub and laid still in an un-natural pose. Baron walked to the edge of the tub, and leaned over me with a sinister grin, which he then turned to face the real me.

"I told you to be careful didn't I?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but was immediately ripped back to the long dark staircase. My foot moved on its own to take another step. I tried to stop it, but couldn't. I was no longer in control.

As my foot fell to take another step, I turned my head to see the panther. To try to make it stop but he just stared back at me with those glowing eyes and a... horrible smile...

His silhouette looked more sinister, more menacing that it had only moments before. The fear coursed through my body, only amplified as my foot sank past where the next step should have been. As I began to fall into the darkness, I managed to twist my body to face the Baron. The light began to dim as I fell deeper, and deeper and... deeper. Why was he so familiar, why was- It hit me. The panther standing now distantly over me was...

"Goodbye, Mr. Saturday, and thank you." I whispered as I fell.